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Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

“Greenblood!"

Caught off guard, her heart seizes for a moment and then quickens. That voice, which is impossibly gruff and tender at the same time, breaks her down and builds her back up again. That voice floods her head and warms her heart. A welcome sensation against the bitter cold reality of what she must do.

She feels a slight tremor at her waist as her weapon is adroitly plucked from its sheath with the softest metallic clink. Now unarmed, Elizabeth whirls to face her loyal guard in the middle of the cobblestone courtyard, her feet kicking up dust and scattering tiny pebbles, playfully feigning exasperation. Immediately upon their eyes locking, he has tossed the blade in her direction, and she deftly manages to catch the rapier hurled at her, flourishing the steel in a twisting figure of agility and control.

“Kurt...”

They have known each other for a very long time but she still knows so little about him outside of what she has discerned from his always being near. She knows the sound of his boots pacing on the stone floor outside her room. The sound of his steps trailing close behind her down the halls. His scent, metallic, earthy and undeniably alluring. Kurt is an always present figure, a shadow lurking in a corner, prepared to lay down his life for her. For gold? For something more? What else would he do for her?

She contemplates his face, as she so often does. One scar a prominent arc across the bridge of his nose, another splits his right eyebrow into two separate halves. His face is a map of scars that tell a story she wants to know. Needs to know. As if knowing this will bring her closer to knowing him. But he offers nothing, and she refuses to ask and so Kurt remains a mystery to her. A mystery she yearns to solve. One she may solve in time if only he will let her in, trust her as she trusts him.

Elizabeth feels his walls go up when she tries to talk to him, cutting himself off from any familiarity between them. It cuts like a knife, sharp and deep. Her walls, built around that pain, hide her thoughts, keeping her own feelings locked down like a vault. What would he do if he knew? Would he pursue her? Or would he laugh and tell her she is still just a child?

True, she was just a child when they met. She had quickly become enamored of her trainer and guard, following him around, watching his every move. Writing his name over and over while listening to her teachers instead of taking notes. Imagining a future and a life with him. One he obviously had not imagined with her for he quickly put her in her place with his hard and cold lessons.

She tries to pierce his cool and collected exterior, to get under his skin and feel him out. His signature rough felt hat worn, as always, low over his face, he cocks his head at her in his way, an expression that is unmistakable. Elizabeth knows all too well where this will lead, and she is grateful for the diversion.

Moving in sync through the courtyard, part of a small open wing of the palace that leads to the city outside, they revolve around one another, their bodies like magnets pulling and repelling in equal measure. One always hyperaware of the proximity of the other.

As they circle, the sounds of the banners, deep blue with metallic gold coins, draped over the palace walls snap in the breeze. Susurrations of whispers envelop them as they weave their familiar dance through the open space. Elizabeth looks all around trying to imprint the place in her mind.

This courtyard is one of her favorite places to find a cool corner to read and keep her own company, nestled safely and quietly within the confines of her own home, which she shares with her mother. The subjects who pass through defer to her but otherwise take little notice of her presence, as she is as much a fixture as the cobblestone floor or the carved railings that surround it. But not today. Today, they are all abuzz with the news of her impending departure.

“And so, the day has finally come! My royal fledglings are leaving the nest,” he sighs, gesturing with his sword.

Her eyes narrow at this most unpleasant epithet, having always hated when he called them fledglings. She feels enough like a bird in a gilded cage without Kurt reminding her. She must punish him for such an affront.

She raises her chin proudly and assumes her noble voice, high and ringing with authority and haughtiness. “Accompanied by their most loyal and tenacious Master of Arms.”

“As loyal as your gold...” Kurt retorts, leaning in and gesturing with his blade.

Softening, her voice dripping with honey, she says, “Enough with the cold mercenary act. I know you like us.” Catching a glimpse of a regiment nearby standing at attention while their lieutenant takes orders from some noble, her eyes dart back to his and she presses, “Still hiding your men in the unsuspecting shadows of the greats of this world, I see...”

Tilting his head, Kurt lowers his eyes. “Hey, our blades are the only thing keeping you dainties alive.” he taunts back.

Gesturing again with the rapier to show how far she has come in her training, she bristles. “Kurt, I am not in need of your protection. I am no longer a child, you know?”

Raising his brows, a small grin turns up the corners of his mouth. “Is that so? Well, let's see!” Lifting his claymore and gesturing with it in her direction, Kurt cheers, “Fight with honor!!”

Elizabeth begins to move in a wide circle, her feet whispering across the stone, putting some distance between them. Kurt lunges toward her, swinging his claymore in a large, but slow arc. She takes several quick steps back making him work for it. Then, twisting in a circle and coming around quickly on his other side, the point of her rapier makes contact with his shoulder guard. The look of surprise on his face is priceless, but she refuses to get cocky or let him see how pleased she is with herself.

Never being one to take it easy on her just because she is of the feminine persuasion, he turns in her direction and swings at her again. As his blade swings near her, she rolls backwards and away in a move that he did not expect, the proper legate rolling around in the dust. He raises his brows and takes a wary step back, holding back as if trying to read her. Raising her brow in reply, she gives nothing, the mask like a cloak that conceals her from him.

Kurt’s weakness in the fight is her strength. Speed and agility are on her side and they both know it. Sidestepping, she dodges his blows one after the other. He may be stronger, but she can wear him down if she plays it smart. And, today, his attacks seem unusually unfocused and all over. As he begins to slow, she responds with a flurry of quick attacks, making contact high inside and knocking him off balance as he attempts to dodge.

When he catches and uprights himself, he yields and admits, “You defend yourself well, Greenblood. One might think you had a proper Master of Arms.”

Basking in the rare compliment, she warmly replies, “The best,” positioning the tip of her blade in the opening of the sheath before plunging it in, the metal whining as it slides in, and resting her hand on the fluted pommel.

Kurt snorts at her, “You already training for your new post of Legate? Don't tire yourself. Flattery will get you nowhere...” his deeply scarred brow raised over his steel blue eyes, which have a sudden hardness to them.

Is he…angry?

Constantin nearly always has Kurt irritated or angry about something, but her… he so rarely gets angry with her she hardly knows how to react. Elizabeth opens her mouth to speak, confused at his irritation but thinks better of it just now. Always in a cage and always locked away.

Kurt watches her, seeming to be waiting for her to speak until she closes her mouth and says nothing. A heavy silence fills the space between them, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, but lingering somewhere between. They have shared many moments of silence between them, but never one that felt charged like an electric current spiking through her, threatening to overpower her senses. She tastes the metal of his blade and feels the movement of his body, hears her heart beating rapidly in her ears. She wonders for a moment if he feels it too. Then the moment passes and Elizabeth sighs wistfully, willing it to return.

Kurt clears his throat softly and continues, “But, you have remembered your basics. Your performance just got you out of a final lesson...unless you want to go through the paces again?” He leans in her direction with his sword resting heavily against his chest, its weight pressing the quilted cloth of his uniform into the natural curve of his shoulder.

Her eyes follow his arm down to the bend in his elbow and back up to his hand on the hilt of the sword, admiring his musculature under the fabric of his doublet. When he clears his throat again, she looks down for a moment to hide the blush in her cheeks. “No, thanks all the same,” she says ruefully. “I have quite a few tasks to check off my list before we depart.”

When she looks back up, he sheaths his sword over his back and stands with his fists on his hips. “And here you are, already assuming your political functions. And in a hurry. Always too busy…”

Was that a hint of disappointment?

Kurt pretends to be stoic, and it is a good front that fools most, but she knows better. More walls to keep everyone out and at a safe distance. Of all the guards in the palace, he is the hardest to get close to and the only one she wants to know. And Elizabeth adores him in these moments where he is hard like tempered steel on the outside but soft and malleable on the inside.

In both, an effort to put off the first task on her list and to keep Kurt engaged she hastily asks, “Are your bags packed for the great departure?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, a sheepish smile spreads across his face and his cheeks redden slightly. “Yes, you know I get by with very little.”

She thinks back to the many times he has watched her across a ballroom, dancing with Constantin, dining on a feast, dressed in finery. Or in the common areas of the palace, meals delivered on silver platters, personal tutors and private lessons, personal tailors. All the things she has so often taken for granted. What must he think of her? Shame blooms on her face like a burning flower.

“You are not angry that I am coming with you, I hope?”

“On the contrary,” she stammers, suddenly realizing he has mistaken the rising color in her cheeks for anger. In truth, she is both relieved and pleased that he is escorting them to the island. As painful as leaving her mother will be, that thought sending a fresh round of ache through her core, it is comforting to know that Kurt will be with them all the way. She longs to tell him this and yet she is afraid to reveal her thoughts. “I am thrilled that both you and Sir de Courcillon are joining our party.”

“And there I was thinking I would die of boredom on the trip...” he says, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Her brow rises and her face shifts into a look of incredulousness. “How could you possibly be bored with Constantin around?” He can be tiresome, she knows, but he does keep things interesting.

“Where is our future Governor hiding?”

“I have no idea...” she answers, shaking her head. “He had plans to celebrate his departure last night, and no one has seen him since. You know Constantin.” Elizabeth has been trying not to think of the task she was set on but it is ever present in her thoughts. “I should have gone with him, but my heart was not in the mood for celebration. The thought of bidding my mother farewell...”

In a rare moment of comfort, Kurt consoles her, “It is never easy to say goodbye, but you should be going to see her now. She must be waiting for you...I will meet you in front of the palace. Then we can go and find Constantin together.”

She nods and sighs heavily, the pain is like a knife thrust into her heart, but she is resigned to what must be done, “Very well. I will meet you as soon as I have said my goodbyes.”

~Kurt~

Kurt watches Elizabeth pensively, his head cocked to one side, as she exits the courtyard brushing the dust from her waistcoat, pleased to have caught her off guard, but painfully aware that this may have been his last chance before the ship sets sail. He could have played for more time, tried to keep her in the moment, but prolonging her pain for his benefit, he could never be so selfish. After she disappears down a dark corridor, he turns and somberly climbs the steps to the outer pavilion of the courtyard, passing through the gate and out of the palace for the last time.

A short walk down a dark hall leads him away from the palace. Stepping out on the terrace high above the city, he walks to the railing, leaning in on his forearms, and looks down at the gritty streets below. Elizabeth has been given a rare opportunity to get out of this forsaken city, and he is fortunate to be traveling with her, but his duty is like a stone tied to his ankle before being thrown overboard to sink to the depths below.

Turning, he leans back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest he tilts his head back just enough that he can see the sky overhead, and lets out a deep sigh. Had Elizabeth felt what he felt? What even was that? Bringing his hands up, he rubs at his face, his fingers running over deep scars. The evidence that remains of his training as a young kid, a reminder of what he refuses to be. He turns back to the sea, cradling his head in his hands with his elbows resting against the rail.

At the least, their little display has reassured him that she can handle herself. Both with a sword and with her wits. Pride swells in his chest, having witnessed her grow from an awkward greenhorn who could barely wield a sword properly to an avid fighter, with an incredible level of agility and speed. He enjoys few things more than watching her brandishing her steel skillfully, artfully. She hardly even needs a guard at this point, but he has a responsibility not only to train her, but also to keep her safe.

Had a responsibility to train her, he reminds himself morosely. Now he is feeling useless, like an adornment or a fixture. As long as she needed him, he could pretend she also wanted him around. Once he walked out of the palace gate that was all over. Now he is nothing more than a bodyguard, under her command. Under her thumb. Nothing to keep him here and nothing to look forward to.

Kurt has spent most of his time either guarding or training Elizabeth and Constantin for several years now and that left little time to spend with his comrades. He feels like he is on the outside looking in both in the Guard and in the palace. The two cousins come from nobility and wealth and walk in very different circles from his own. He is too aware of his place.

He is only a lowly guard, even his station in the palace is insignificant. No, he has no business thinking about her. The way her eyes seem to reflect the sky on a clear day. The way her figure moves lithely through his steps, dancing around him. Or the birthmark that graces her cheek, a delicately thin whisper of mossy green vine that starts on her neck and blossoms on the lower left side of her face. The slightest hint of a texture he longs to feel. How she sometimes seems to let down her mask and smile only for him. Surely that must be his imagination. Wishful thinking.

Still, he is willing to oblige her even if his pride is wounded a little after she managed to unbalance him in the fight, despite the fact that is exactly what he has been training her for. And he still feels the sting of her position flaunted in his face. A diplomat she may be, but he is loath to be treated like one of her subjects or the dignitaries who expect her to peacock before them.

He softens, admitting to himself that she has grown into a fine young lady, far more mature and reserved than her cousin, Constantin, who Kurt bitterly concludes, apparently still spends too much of his time getting into trouble and waiting for her to come to his rescue. And right now, she is the one who could desperately use rescuing. He sees in her eyes and hears in her voice that she is in deep pain though he is helpless to do anything to relieve it.

Standing at attention, he lifts his hat with his off hand, running his fingers through his hair, letting the breeze cool him off before he sets the hat back in place, cocked just a little to the side. These thoughts will get him nowhere, best to just push them aside now and forget about her. Do his job with honor, get paid and live as well as he can.

~Elizabeth~

Thumb on the latch, she hears her mother's weakened voice emanate from the room before she has even opened the door. Pressing her forehead to the cool wood surface, she has to steel herself for a moment, unwilling to enter with anything less than perfect love in her heart.

Her mother, Princess Olivia de Sardet, left nearly blind from the Malichor infection, pleads from the other side of the door, “What is this? Have you not been taught to knock?! I have asked a thousand times!”

Elizabeth can no longer stand the sound of her mother’s pleading, finding her resolve to bear whatever she must to be strong and brave, she enters and takes her mother’s hand gently in her own.

“Oh, it's you, my dear child,” relief and joy replacing the fear and confusion in her voice.

Elizabeth, who can barely endure the sight of her mother in this state, kneels at her side. “Mother, I am sorry. I am having trouble getting used to your condition.”

There has been no time to come to terms with it. The Malichor progresses so quickly, and nothing seems to slow or ease it. A diagnosis is a death sentence, and that of a quick and painful one. It is something she declines to think on but the sight of her mother's face, scarred by the vein like rash, keeps it in the back of her mind all the time.

Her mother was always the most beautiful woman she had ever known. Signature blue eyes and pale face ringed by a wreath of wavy yellow hair, typical of the d’Orsay line. Elizabeth’s father, Sir Marc de Sardet is said to have fallen for her the moment he laid eyes on her. But the Malichor has stolen her sight and her beauty. And now it is taking away her daughter who is desperate to find a cure.

Princess de Sardet leans toward her daughter and blindly reaches up for her face, her hand searching for her cheek, fingers caressing the birthmark that graces her skin. “Come now, let's speak of more pleasant things...I am so very happy to hear your voice, Liza.” Elizabeth gently squeezes her hand in response. “You remind me so much of your father...” she sighs, “I do miss him so...”

These words only remind her that she will be leaving her mother completely alone. Releasing her mother's hand, she stands and crosses to the window that looks out to the sea, the sea that will be stealing her away in only a few hours. These views her mother will never again take any joy in leave her wishing for more time. It has been difficult not to think about how much she will miss her after she departs Serene, and she wishes she could put it off even for just a day.

She had so many things she wanted to say before she walked through the door but now all that is forgotten. How can she say something as meaningless as I love you when she is about to walk out of this room forever? It feels cheap and worthless in this darkened chamber, looking upon the ghost of her mother. They both know how much love they share, and it would be a waste of precious time to say it now.

“Today is the big day, is it not?” Her mother, quickly sounding fatigued from exertion, now pauses after just a few words to catch her breath, “Ready to set sail...for a new world...?”

Every word reminds Elizabeth of how much she is leaving behind and how quickly time is running out. How a ship is so close to whisking her away forever. “Yes, mother, but the idea of leaving you behind, alone and ill and...” she hesitates and stops altogether, she may never leave if she has to finish that thought.

“Dying, my child."

Elizabeth shrinks back, pained by these words.

"Alas, there is nothing...you can do for me...by staying,” her mother continues in broken phrases, struggling to catch her breath between. “Yet, one thing...brings me cheer. They say...the island is full of miracles...and we might find a cure.” Her pride is evident, but it brings her daughter no cheer.

Elizabeth turns from the window incredulously. “Even if I were to find it, I would never be able to return in time,” It is her greatest wish that she had time to save her mother, but she knows she will not last long enough to arrive on the island. Forget finding a cure and returning heroically to rescue her from pain and death.

“I know.” Princess de Sardet softly replies. “But it brings me comfort...to know my daughter...has left on a mission...to heal her people.”

Her mother’s calm acceptance does nothing to blur the pain that carves out a hole in her chest.

“Come now, Liza. It is time for you...to take your leave...”

Elizabeth reluctantly returns to her mother’s side watching as she scrabbles about her skirts until her hand lands on some kind of pendant. Reaching out she presses the pendant carefully into her daughter's hand and says, “Take this with you.”

“What is it?” Turning it in her hand, she realizes she has never seen this pendant before. With what appears to be natural elements carved into a metal disk too large to be a coin, it seems to her an odd piece to receive now.

“A family heirloom...something that...” she trails off as if reluctant to continue. “Take it. And keep it with you. May it bring you good fortune.”

"Mother, I take you with me. In my thoughts and in my heart."

Elizabeth grips the pendant in her hand tightly, then bends forward and presses her lips to her mother's forehead before resting her own forehead there.

Her mother wearily reaches up and gently caresses the birthmark on her daughter's cheek one last time. “All my blessings go with you, my child. Now, be off.”

She knows that her mother wants her to remember her in better days, with her bright golden hair, deep blue eyes, healthy pink skin. She wishes to save her from watching her deteriorate and die, in pain and madness. And so, in her way, Princess de Sardet remains a force to be reckoned with. Elizabeth, resigned to her mother's wishes, stands and approaches the door, then turns and looks upon her for the last time.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Fingers lingering on the iron bars of the gate, finding the cool objective metal comforting, Elizabeth dips her head forward to feel the coldness sink into her clammy skin. It provides a small wave of relief but does nothing to quell the pain in her heart. For a moment, she allows herself to feel it. To wallow in it. A breath shuddering through her center and out through her lips.

“Get it together, don’t let him see you like this…” she says under her breath, pressing her face to the metal harder, trying to get a handle on her emotions. She breathes slowly in and out until her breathing is steady.

Her heart overwhelmed with guilt, she knows the pain her absence will bring with no one else to hold her mother’s hand and give her comfort in her final days. Despite all of that, she also knows she spoke the truth. Staying would do nothing to help her mother or her people but she feels lost, adrift, as if she has already set sail.

Unfortunately, she has no time to stand here dwelling on her pain. Raising her head, chin up, she sighs deeply and slowly opens the gate, stepping out resolutely into the darkened corridor. Leaving the palace behind her, Elizabeth walks mournfully out into the light of day. Ordinarily, such warmth and softness would be a welcome feeling against her skin. Today it only reminds her of better and brighter days.

As she rounds the right side of the massive fountain that sits in the center of the circular terrace, Kurt comes into view before her, looking out to sea, ringed by the light of the morning sun. Just as she is about to say his name, he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his raven hair, blowing loosely over his head in the sea breeze. A longing shoots through her to know how it would feel to run her fingers through his hair, how the bristly hair on the back of his neck feels. Neither for the first time nor the last, these thoughts find purchase and settle in her mind.

He has never been a more welcome sight than right now when she needs him most. To hold her, comfort her. It is an impossibility, she knows, but she would give almost anything for him to take her into his arms. “Kurt," she says, drawing nearer to him, "it's done,” the wound inside her deepening and widening at the finality.

Turning at the sound of her voice behind him, he says, “Sorry, Greenblood.”

His compassion, held at a distance, only serves to make her feel more sorrow, but it is the only comfort she is going to receive, at least until they find Constantin, so it will have to do for now.

Walking to the rail, looking out to the sea far below them, she sets her eyes on the massive ship that will be taking them away. However, the sight of the ship only deepens her feelings of being adrift and reminds her that they must set sail in only a few hours. She consoles herself, “I hope this island will keep its promises.”

She looks at her city below and sees the rubble of interrupted progress. Serene is littered with the ruin of disease and death. Boarded up homes line the streets. Unfinished work that serves as a reminder of the many lives lost. Her people have been ravaged by this disease they call the Malichor but which they know so little about. She only hopes that this journey will prove useful in finding a cure or at least a treatment for her people.

Kurt turns to her. “In order to know that, we'll need to find Constantin first.”

This is just the distraction Elizabeth needs to keep her mind otherwise engaged. “You’re right. We can't embark without him." Still full of regret, she is disposed to find a task to keep her mind off of the thoughts that are crushing her chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Kurt seems to have something to say but hesitates.

She smiles just a tiny smile that barely reaches her eyes. “Kurt, is there something that you wanted to say?”

He looks down and folds his arms behind his back. “The Commander tasked me with retrieving some merchandise from our supplier, but they refuse to deliver. I did all I could; nothing came of it,” he sighs. “But, as Legate, this is your domain and I wouldn't say no to a little help,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Of course.” Her heart drops at the sight of her proud Coin Guard. Under normal circumstances, she might tease him a little, but not when he is this vulnerable. "Where can we find this supplier?”

He points below to an area on the opposite side of the canal. “In the Lower Burroughs, near the port.”

Elizabeth steps closer and follows his arm with her line of sight. “Right then,” she says trying to maintain the thin façade, mentally cataloging all the tasks she needs to finish before embarking. “I will put it on our list of visits.”

“Where would you like to begin?”

Just before their sparring match, Sir de Courcillon, while searching for Constantin, had interrupted her portrait sitting, which she had only agreed to at the request of her mother. Her cousin was supposed to meet and speak with the local dignitaries but as he had failed to show up in court that morning, Elizabeth had promised she would go meet the emissaries in his stead, grateful for his role in getting her out of an uncomfortable situation.

“I have been asked to pay a visit to the ambassadors of Thélème and the Bridge Alliance before our departure,” she says dully. Elizabeth is not looking forward to meeting with either of these men who will undoubtedly look at her as young and inexperienced. But it must be done, and it will help to keep her mind otherwise engaged. “The embassies are not far from here; we could go there first.”

Kurt nods. “Do you think Constantin will be waiting for us next to the ship?”

Uncertain, she raises her brows and shrugs in a manner that she knows is unbecoming of her position, but Kurt never seems to mind when she drops her formality in such a way. “I hope so…” she admits without much optimism.

Constantin has been looking forward to embarking for as long as he has been aware of his new position, so it is possible he went to the dock first thing that morning. However, considering the long-standing acrimony between the prince and his son, it is unlikely that he would have absented himself today, missing out on the chance to address the court as governor, without good reason.

She glances over at Kurt waiting for him to lead the way or speak but he shifts before her, suddenly standing at attention, a blank look on his face. She knows there is a storm brewing under his detached exterior, but he gives her nothing. Remaining silent, he makes no move to lead, but just stares at her expectantly. So, this is how it is now. The loyal guard just falls into line and waits for her orders. All the years spent together, and he is suddenly the paid mercenary he always pretended to be. Perhaps it is merely her gold that he owes his loyalty to after all.

Leaving the observation deck, walking ahead of him stiffly, she leads them west, down the sloping curve of the path, still listening for the comforting sound of his steps close behind. Kurt steps out in front of Elizabeth as three men appear out of the shadows menacingly wielding their swords. The street is closed off at this end and the only way out is to turn and climb back to the upper deck.

They exchange glances and start to retreat, walking backwards while keeping the three men in sight. Before either can speak, and before they can take more than a few steps back, the men openly attack. However, they are unskilled and wielding inferior weapons and armor. Kurt kicks out hard with his foot connecting with the nose of the one closest to them, creating a spray of blood and causing him to back off. Elizabeth rushes in and sends a quick flurry of blows at the second. She hears Kurt call out “Greenblood!” and whirls around seeing the last man, who disgracefully attempted an attack from behind, quickly dodging out of his reach. Kurt shows the coward no mercy, attacking with a fury that rends the man’s coat, slashing a red line across his chest. The other two drop their weapons and back away, the one Kurt kicked still gushing blood from his nose. Kurt steps forward and collects the weapons, keeping Elizabeth behind him protectively before backing away, eyes on the two unarmed men.

Once they are at a safe enough distance, he turns to her. His voice is full of concern, but his face is flushed, as if he is angry. She has never seen him like this before.

“Greenblood, you need to use your head as much as your heart.”

She has to admit that she did rush in and she knows Kurt’s most important duty is to keep her safe. Maybe she thought that this would somehow help fill the hole that sits in her middle or the gulf that seems to be opening between them with every step they take away from the palace, but she cannot tell him that. Instead, she says, “I will take it under advisement, Kurt.”

As they retrace their steps back to the near side of the fountain, Kurt drops the weapons into a pile of rubble, kicking some debris over the top. Taking the lower path this time, they follow the stairs down. More rubble greets them as they pass and Elizabeth clutches at her chest. Her uncle has forbidden the two cousins from roaming around the city for months and seeing the state of the place for the first time is heart breaking.

“Constantin never told me how bad it was out here…”

As they reach the bottom of the stairs, makeshift tents along the sides of the streets come into view. There is no room in the doctor's infirmaries for more sick. They have been moved to the tents where they can do nothing but wait to die, their agonized wails following her down the street.

Seeing her once beautiful and grand city reduced to such ruin brings fresh pain and guilt to be leaving it in such a state. Boards cover the windows of empty houses, crates of belongings left abandoned. Boards lying discarded, more rubble spilling into the street.

Continuing down, a path brings them to a small courtyard with a dying tree in the center surrounded by a circular fence. Most of the branches removed, it is another victim, its arms lopped off, fallen leaves littering the ground. More boarded windows and doors. The house is as lifeless as the tree someone once carefully planted there.

Rounding a corner, Elizabeth leads them into another dead end where more brigands are hiding, waiting to empty her gold embroidered pockets. Kurt slowly advances on them, his sword drawn and raised, giving them ample opportunity to surrender. But they either overestimate their odds or they are seeking death because they engage the Coin Guard Captain, two of them charging at him. Kurt immediately steps in front of her again.

Two bandits continue to advance, thinking they have the advantage in the fight, but Kurt is more than a Master of Arms now. His sense of duty seems to take over and he swings out with a ferocity that takes down both men in one arcing swing, their pitiable armor destroyed, he leaves them with their lives. Following Kurt’s example, Elizabeth steps out and kicks the third man in the face. Alone, bleeding from his nose and facing two opponents, he drops his weapon and retreats.

Again, Kurt retrieves the abandoned weapons and steps back into some kind of formation. Her eyes flicker to his face, a mask of impassivity she has never seen before. She is unsure if he wears it for her or for himself. “Kurt,” she says, her voice shifting between softness and indignation, “why doesn’t the Guard do something about this?”

He turns, cocking his head at her, his voice shrewd and knowing. “You know why.”

So it is true. The coin. Always the coin. “I know that they are driven by coin, but how does this not fall under their purview?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Greenblood.”

She can hear his voice relenting, softening to her for just a moment as he turns away. Incredulously, she asks, “Are they waiting for a formal request?”

He simply shrugs his shoulders and walks ahead of her, once again dropping the inferior weapons into a pile of debris before waiting for her to lead again. On rare occasions such as this, she finds his quiet, placable nature vexing.

The Quartermaster may not be willing to talk to her about it, but she is determined to address this before their departure.

~Kurt~

Kurt follows at an appropriate distance behind Elizabeth as she begins to make her way through her list of errands. Stands at attention off to one side when she comes to a stop. Answers when she speaks. Filling the role of a coin driven mercenary. Hardening like stone with every step.

A stone-faced liar, pretending not to care, not to want or long for more. He keeps his head down, arms folded behind his back, going through the familiar motions that were trained into him as a child, to know his place and to do his duty but keep his distance from his clients.

This is safer. For both of them. He knows it to be true and yet it hurts like nothing has ever hurt him before. The wounds that gave him his scars, the subversive training he endured, none of that cut him like this distance he has raised between the two of them. For now, though, it’s for the best. At least until they find Constantin. Until then, he just has to remain untouchable. Unreachable.

As it should have been from day one when he put a blunt foil in her hand. She was green for certain then, but Elizabeth had displayed an aptitude for swordplay from the beginning. And, like a fool, he had made no secret of the fact that she was his best, or his favorite, student. Where Constantin whined and was always late, she was always on time, eager to learn and gain new skills. To earn his praise…

He was never one to lavish praise but if anyone had deserved it, she had. And he had allowed himself to get too close, a pat on the back here, a proud smile there. He had allowed the boundaries between them to blur and by the time he realized it, it had been too late. She had already formed an attachment.

She was just a child, and he knew that she had a fixation on him, so he put her through the paces all the harder, being tougher on her than was necessary, to drive out her infatuation. And it had worked. She stopped making doe eyes at him and focused her emotion into her hand and footwork. Raw talent had given way to pure genius, no other person of his acquaintance could boast better natural ability with a rapier. Not even him.

It was better then for her to see him as a gruff and overbearing teacher. And it is better now for her to see him as the mercenary he is.

~Elizabeth~

Kurt maintains his distance. He supports and watches out for her, but Elizabeth feels him shoring up his walls, cutting himself off from her in any other capacity than his role as her protector. When she meets with the dignitaries, he stands off behind and to the side of her as she sits in the plush chairs speaking about political and religious matters, his face a mask of disinterest. However, she knows he is listening intently to every word, noting every decision, watching every move from the corner of his eye.

In the end, her visits to the Thélème and Bridge Alliance embassies only serve to add more items to her ever-growing list of tasks to complete before embarking. Always with the political favors. And, today, she has little time or inclination.

Seeking out Heretics and Charlatans is unpleasant at best. Elizabeth is bound by duty to try to appease the ambassadors, those men with their smarmy self-importance, and disdainful condescension, but she is uneasy at the thought of arresting anyone just to see them handed over to the Inquisitors. The whole business leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

She should leave them to handle their own mess but wonders what will happen to the people they hunt. They will give no quarter and ask no questions, turning them over to the Guard, or worse, the Inquisitors. As pressed for time as she is, she must try.

As she stands, Kurt steps in line following her out the door. She descends the stairs and immediately she hears his comforting footsteps shadowing her. Bound by his duty as well. It keeps him close enough to touch, but too far to reach.

Outside the embassy, makeshift hovels warmed by small fires appear in nooks and around every corner. Such squalor and desperation are now commonplace. More than ever, she knows that her mother was right. She must go and she must find the answer or Serene will be lost. The people cannot continue like this.

Leaving the Prince’s quarter and making their way south towards the canal, she sees how much more dire the situation is than she had realized. There is a large pyre in the middle of the street, and she is almost certain that bodies have been burned there during the night. She can see none in evidence now, but the lingering smell is unmistakable.
 

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Still incensed from their interaction with the merchant, Elizabeth is practically dragging Kurt along behind her at a quickened pace in the direction of the Coin Guard barracks. She had somehow managed to maintain her façade of self-possession in the face of utter disrespect from the man. First, his deliberate failure to acknowledge Kurt, then the way he blatantly attempted to humiliate him for returning with her in tow as if he was unable to handle his own affairs.

What the merchant, a small man who called himself Brennard, had done was reduce the man at her side to a footnote. Though she had pretended not to notice, she had seen how Kurt had shrunk in on himself even through the anger that surged within him. There may be some distance between them at the moment, but she is sure that once they set sail, it will work itself out and she will not tolerate anyone demeaning him in front of her. It had taken every bit of her reserve to stay calm and now she was getting by on sheer defiance and pure willpower alone.

Whatever sympathy she had first felt for the merchant, whose face was obviously marked with the telltale signs of a Malichor infection, which he tried to hide under the beret sitting lopsided on his head, covering the right side of his face in shadow, had quickly dissipated. Asking for a second payment on the merchandise, refusing to reimburse the first based simply on the fact that the Guard attendant had been furtive when he placed the order.

Sometimes it was difficult to find a difference between the merchants and the Coin Guards. Both so driven by their love of coin. Here she is though, legate to the Congregation of Merchants, throwing her title around, using coin to get her way. In the end, she had resorted to bribery, convincing the merchant to allow the Coin to come and take possession of the goods. That settled, they had only to report to the Quartermaster so he could see to it.

Kurt’s sarcastic quip that she was honoring her new title had grated against her nerves, leaving her skin burning. She had simply turned and stormed off towards the barracks, listening for his steps as he hurried to catch up to her.

Storming in, she had drawn the attention of the guards scattered around the barracks, watching her warily as she tore into Quartermaster Leonardt, a cheerless man with a permanent scowl who addressed her from where he sat, without bothering to stand. By the time Elizabeth raises the problem of the brigands roaming the streets, she is already shooting daggers at the man. How dare he put such demands upon Kurt. Did he truly expect a respected Coin Guard Captain to smuggle merchandise onto a Naut ship?

Summoning up as much diplomacy as she can muster considering her irritation with this man and the Guard in general, Elizabeth says courteously, “Sir, I do have one other matter to discuss with you if I may.”

“What can I do for you, Excellency?”

“Have your men not noticed the criminal element hiding in corners and alleyways in our city? Bandits openly attacking anyone who happens across them. Where is the Guard that our coin pays for?” She begins with a soft tone, but her volume rises with her anger as she gives voice to her questions.

“Your Excellency, with all due respect…”

Her hands make a cracking sound as she slams them on the desk. Gripping the edge tightly, she leans in towards the man who shrinks back just enough to her satisfaction, she resolutely says, “I do not want to hear your excuses, sir.” Enunciating each word pointedly, she says, “Just take care of it. If you were waiting for a formal request, consider it done.”

She stands to her full height, raising her chin haughtily before rushing back out with the same force she had entered, breathing slowly in and out, counting the waves until she finds her center again.

~Kurt~

Kurt feels his resolve bending. How long can he keep this up before it breaks? One look from her could unravel his delicate hold, which is hanging on by a thread, torn between feelings of inadequacy and pride warring against each other. On the one hand, he feels emasculated after the merchant treated him like a lap dog. On the other, he feels a surge of pride in the words Elizabeth had used when she addressed him. “You have a Captain of the Royal Guard standing before you. You will show him the deference and respect that his station demands.” The look on the merchant’s face a priceless consolation.

Mercenary. Coin Guard. Captain. Royal Guard. Which is true? Which is a lie? Or is it all true and all lies? He knows more than most that calling themselves the Coin Guard is just an ostensible way of saying hired mercenaries who will turn on one another if the price is right. No loyalty among thieves. No respect. No honor. They train any defiance out of you. The brothers you fight alongside today could be your enemies tomorrow. Loyalty to the coin above all else.

Under Commander Torsten, the Guard has lost its sense of honor. Kurt had failed to see or acknowledge it before, but Elizabeth has begun to open his eyes. It should not fall on her shoulders to ask that they clean up the criminal element from the streets. Looking at her ahead of him he is filled with respect. Struck by her fierce loyalty, he feels his chest swell with pride. Whatever she must be thinking about him right now, she remains steadfast.

Her words still ring in his ears. She destroyed Leonardt and the man had deserved it. He has never seen this side of her before. She is capable of more cunning than the Prince gives her credit for, her cutting blue eyes piercing at times, like daggers. The nobility he has witnessed often, but not the sense of deep respect for him, a lowly guard. But it is a double-edged sword that stings no matter which way it swings.

Kurt follows her unwaveringly though she seems to be moving with no particular direction in mind, weaving through streets seemingly without purpose. He does not question, only pursues her, duty bound. She stops so suddenly he barely manages to slow down enough and ends up softly bumping into her from behind, choking out, “Apologies, Excellency.”

Elizabeth turns slowly, staring blankly at his formal address, and suggests, "Perhaps we should try asking our Captain.”

He takes a step back and nods, but inside he is wishing they could go to anyone but the Naut Captain for help. Being indebted to the man who will be overseeing them for the foreseeable future is grating. Still, he follows her as she begins to work her way south passing more bodies and more crow faced doctors along the way, the smell of death and decay overbearing and choking. He watches as she fails to mask her horror but refuses to speak of it.

Despite her words, Kurt can feel the space between them growing more dense, from a hollow space to a substantial wall. Again, he is struck by the pain of that distance, their familiarity being ripped open and cast away. What hurts the most is not that he built it, but that she seems uninterested in breaking it down.

Asking for her help was no simple feat, but he had little choice. Guards handle their problems at the tip of a sword not the tip of the tongue. And, despite his misgivings, he must admit that she has an innate gift for diplomacy. Of two minds, watching Elizabeth take so easily to her new role, having always admired her sense of honor, a wary feeling of apprehension comes over him, taking root in the pit of his stomach.

To further muddle the issue, Kurt is beginning to get the impression that there is more to this story than a simple misunderstanding. This is a fool's errand, he is sure of it, but he decides to keep it to himself for now. It would do no good to involve Elizabeth in the issue and he’s barely holding it together as it is.

An employee accompanying her alone, he is no longer in a position of command over her. As much as he dislikes the idea, the sooner they find Constantin, the better. At the least, if he is waiting for them at the port, he can step in and take some of the responsibility onto his shoulders instead of once again leaving the entire burden on her. In spite of his growing concern, Kurt reminds himself that Elizabeth has always been the calm to Constantin’s storm. The grace to his wildness.

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

"Lively there, lads and lasses! I promised the merchants and their Prince we'd be off before the tide." Standing tall and proud in the middle of the dock, his crew passing left and right around him, Vasco looks longingly out to sea with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Captain Vasco?"

The voice is feminine but neither soft nor demure. Instead, it is the distinct voice of nobility, haughty, commanding even for the terse greeting. Immediately, his defenses are up. Fucking nobles. This is going to be the longest two months of his life until he gets them delivered and off his ship so he and his crew can relax back into their normal lives.

As he turns, he folds his arms behind his back, adopting his formal stance, cutting a rather handsome figure in his tailored coat, which fits his slight build perfectly. His golden hair partially tied back under the leather tricorne he wears; one ear sports a gold ring, and he has several tattoos covering his face and neck. But it is his pale gold eyes that command attention. Most nobles are taken aback by his appearance, but not this one it would seem.

He tilts his head as he takes in the view before him. This noble is not at all what he expected. She is beautiful, to be certain, but she wears the dress of a lord rather than a lady. Her figure hugged beneath a finely tailored waistcoat in a shade of blue that complements her eyes, with gold embroidered edging and stitching, pleated sleeves revealing a pop of red at the shoulders. Under the coat, a pair of close-fitting, coal-colored trousers are even more surprising. It is exactly what he would have expected to see on a nobleman, but on a noblewoman, never. Even the hat on her head, a downy white plume rising from one side, is unexpected. Somehow, in a strange way, she wears it well.

As she turns her head, the mark on her cheek catches his attention. He has never seen this mark on anyone outside of the natives of Tir Fradi. What an extraordinary story that must be. Perhaps this noble will at least be less boring than the usual fare.

"And you are?" he asks curiously in a refined and pleasant voice.

Edging closer, she addresses him formally. "Elizabeth de Sardet, the Prince's niece. If all is in order, we will soon be embarking on your boat."

Boat? A dinghy is a boat. The Sea Horse is much more than a boat. "It's a ship..." he says, his eyes narrowing, as if speaking to someone who has never seen a ship in their life, "not a boat." His brows raise and he shakes his head.

“Apologies…”

Ignoring her meager apology, he glances at her companion, a quiet but rough looking soldier in the blue and silver colors of the Serene Coin Guard, realizing that one of the passengers is missing. “The young governor is not with you?”

“It seems he did not come home last night. He must have celebrated his eminent departure with a little too much enthusiasm. Is everything else ready, Captain?”

For a moment, he hesitates, this is a Naut problem, not the business of the Merchant Congregation. But with no time to see to the matter himself, what choice does he have. "We are short a crew member." Tilting his head slightly and crossing his arms, he continues, "My cabin boy, Jonas, is missing.”

"Perhaps he had a bit too much to drink in celebrating his departure, like another I know."

"I doubt that. Jonas was never one to fancy drink.” Nobles, even those who dress as interestingly as this one, are all the same. The Nauts are nothing to them but drunken reprobates. As much as he would like to set her straight, he also knows that it is a stereotype for a reason. Also, he needs her help and offending her will only make the next two months that much more uncomfortable. Instead, he asks her for a favor. “Might I ask you if you hear anything, could you report it to me?"

"Of course," she replies.

He has no expectations of the woman but when she begins to ask questions probing into the disappearance, Vasco softens slightly toward her. He never expected she would launch an investigation on his behalf. Perhaps, there is more to this noble. After all, he has been on the receiving end of stereotypical thoughts most of his life. And, despite his proud airs, each insult cuts a little deeper. Does this noble feel those same cutting remarks? Or is she immune, protected by her highborn sensibilities?

Suddenly, he finds himself explaining to this strange and captivating woman how Jonas had missed roll call that morning and had not been seen for two days. And soon he’s gesturing to an area beyond the lower docks to the west where she can find Flavia and Lauro, who might be able help her find where to begin.

"While we are on the subject of missing persons, you haven't heard anything about my cousin by chance, have you?"

Vasco recalls hearing some of his men talking after returning from an animated party at the Coin Tavern the night before. “If your cousin had a mind to celebrate, I would start my search by checking the tavern. Perhaps he’s sleeping it off there.”

She sighs and a look of relief washes over her. “Thank you, Captain.” She hesitates for a moment before continuing, “If I could ask you for a favor, we would like to load some merchandise into your ship's hold."

All of the good will she had built up seeps out of his pores as the color drains from his face, replaced by a rising heat that flushes to his cheeks and his neck. His usually soft and thick honeyed voice morphs into a growl. "Impossible. You are too late for that." Vasco crosses his arms resolutely. "All merchandise much be registered at the Port Authority, and the formalities are long." He lowers his brows and his voice too low for the workers nearby to overhear and continues, "So, unless you're asking me to turn smuggler and hide contraband on my vessel..."

The noble suddenly looks around nervously. "I wouldn't go that far. We are only talking about a few crates after all."

"Well, then, they'll have to wait." Vasco is hardly bothered by her reaction; she should be nervous making such a request. "The next ship for New Serene leaves in a month."

The Coin Guard looks over to the noble and curses, "Hell fire! If that shipment doesn't leave today, the commander will have my hide."

"Captain, I understand your position, but isn't there some way we can get these crates on board?"

He sighs heavily. Just like a noble to think they can push others around and skirt the rule of law. Vasco has nothing against the Coin Guard in general and nothing against this guard in particular but what they’re asking of him is criminal and he doesn’t want to end up in a cell next to the smuggler they caught earlier today. His brows furrow as he contemplates her request. What is it about this woman? Fucking nobles! He better not end up regretting this.

Leaning in a bit closer, his voice lowered, he says, "Even if I wanted to help you, the quartermaster is a half-crazed bridge troll who has convinced himself that smugglers are trying to load contraband on my ship.” He raises his brows suggestively at this and hopes she is getting the message because he is not going to repeat it. “He's placed guards where our cargo is being held before being loaded. All that is not in the warehouse and noted on the manifest will be left on the docks." He crosses his arms to say the subject is closed and turns away.

"Sorry Kurt. At least we tried." A hand taps lightly on his shoulder. "Captain, I wondered if you might be able to help me with another small matter."

Incredible! The audacity of a noble. He practically committed treason to help this woman and here she is already asking for another favor. He slowly turns back to face her, once again folding his arms behind his back in an effort at diplomacy and sighs, "Delighted, if I can be of service, my Lady."

"Have you seen anyone suspicious looking wandering about," she pauses before continuing, "maybe clandestine passengers?"

He gestures at the men and women bustling about. "Take a look around! There are far too many comings and goings to spot possible stowaways! As long as they don't try to get on my ship, I pay no attention to them." The smuggler who he is almost certainly going to be sharing a cell with soon springs to mind. Pausing for a moment, he adds, "That said, we did catch ourselves a smuggler just a while ago."

"A smuggler? Where could I find him?"

His feelings about this noble are suddenly all over the place. On one hand, she is absolutely captivating. She looks unlike any noblewoman he has ever met. And her interest in helping with Jonas seems sincere though only time will tell. But she absolutely has the audacity to rival any noble.

"In the Port Jail, not far from the warehouses.” Again, he conjures an image of himself locked in one of the cells by the end of this voyage. Before this conversation continues or he offers any more assistance, he must know where this is leading. “Might I ask you why the sudden interest in smugglers and stowaways?"

She hesitates for a moment, but then answers candidly, “I have word that two heretics are trying to escape Serene. I have been tasked with their capture by the Thélème Ambassador.”

Interesting choice for a noble to share this kind of information with a Naut. What is she playing at? Has he lost his mind? Against his better judgment, he gave her the details she needed to get her merchandise on board the ship and now he is about to avail himself to her again. Why is it that he wants to help this woman? This noble?

"It just so happens that I overheard some of the Cardinal's men talking about the couple in question. They are far from discreet.” He tips his head in a knowing way. “They were making quite some ruckus, asking to search our warehouses.” At this he notices that the noble looks interested. “We, of course, refused entry. Only the Nauts have access."

“Only the Nauts?”

Apologetically, he says, "Yes, your Excellency. Though I'm certain your potential stowaways aren't far, we won't allow you to make a search to grab them. Not officially at least."

"Meaning what exactly?" she asks.

"That discretion and malice are often more useful than titles and words."

Vasco keeps a vigilant eye on de Sardet and her companion as they wander off, too far for him to overhear their conversation. However, he can imagine the topic of discussion. Regardless of her words, she strikes him as a person who does not give up so easily. Those crates, whatever they hold, will no doubt find their way into his ship’s hold. He looks out to sea and, once again, hopes this does not come back to bite him in the arse.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Unsure of just what to do or say, Kurt follows Elizabeth back up the ramp and out of the Captain’s hearing range, keeping a slow enough pace to allow himself to stop before he collides with her this time. As she turns to face him, he says, “Torsten is going to have my head. No doubt that's exactly what he wanted giving me this impossible task."

"Kurt,” she says softly, holding his gaze, “trust me. I do not give up that easily.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said,” she interrupts him and smiles. “I thought it unwise to reveal too much in front of the Captain of the ship we’re planning to use to smuggle your merchandise. We're just going to have to doctor the manifest ourselves.”

His walls crash down, and he steps closer to her shaking his head. “No, you’ve already done enough. I’m not just going to let you…smuggle merchandise for me now too.”

Elizabeth raises her chin and when she speaks, it is with that haughty tone he hates. “Then it’s fortunate that I outrank you, Captain.”

He shakes his head again. “Why?” Why is she doing this? Why take the risk for the likes of him?

“Kurt,” she says, her eyes narrowed, “I’m not going to let you down. And nothing is going to get in my way. Not even you.”

He sighs in defeat, “Where is the manifest to be found?"

Smiling defiantly, she turns and walks towards the port warehouses. “It must be at the Harbor Master's Office. Once I find the manifest, I only need to add our merchandise to the list.”

Following behind her once again, he keeps a safe distance but lets his walls stay down for now. “I don’t like this, Greenblood. You’re taking too many risks.”

Ignoring him, she continues outlining her plan. “It will be easier for just one of us to sneak in. You can wait for me while I take care of it. If anyone comes along, distract them if you can and I'll meet you back at the port."

“What about Constantin?”

She pauses and turns to look at him. After a moment of consideration, she replies, “It’s best that we don’t get him involved in this. We’ll go look for him at the Tavern as soon as every last crate is inside the warehouse.”

Kurt nods reluctantly in agreement.

~Elizabeth~

The fresh sea air blows in and around the buildings, a pleasant change from the oppressive smell of death and decay that hovers over the city streets. Here there are no bodies, no sickness, no signs of doom. She breathes in deeply as they dart down the side of the building and around the back of a nondescript warehouse adjacent to the dock, to a small, unguarded door.

Slipping inside, Elizabeth finds the entire place empty. Knowing it is unlikely to stay that way for long, she quickly makes her way up the stairs next to the side door, cringing at every creak as she climbs. Around the railing, she finds the door to the office and the manifest is lying open on the desk. She studies the handwriting and does her best to mimic it as she takes the quill pen, dips it in the inkwell and adds the crates to the list before quickly blowing across the script to dry it before she sneaks back out. As she exits, she gives Kurt a nod to let him know she was able to accomplish her task.

"Kurt, do you have any idea how to get the merchandise in the warehouse now without being noticed? It's a lot to move. There is no way we can sneak it in with the men standing there on guard."

He considers and says rather flippantly, "We could offer them a drink. These sailors rarely refuse one."

A drink alone is not enough but his suggestion gives her an idea. "That might actually work if we drop a little soporific in the bottle. They will sleep right through it. Your men would have no worries about being seen or heard.”

Kurt nods and she notes that he grins for the first time since their sparring match earlier that morning. "And we'll be gone to sea before anyone is the wiser."

Just as she assured Kurt, the merchant asked no questions of a noble procuring sleeping potions. Once the brandy is laced with the potion, they return quickly to the Port Authority offices and the two begin to walk toward the warehouse door as if they are slightly drunk and have lost their way, Elizabeth leaning on his arm.

"Halt! This warehouse is off limits! No one passes!" the guard calls out, looking tired and restless but keeping his head level and staring directly ahead.

Elizabeth laughs raucously. “Halt yourself!” Pointing her finger in the general direction of the man’s face, she pulls out the brandy bottle and wrestles with the cork for a while. She pulls at it with her fingers before sticking it right under her eye as if trying to work out a problem, trying to follow it as her hand drops away. Finally using her teeth to remove the cork, she spits it to the ground before raising the bottle to her lips as if she is about to take a drink, swaying a little on her feet. Then she pauses, seeing that the guard is more than a little bit interested. She straightens up a little and thrusts the bottle in his general direction. “Wanna drink?”

The guard reaches a little to his right where her hand holds the bottle. "Eh, maybe just a drop. I have started to get a little thirsty!" He tips the bottle back and takes a large swig before handing it to the other guard.

"Cheers!" she says sweetly with a soft slur, watching the other guard take a rather large sip. She feigns being ill and turns in the other direction, hobbling away, Kurt holding her arm as if supporting her as they leave.

~Kurt~

As soon as they are out of sight of the guards, he releases her arm, unable to maintain contact without retreating back to a safe distance, looking anywhere but her eyes. Hiding and waiting nearby, Kurt is rather surprised at how well she managed to play that out. Neither over the top nor too subtle. As usual, just a touch of perfection. “Well, I wouldn’t have expected that from you, your Excellency.’ he says watching the two guards pass the bottle between them.

She sighs and laughs at the same time. “Do you know how many times I have discovered Constantin in exactly that condition?”

Once again, he curses Constantin under his breath for just how often he leaves his cousin to clean up his messes. In a way, he realizes that New Serene is going to be a blessing for her, no longer responsible for her cousin’s irresponsibility. “I suppose not, because it rarely gets back to the prince and therefore, rarely falls on my ears. Why do you always protect him like that?”

Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, she replies, “I guess I do it because I’m the only one willing to, Kurt. And he faces enough disapproval from his father already.”

He risks a look in her direction while she is distracted watching the Naut guards. Her birthmark highlighted with the late morning sun slanted across it, deepening the texture. “I reckon that’s true,” he mutters, turning his face away before she catches him staring.

By this point, the two warehouse guards have tossed the bottle to the ground, empty and both are slumped together on a crate against the wall.

“Besides, what else am I going to do? Just a lady who has nothing else on her agenda.”

Kurt glances back to her face, intently curious what she means. “You’re more than that.”

When she shifts her gaze to his, he quickly looks back at the two guards who are both now completely out. He stammers out, "We should notify the men. They need all the time they can get."

This time, Kurt leads them quickly around to the other side of the warehouses to where the guards are holding the merchandise. When he spies the two of them, he says "The way is clear. It's time to get going,"

"Don't you be worryin' now! We're off!"

Kurt pulls rank. "Move out! Quick steps!"

While the two men move the crates, he and Elizabeth sit side by side on a nearby crate in a comfortable silence keeping an eye on the sleeping guards. He feels the warmth radiating from her, his body almost touching hers.

Finally, he works up the nerve to speak. “You could always ask for my help with Constantin, you know?”

She turns to him and smiles before looking back to the men who are moving the last crate.

Now all the crates have been moved from storage to the warehouse, he breathes a sigh of relief. So close to the end of this matter, he just wants to be done with it. Done with Torsten. Done with Serene. Done with memories that keep resurfacing, reminding him of how broken and worthless he is.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Just as Captain Vasco had indicated, there had indeed been quite a celebration at the tavern the night before. It sounds like exactly what Elizabeth would expect from her cousin, Constantin. Buying rounds for everyone and getting rowdy, flashing too much gold around. The remains of the festivities still in evidence, several busted tables lay at the far side of the room and empty, amber-colored bottles line the shelf behind the bar, softly clinking against one another, the smell of alcohol permeating every surface.

She had hoped to find him holed up in one of the rooms sleeping it off but no such luck. Instead, she finds a rather furious innkeeper who is demanding reimbursement for the destruction caused by the wild party her cousin had started before he will tell her anything. Surveying the damage, she makes a quick sum in her head and hopes it will be enough.

Elizabeth pulls the coin from her pouch and places it on the bar in front of the man. "Here you are. To cover your expenses."

The scowl suddenly erased; he smiles warmly. "This will do nicely. Honest books make for honest friendships," he says as he slides the coin from the bar top and into his own pouch.

Tired of the whole affair and ready to be on her way, she asks in an exasperated voice, "Can you tell me where I can find my cousin now?"

"Your cousin is either a very bad joker or a right good fool!" The man laughs and continues, "He went and insulted a band of ruffians from the lower boroughs. Dangerous fellows! They've a storehouse they operate out of a few streets from here."

Both she and Kurt groan in exhaustion and head for the door. Outside the tavern, she stands and surveys the area, looking for this storehouse the innkeeper mentioned, occasionally looking to Kurt who stands at attention before her. She steps out into the street, unsure where to go from here.

From behind her, Kurt finally offers some insight. "I might know where we can find him. There’s a large storehouse not far from here where you're certain to find a few men who wouldn't be above kidnapping and ransom. If we follow the street on the western side of the barracks south, we'll come straight to it.”

Elizabeth changes direction and he follows her again racing north and around the face of the building. Once they round the corner, they head west until they reach the street on the far side. Turning again they follow the street into an alley that winds southward. More bodies covered in white sheets line the alleyway. When they have nearly reached the end of the alleyway, they suddenly hear a familiar voice coming from somewhere nearby.

"Open this door you band of ruffians or I'll have you hung! If you had any idea who I am...Open up, imbeciles! I have a ship to catch!"

Kurt turns to face her, head cocked to the side. "I’ll be damned if that’s not Constantin’s voice. It’s coming from somewhere up there,” he says, nodding to the upper floor of the warehouse.

"How would you propose we go about this, Kurt?”

"I'd rather sneak around them than give a half o' coin to these seedy fellows."

They follow the alley east and find some stairs leading down to an open store yard where they hear a number of men talking. Seeing a path to the door that is unguarded and unwatched, she motions to Kurt to get down and try to sneak by quietly. The men are far too drunk and distracted talking about their plans for the ransom money to notice them and they make it to the door and into the warehouse without having to confront the men at all.

They enter cautiously in case there are any more kidnappers waiting inside but the place seems completely empty. The corridor makes a sharp turn at the southern end and takes them to a set of stairs leading up and down. They take the stairs up to the top floor and find two closed doors. Elizabeth first takes a closer look at the door on the left and finds that it’s locked. She pulls a ring of keys from a hook on the wall and begins trying each key in the lock until it finally clicks open.

~Constantin~

Upon hearing the rattling of the lock, Constantin decides it’s time to implement some kind of plan to escape. Picking up a nearby bottle, he raises it in the air as if making a toast. "Well, this has been monumentous, gentlemen, but I have more important things to attend to. An island to govern, treaties to sign, riches to expedite, and a demanding father..." At this point Constantin turns and flings the bottle at the person who has just entered his cell, "to impress!!"

Elizabeth puts her arms up to deflect the bottle, but he is on her before he even realizes who it is. "Constantin, it's me!"

Recognition fills his mind and relief washes over him "My fair cousin, I’m so sorry!” He pulls her in for a hug and wraps his arms around her.

He feels her hold onto him after he starts to let go, her face pressed into his shoulder. Enclosing her in another hug, he strokes her back and lets her take comfort in his embrace shooting a curious look at Kurt who simply shrugs back at him. After a moment he feels her arms loosen and she steps back.

“Ah, my lucky star! Always there to pull me out of my fires."

“I do what I can. You know your father wasn't pleased by your absence this morning."

Despair fills him like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. "Have you ever seen him happy about anything when it comes to me?" His voice soft and melancholy, he says, "You know what he thinks of me."

“He cares about you, I know that. He appointed you Governor, didn't he?"

"He is ridding himself of a source of constant disappointment..." Sighing, he shakes off these thoughts. "Enough about that. Today, we set sail for adventure!"

As they leave the room that served as his prison cell until now, Elizabeth grabs his doublet from the night before haphazardly tossed on the barrels in the back of the hall. Picking it up, and shaking any dust off, she hands it to him. He pulls the coat on over the mess of a shirt his jailers left him in. "If you only knew how these river scum treated me! Do me a courtesy, fair cousin. Now that we stand boldly alongside the brave Kurt, let's teach them a lesson!"

"They haven't spotted us. We could sneak back out of here silently."

"You've always been the reasonable soul," Contantin says admiringly, "but don't you think these brutes deserve a punishment?!"

"Yes, without a doubt, but don't you think there are more pressing matters?” When Constantin ignores her, she turns to the only other reasonable soul among them. “Kurt?" she appeals to him for support.

"It is his Highness' decision to make. Whatever it is, I shall follow."

"Well, then," Constantin says inflexibly, straightening the collar of his coat, “let's give them their money's worth!"

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Constantin now leads the way northeast from the barracks. Every once in a while, Elizabeth looks at Kurt over her shoulder. Perhaps it was wiser to sneak back out of the warehouse, but neither one has any control over her cousin who technically outranks her. Kurt had no choice but to follow his command. What did it really matter? In the end, the kidnappers had given themselves up.

Walking with the four men, their heads down, between the two of them, they had personally delivered them to Quartermaster Leonardt, Elizabeth scowling at the man. She had torn into him, “Now do you see what happens when you turn a blind eye? My cousin, the son of the Prince who pays you to protect this city, could have…if his father ever finds out about this…well I wouldn’t want to be you, sir!” Leonardt tries to be imposing, but the man is just trying to get by under Commander Torsten’s thumb. He had shrunk at Elizabeth’s words and muttered out apologies. Elizabeth can be fierce and intimidating when she is angry and Kurt prays he is never on the receiving end.

She glances back at him one last time before they hear the sound of a man hawking some miracle cure. Kurt relaxes a little when she snaps her head back in the opposite direction. As they climb a small section of stairs, they see a man dressed in the robes of a Bridge alchemist under a shabby stall, many sealed bottles of some kind of liquid lined up on the counter and various alchemical instruments, some sputtering blue flames, on the shelves behind him. A large crowd of commoners and paupers is gathered to hear him.

His speech is polished. Promises of a cure, he calls panacea, a cure for everything but the Malichor. He has an answer for every question the crowd can throw at him. As Elizabeth approaches his stall to get a closer look at his operation, Kurt hangs back but his hand twitches and he takes position, prepared to draw his sword at the slightest provocation from the man.

When she and Constantin return to his side, Elizabeth sighs and says, “I tried to get him to drink one of his potions, but he pulled something from his pocket and drank it instead. He’s hiding something but he’s suspicious of me now.”

Constantin places a hand on her shoulder and raises his brow. “Well, fair cousin, what If I just ordered him to drink one?”

“I should have left you locked up in that warehouse,” she teases, laughing heartily at the way he feigns a look of shock.

Kurt watches the exchange between the cousins enviously. How easy they are with each other, no doubts, no masks and no walls. Shaking these thoughts out of his head he clears his throat. "We need to steal one of his potions and get him to drink it."

"Brilliant idea, Kurt, but how?"

“Well, he has a lot of equipment, and he must have more potions. I would wager that he has them stashed somewhere nearby.”

Elizabeth gestures for him to lead the way. He sighs but walks around the crowd, north towards the canal. To the left, before the canal walk, he spots a conspicuous lock on a metal gate to a storage area directly behind the stall. Quickly glancing around, he opens the pouch over his chest and pulls out two thin metal rods, which are tapered and bent into small hooks at one end. He glances around once more before he digs into the keyhole of the lock, shifting his hands around in minute movements until the lock springs open and falls to the dirt below with a heavy thwunk.

With a cocky grin, he pushes the gate open and bids the cousins enter. The three sneak into the area and discover the man’s cart and goods and find a crate full of the same bottles he displays in his booth. Kurt picks up a bottle, turning it in his hands, before handing it to Elizabeth who slips it into her pocket before continuing to rummage through the crates.

Shrugging his shoulders, Kurt decides to search the cart where he discovers the journal of someone named Arif. The pages are filled with complex formulas and scientific data, which clearly indicate that the author is an alchemist who is familiar with the science of potions and healing, in contradiction with Ambassador Sahin’s claims. He places the journal in Elizabeth’s hands and nods at it.

As she reads it, her face contorts in anger. “It seems that Sahin lied to me and tried to manipulate me. We have to question this man and see what he has to say for himself.” She rips a page out stuffing it in her coat and tossing the journal back into the cart.

The charlatan watches Elizabeth and her entourage return, and Kurt notices the man eying him warily. He pulls Constantin beside him and keeps their distance, giving her the chance to work on the man. The two of them carrying on, the man throwing his hands up and giving her looks of irritation as she holds her composure. Suddenly, he squeezes past the crowd that is gathered around his stall and disappears to the south toward the tavern.

Kurt instinctively pulls Constantin away from the man as he runs past, looking to Elizabeth to see that she is unharmed. "Damnation! You okay, Greenblood?”

Elizabeth nods and then gestures to the crowd which has started to form a mob. "We must find him...before his head ends up on a pike."

"We need to take a look at the tavern. He won't leave the city without his belongings."

Elizabeth leads them back to the tavern, which is just to the south. The crowd has grown loud and restless, and they slip quietly through. Once inside, they make entry through a door on the south side of the main tavern area, which brings them to a hall with a door before them, and a set of stairs leading up to their right. Taking the stairs, they end on a landing in front of a closed door. Behind the door they hear the sounds of someone packing in a hurry.

Elizabeth turns to him and says, “Kurt, wait here with Constantin. He’ll be more likely to speak to me alone.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you alone with some dodgy charlatan…”

“That’s an order, Captain.”

He bristles but nods and gives her a mock salute as she turns and quietly enters the room.

Constantin smiles and crosses his arms over his chest. “You took that well, Kurt.”

“The first sign of trouble I’ll be breaking that door down.”

Constantin laughs and pats his shoulder.

Shaking his head, Kurt chortles back at him, relieved to just be for a moment. Despite his obvious lack of interest in training, it has always been easier being with Constantin. Never worrying about how close he’s standing or how his words are read. How his behavior is interpreted. They have a lighthearted easiness between them that he enjoys though he will never admit it.

In contrast, when he is with Elizabeth, he is rarely at ease. Always measuring the space between them, being careful with his words. Only touching her when absolutely necessary. If she were not a lady, everything would be simple… Who is he kidding? If de Sardet were a man, none of this would matter and he would feel fine instead of feeling like his world was ending.

Constantin seats himself on a barrel with one foot raised, the heel of his boot caught against the raised edge. Kurt reclines against the wall by the door listening for any sound of a struggle inside. He hears the sound of Elizabeth’s voice but whatever she is saying is too muffled for him to make out. Her reason for ordering him to stay in the hall is sound but the fact that she pulled rank on him sits like a heavy stone in his middle. Each time she commands him, he feels less connected to her. But it’s all his fault. The moment he walked out of the palace that morning, he had switched on and stayed on, aside from a few slips.

As much as it hurt, he knew it was the right thing to do. Even with Constantin in tow, he tries to be professional, maintain that separation. His head falls in line but his heart still fights against his better sense, pounding in his chest. He leans his head back, breathing slow and deep, trying to calm himself, when the door next to him swings open and Elizabeth storms out closing the door firmly behind her.

Constantin speaks up first. “Oh cousin, that look tells me something is not right.”

“The Bridge Alliance Ambassador lied to me. This man, Arif, is indeed an alchemist, a former member of the Academy of Al Saad no less!”

“How dare he lie to you, cousin! I will deal with him swiftly and mercilessly!”

“Constantin, calm down. I will handle it.”

“Excellency, what is the plan?”

She looks in his direction, frowning for a moment before shaking it off and raising her chin. “If I hand him over to the Alliance, they will do anything to silence him. So, we’ll help him leave the city. He has promised that if we help him leave, he will never return.”

"Then we need to get him out of here as fast as we can.”

She knocks on the door this time. When it opens, she says, "Follow us downstairs and stay behind me."

They leave the room and follow the stairs back down. The mob is out front, so they look for a way to leave through the back of the building. The door at the bottom of the stairs leads to a kitchen area where Elizabeth finds a door tucked away in the back. Once he has pried the lock, Kurt opens the door and peers out and sees that the way looks clear.

They step out into a makeshift infirmary where there are tents and cots full of the sick. Several doctors are passing to and fro, administering potions and caring for the patients. To the left is a gate, which will free them and allow the man to get safely back to his cart.

Once they ensure that the way is truly clear, Elizabeth speaks to the man and says, "Go straight to your cart and leave the city while you can."

"I owe you my life. How can I ever thank you?"

"Just go," she says impatiently, "while there is still time."

"My Lady, I know that it does not make up for my actions, but as proof of my word, take this letter. It was written to me by a colleague. An alchemist with the Academy of Al Saad. Use it as you see fit. Farewell." He quickly sneaks away to the west of the barracks before heading north and out of sight.

She reads the letter and sighs heavily before passing it to Constantin. Kurt watches as his face contorts and then reaches out for the letter, which is reluctantly placed in his hands. Addressed to Arif, it seems to confirm at least some of what she has been told. After reading it he hands it back to her, the tips of their fingers grazing as she takes it from his hand. Her head raises and his eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath and sighs. "This letter speaks truth of his claims of torture and unethical experiments at the hands of Bridge Alliance alchemists. And his expulsion from the academy for exposing them. How can I go back to the ambassador and ignore this?"

"I'm sure you'll do what you think is right, Greenblood."

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Eyes furrowed and arms crossed rigidly over his chest, Kurt watches uneasily as Elizabeth slips silently over the wall behind the port jail and out of his sight. For a moment he regards how stealthily she manages the climb, he never taught her covert tactics. He is reminded of their sparring match earlier, when she dodged his attack by rolling backwards and away from his attack. A disquiet settles into his mind as he begins to wonder where she picked up such maneuvers.

Glancing over to Constantin, the king of surreptitious schemes, leaning casually against the wall, Kurt sighs and shakes his head. The two cousins, thick as thieves, have evidently been up to more trouble than any one person realized. He looks for a sign of worry for his cousin, but Constantin is either unconcerned or oblivious. The man is a monument to the self-absorbed.

Leaning back against the wall, he huffs in exasperation, kicking one boot in the dirt before resting it against the wood plank, his knee bent at a slight angle. He opened this can of worms but now it is biting him mercilessly in the arse. The more he steps into the role of mercenary, the more she treats him like one. And the more she treats him like a mercenary, the more he feels like one. He started a vicious cycle that he can see no end to. At least none that ends well for either of them.

Obviously, the Prince had not thought things through that morning when he directed Kurt to follow Elizabeth’s orders once they left the palace. But he should have known right away as he watched her eyes shift mischievously in his direction. After fifteen years spent training her, he knew how stubborn she could be.

And here she is, sneaking into a port jail, risking everything while he sits on his thumbs. Ordered to stand down. If the Nauts catch her, she can call on her uncle, but he will certainly blame Kurt. Perhaps even fire him. As this realization hits him, he jerks up and nearly climbs over the wall after her but sees her hands appear over the top, followed by her face as she pulls herself back over and drops down next to him as quiet and satisfied as a fox escaping a hen house.

“Well, fair cousin, what did you learn?”

“The people we are looking for are in one of the warehouses.” She points and they turn, gazes following her arm to a nearby building. “That one to be precise. Upstairs. I’ll have to sneak in, and I want you two to keep watch.”

“Greenblood, do you have any idea what your uncle will do to me if you get caught?”

“Well, then, I guess I better not get caught.”

Walking inconspicuously, Elizabeth leads them around to a narrow alley between the warehouses. Around on the rear side of the building is a landing with a ladder leading up. She pushes Constantin behind some crates and practically begs that he stay below hiding before she climbs up the ladder with Kurt following close behind. They step onto the landing next to a door where she orders him to wait for her.

When he protests, she insists, “They’re two priests in hiding, Kurt. Hardly a threat. If any Nauts show up, I’ll do my best to talk my way out of it. But…if you hear anything worrying…”

“I’ll be there.”

She smiles softly before she disappears through the door and out of his sight.

The longest wait of his life follows. He vacillates between pulling his sword and inspecting it stoically, glancing down to keep an eye on Constantin below and trying to listen through the door. Fighting the urge to barge in, he takes a seat on a nearby crate and plants his foot firmly on an adjacent one. Shifting his legs from one to the other resting on the crate, he occasionally glances down at Constantin’s shape tucked into the space below, still listening for any sounds of trouble from inside.

After an agonizingly long time, he hears the door opening and sighs in relief when Elizabeth slips back out safely. He gives her a questioning look.

“The Thélème Ambassador is as slimy as the Bridge Alliance Ambassador. These people are no more heretics than you or I. They are being persecuted over some hard to swallow truths they discovered.”

“What now?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Nothing. I freed the smuggler, and he should be getting in contact with them soon.”

"You have a kind heart, Greenblood. It'll be the end of you one day, but I wouldn't want to see some poor buggers end up on a burning pyre."

"It would seem that I am not the only one with a tender heart."

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Once again stationed outside with Constantin while she questions Flavia in the bunkhouse, Kurt broods quietly while he waits for his charge, scowling across the way, eyeing the Naut Captain with a severe look. Tall and imposing, proud, with the kind of looks that garner attention. Two months at sea with that man at the helm? If the Naut Captain has failed to catch Elizabeth’s eye so far, he’s sure to soon enough.

But what should that matter? His job is to protect her, not to concern himself with who she chooses to give her attentions to. And, he has to admit, a handsome Naut Captain is better than some self-important courtier who only wants an advantageous connection. Some narcissist who will never appreciate how amazing she is, who will try to break her indomitable spirit.

When the door opens and then closes heavily behind him, he turns and waits for Elizabeth to speak.

“Well, it certainly seems like the Captain is right. There is something suspicious going on, but all I know so far is that the boy is not prone to drink, has no enemies and no one has seen him in two days.” She pauses for a moment, weariness heavy on her face, before she shifts and orders, “Kurt, wait here while I go talk to this Lauro.” Her gaze shifts to Constantin and she quickly adds, “Alone.”

He sighs heavily, insides twinging at the mention of the Captain, but stays as commanded, watching her as she heads south towards several stacked crates where a Naut sits with a bottle in his hand. He turns, going back to his scrutiny of Captain Vasco. How does a sailor go missing under his nose? His men are his responsibility. Why are they responsible for searching for a missing cabin boy?

But he is one to talk. Constantin sneaking out to the tavern the night before their departure and he none the wiser. He wonders what other mischief the two cousins have been up to right under his nose. True, he had caught them trying to sneak out several times when they were younger, but he thought he had broken them of that habit. Now, he’s not so sure. Perhaps he just stopped catching them at it. Perhaps his mind has been too focused on one to see the other.

This new furtiveness in Elizabeth is worrisome. Where had she picked it up? How long had it been going on? He glances over to Constantin, who sits on a nearby set of stairs, distracted with picking at one of his fingernails. He will get to the bottom of this before the day is out. But just as he begins to open his mouth to question him, he hears the soft steps of her boots behind him.

“So, it seems our missing cabin boy might have been taken after all.”

Kurt turns slowly to look Elizabeth in the eye. “What makes you think that?”

She stands with her hands folded properly in front of her. “This Lauro claims to have seen the boy grabbed and dragged off by a well-dressed man and some ruffians. He was too drunk at the time to do anything though.”

“Did he tell anyone?”

“He said he tried to tell Flavia, and she did mention something about it, but she didn’t believe him.”

This makes no sense. No one is going to pay a ransom for a cabin boy. They seem to be the only ones even interested enough to investigate his disappearance. Not even his fellow Nauts seem to have looked into it.

“Why? Why would anyone want to take a cabin boy?”

“I have no idea, but he did say that there was another witness to the abduction. A man they play cards with at the tavern.”

“I suppose it’s back to the tavern then?” And here he was thinking he was no errand boy.

She steps around him and takes the stairs squeezing by Constantin who stands and follows behind her. Kurt steps in line taking up the flank, watching the two cousins closely as they make their way north down the alleys and side streets. Every covered body they pass seems to elicit a response from her, her shoulders dropping a little more with each one. He has noticed the weight increasing on her since they left the palace that morning but until they depart, there’s nothing he can do or say to help and that only makes him feel that much more useless.

When they arrive back at the Coin tavern, Elizabeth turns and looks directly in his eye. He can tell that she is making a request, but it still feels like an order. “Kurt, it’s probably best you keep my cousin out here away from trouble while I go and ask a few questions.” She shoots a knowing look at Constantin.

He nods and grabs Constantin by the back of his collar to keep him from following her inside.

“Kurt, don’t treat me like a child.” Constantin says petulantly as he tries to pull away.

Kurt pulls him around to look into his face before releasing him. “She’s right. That tavern keeper was right angry about you bustin’ up his place. Your fair cousin had to drop a fair amount of gold from her purse to appease him and get him to talk so you’ll pardon me when I follow her command even if I have to use force.”

“Fine,” Constantin says indignantly as he straightens the collar of his coat. “But only because I don’t want to cause her any more problems.”

Kurt snorts and leans on the metal railing. “I don’t particularly care about the why, your Highness.” He hesitates for a moment and glances down at his feet before he continues. “How exactly did you manage to sneak out last night anyway?”

Constantin laughs and places a hand on his shoulder. “Kurt, you can’t possibly expect me to reveal to you all my secrets.”

He had expected this much but the time when his father could order him to stay behind the palace walls had passed. “What difference does it make now? You’re no longer under house arrest.”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Fair, but I wonder how involved your cousin was,” he says, his brows rising in disapproval.

Something he cannot make out flashes across Constantin’s face. “I see. Kurt, I understand you want to protect her, but you might be surprised how well she can take care of herself.”

Constantin turns and walks around the railing to lean on the outside of the tavern wall, apparently finished with the conversation. Kurt feels a ball of worry growing in the pit of his stomach. This conversation is not over. If he has to corner the man after they board ship, he will have his answers.

He leans back against the wall, standing there for long enough to nod off and jerks awake a little while later when music and voices drift out of the open tavern door as Elizabeth exits before closing the door and cutting the noise out. He shakes the sleep off and stands at attention watching as Constantin comes close.

Elizabeth takes a deep breath before she begins to relay to them what she learned. “It all seems to follow. The man they play cards with admitted he had seen a wealthy merchant come in with a band of strong-arms, coin guards I presume, who had words with the cabin boy. They left but when he was outside later, he saw them return and take the boy, Jonas, with them.”

“And the merchant?”

"He claims it was Sir Fontaine."

Kurt gives her a look of disbelief. “Why would a wealthy merchant kidnap a cabin boy?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the only lead we have.”

He gestures for her to lead the way and once again steps in line behind the two cousins as they make their way north to the Prince's Quarter and then head east past the embassies to a small circular group of houses where they find the Fontaine home. A servant greets them in monotone and bids them enter. When Elizabeth asks to speak to Sir Fontaine, the servant asks the two men to wait downstairs before she leads Elizabeth up the stairs.

Constantin begins to walk around the room picking up knick-knacks and books randomly from the shelves, turning them in his hands before putting them back haphazardly with no regard. Kurt walks around behind him putting everything back in its proper place. This must be what it’s like being a servant in the palace, constantly picking up after the man. Is this what it’s going to be like living on a ship with him for two months? Constantin had insisted on bringing a servant, but it would hardly be enough to keep up with the man’s curiosity and propensity for making a mess wherever he went.

After some time, Elizabeth returns, looking flustered and tromping down the stairs and out the door with the two men following close behind...

“This makes no sense. Lady Fontaine claims that this Jonas is her son, who she calls Celestin, and that they took him back from the Nauts. Something to do with contracts and stealing children, ransom. That’s all she would say.”

“It sounds like we need to talk to that Captain again.”

~Vasco~

Vasco sees a few men look behind him curiously and turns to see the return of the Legate with the young governor and Coin Guard in tow. The Coin Guard eyes him warily. Much the same as he had from across the port just a while earlier. This is going to be an interesting trip indeed.

And, unfortunately, he has run out of time. He curses under his breath ‘Jonas, where are you?’ before he addresses her. "Madam."

Her cousin speaks up first, rather excitedly, introducing himself. "Constantin d'Orsay, future Governor of Teer Fradee! Enchanted Captain! I am eager to board your ship!"

At least he called it a ship. "Enchanted as well, your Highness!” Turning back to Elizabeth, he says flatly, "I'm still without news of my cabin boy."

She nods and raises her eyebrows. "I just came from speaking with Lady Fontaine. She told me she is the mother of the cabin boy. She claims that her son was taken from her by the Nauts."

Nobles. Making deals without fully considering the consequences. Expecting their station to get them out of following through on the terms of contracts they hastily sign. "Taken?" Vasco growls. How dare they accuse them of taking their son. "Jonas is sea-given. He was given to the Nauts to honor the terms of a contract."

"A contract?”

This noble, this Legate, seems ill-informed of the customs and procedures of the factions she must contend with. Here he is once again, educating her on things she should already know. "A commercial contract between members of the Merchant Congregation and the Nauts. In exchange for services rendered, some families cede...more than gold.” He tilts his head at her, crossing his arms behind his back.

“But what kind of contract are we speaking of?"

He breathes in and sighs deeply. “I wouldn't be able to tell you the conditions of Jonas' contract. I didn't even know he was originally from Serene. But what I can tell you is that the young man hasn't seen his parents since he was a child. And ever since, he's been a Naut. Our ships are his home, and we are his only family," Vasco says defensively, and rather angrily.

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth nods curtly and stalks away from the Captain, humiliated by her lack of knowledge. All the time spent studying bylaws and other tedious business, she should have been learning about more practical things like these contracts. What else does she not know?

Kurt and Constantin follow her away from the dock and back up the ramp. "I have never heard of this kind of thing before. It seems like something that we should have been informed of considering our new duties and responsibilities."

"Can you think of anyone else who might be able to help? Anyone who is not a Naut?" Kurt adds.

"Oh how I would like my father to be implicated in this sordid business! Our old teacher must surely know what's going on here."

The three look around the area and spy the man waiting to board on a sort of platform that overlooks the lower dock area. When he notices Constantin in their group, the man exclaims, "Your Highness! I am happy to see you! Your absence this morning worried both your father and me."

"Come now, Sir de Courcillon, my father may have been angry, outraged or disappointed, but he's never worried about me. I am sad to have caused you any worry though." He begins to regale him with the story of his kidnapping and rescue. "Would you believe that I was rotting away in a sinister jail, guarded by thugs ready to kill me? Though still seeing double from last night's drink, I was preparing an ingenious escape plan when...Ta Da! My fair cousin jumped out of nowhere and saved me! I am quite the fairytale damsel in distress!"

"You might have refrained from the company of bandits the night before such an important departure," he says, admonishing Constantin.

Constantin feigns umbrage. "Take away the risk and halve the pleasure, Sir de Courcillon! It is the salt of life!"

"Hmm, I fear that some of my teachings have been misunderstood." He turns to Elizabeth. "Did you need something?"

"I've had a word with Lady Fontaine. She told me a strange story about her son who was a cabin boy on our ship. She said that he was taken when he was a child due to some contract with the Nauts. They took him back to bring him home."

"Well, that is very unpleasant news. You must do all you can to bring the boy back to his ship. “

She rubs her temples with her fingertips as fatigue begins to set in. “I don’t understand what this is all about.”

“There has always been a certain...price to pay for the services of the Nauts. Children born on their ships belong to them, it's the rule of the sea. But certain contracts are so important they also require children to be offered in exchange. From time to time, the Congregation has passed such accord, and certain noble families had to give their children up."

"Are you telling me that the Fontaines lost their son in an agreement signed between my uncle and the Nauts?"

"No. That pact ended a long time ago. This cabin boy couldn't have been a part of that contract. But Sir Fontaine has made a fortune trading with the Alliance...via ships."

"Do you mean he would have offered up his own son in exchange for wealth?" she asks incredulously.

"Well, he probably did it before the birth of the child and regretted it afterwards. But that is of little importance. What counts most is that you bring the boy back to the Nauts as quickly as possible. Breaking a contract with the seafarers has always cost us dearly."

Elizabeth thanks Sir de Courcillon and leads them back up the stairs away from the port.

She shakes her head, and sighs. “This information, while enlightening, doesn’t really help us find the boy.”

"He certainly isn't in the Fontaine home. And they would have wanted to keep him away from the docks."

Kurt is right, though it hardly narrows down the list of hiding places. But something one of his crew members said floats up to her mind. "Flavia said something about hearing Jonas' voice near the canal but she also admitted she was three sheets to the wind when it happened, so I didn’t think much of it at the time. But the Fontaine warehouse is just south of the canal. You could pass right by it on your way from the tavern to the port."

"Well done, Greenblood! Let's go!"

As they approach the canal, they come to a large warehouse and Kurt turns to her apprehensively. "Here we are. Be careful. Fontaine won't be alone. He'll have his henchmen with him."

"A handful of underlings don't scare us away, right, cousin?"

“Perhaps we can simply sneak in, grab him, and get out again without needing to confront anyone.”

Kurt glances around and begins to walk around the warehouse where they discover a low wall. He climbs over and Elizabeth and Constantin follow. “No guards.”

Elizabeth sneaks around the area quietly and finds a hidden set of stairs behind a large stack of barrels. She motions to them to follow her and they softly descend the stairs. At the bottom is a door with a lock and she motions to Kurt to work his magic lockpicking, watching intently as he takes two tools from his pouch and makes quick work of it. He catches the lock as it falls and places it in her hand with a smug smile.

Goodwill. Even if it is only for a moment, there was something there in his look. “You have to teach me to do that, Kurt,” she smiles wickedly back at him.

“I’m afraid not, Excellency. Then I would be completely useless.”

She shakes her head and scoffs at him before stepping quietly through the door. Off to the end of the corridor they see barred doors, cells. As they get closer, they see that one of the cells contains a young man.

Constantin, who has a decidedly negative view of fathers in general, says "So it's here that our man keeps his son. Ah abusive fathers!"

Elizabeth pinches Constantin’s ear and shushes him then motions to Kurt to work his magic and open the cell. Again, he picks and catches the lock, gently leaving it lying in the barred window beside the door. Elizabeth enters the cell and slowly approaches the boy.

"Who are you?" Jonas asks.

Unlike the other Nauts they have seen, he has no tattoos and wears a simple uniform instead of the typical coats they wear. He is also much younger and has his father’s dark complexion.

"My name is Elizabeth de Sardet. Your Captain sent me to find you."

“Can I return to the ship now?”

“Stay behind me and keep quiet,” she whispers, putting a finger to her lips before turning and exiting the cell.

They sneak back down the corridor to the door where they entered and climb the stairs back out to the storage area, quickly scaling the wall and moving a safe distance away.

“Find your way to the ship. I will see you there shortly."

So close to the end of her list of tasks, she sighs in relief. “I have put it off as long as possible but now I must speak with Ambassador Sahin and Cardinal Antonius. I just hope I have given the smuggler enough time to get them out of the city.”

“You gave them a chance, Greenblood. That’s more than anyone else would have done.”

“That may be true, but it doesn’t make it right. I could have tried to do more.”

He cocks his head at her and raises his brows. “Fess up. How much gold did you give them?”

Before she can stop herself, a smile plays on her lips and she begins to walk north toward the embassies, calling out over her shoulder, “I’ll never tell.”

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

The tide is coming in and yet most of his passengers have yet to show up. He glances around beyond the port watching for that telltale plume, but nothing. According to Jonas, she had said she would be behind him but that was a while ago now. The cargo is loaded, the crew is on deck, the winds are picking up and the sea is calling. Everything is in order except for two very important nobles.

Vasco gives a deep sigh of relief when he spots them in the crowd, which, he notices, parts around them like the sea around the hull of his ship. Was it her? Did she have this power over everyone, not just Naut Captains? Perhaps it is just an aspect of nobility that everyone defers to them. No matter. They are here and he can keep his word and sail with the tide.

Constantin bounds excitedly down the ramp towards the dock, his boots clacking against the wood, and addresses the captain, his voice loud and clear, "Captain Vasco, we are ready to embark. Can we weigh anchor?"

Turning in his direction, Vasco gives the prince a respectful nod of his head. "We shall set sail with the tide, as agreed upon."

Vasco’s eyes then trail over to Elizabeth, taking her in and reconsidering his initial judgment of her. "My cabin boy is back on ship. I thank you for that…” His earlier distemper has all but melted away, his voice taking on a new softness and warmth. He never expected a noble to take such an interest in the disappearance of a simple cabin boy. Perhaps he has misjudged her. There was certainly more to her than their first meeting had revealed.

“It was my pleasure, Captain. Permission to board the ship?"

With no time to delay, he says, "Follow me," guiding them to the stairs behind them that lead down to the lower dock area watching as she takes one last look back before following.

As they follow behind, Constantin exclaims, "I am so eager to discover Teer Fradee. My isle. My new city!"

"I don’t know if I would be so eager, Highness. They say the place is full of gigantic creatures. As big as buildings,” the guard replies.

"I heard a rumor the Nauts brought one back in one of their ships."

"I doubt that. The Nauts are strange, but they're not idiots!"

Vasco listens to their conversation in amusement. It is true; they do have just such a creature on one of their ships, currently tied, caged, and sedated. The Bridge Alliance insisted on sending one to their home city of Al Saad to be studied by their best alchemists. It made him nervous the entire trip and he is glad to be done with it.

As if on cue, a deafening sound comes from the hull of the ship before them. They all slow their pace, listening to the ship groan and creak against the force of whatever is trying to release itself from its depths. It shudders in the waves, splashing water around the hull.

A sailor runs to the ship's rail and shouts down to Captain Vasco, "The beast has awoken!!!"

He turns to his passengers, face contorting in rage. "Those conniving, piss-distilling Bridge building liars! The creature was supposed to be out for days! They'll pay for this!"

Something massive inside the ship is tearing at the hull and trying desperately to escape. They see the port side cracking and beginning to give way under the tremendous pressure. The sound, the wood planks cracking and grating and the howl of some wild and terrible creature, is horrific.

"What in the hell manner of cargo are you transporting?" The guard puts his arm out in front of Constantin as a measure of protection.

"Help! We need ropes! We must contain it!" The sailor is still yelling from the deck.

Constantin moves around to the front of the group, saying, "Come now, let's lend them a hand!"

The creature finally breaks free, splintering the hull and dragging itself out. It has several spears through its appendages, knotted with the ropes used to keep it tied down inside the ship. One of its legs seems to be missing a foot, lost in the fight to free itself. Despite its weakened state, it is still quite intimidating; enormous and physically strong.

Reaching out for Constantin, the guard raises his voice over the wailing of the creature. "Watch out! Take a step back, sir!"

Everyone moves back except Constantin who is nearest the ship. The creature lumbers forward, getting closer. Under the pressure of the cracked hull and collapsing deck, the main mast begins to fall towards the creature and Constantin. Vasco watches in amazement as the noble darts forward and grabs her cousin by his coat heaving him towards the guard just before the mast crashes on top of the creature, nearly hitting her as well, and knocking her off her feet by the vibration of the mast crashing down beside her.

She glances back at the rest of them. "Kurt! Captain! Keep my cousin safe!"

The guard follows her orders and forces Constantin behind him pushing him away from danger.

Vasco hesitates for a moment unsure what to do, but something about the sound of her voice and the look in her eyes makes him follow the guard while keeping an eye on her.

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth sees the pendant her mother gave her glint in the sun, and she picks it up quickly before rounding on the gigantic creature. It is massive and resembles something like a tree in appearance. Its large appendages like the trunk, with antlers atop its head and spikes running down its backside appearing like branches.

It picks up various pieces of debris lying on the dock around it, including pieces of the broken hull, hurling it at her, which she dodges easily. As it moves to get closer, it tries to bring its massive hands down and crush her. She has no choice but to defend herself and keep others safe.

She tries to gain a little distance and weaken the beast, alternating dodging its blows and making quick counterattacks she begins to wear it down while managing to prevent it from ever making any real contact. When she sees an opportunity, she goes on the offensive, striking out with her heavier weapon, a small war hammer. She does little to no damage but, despite that, the creature seems to be reeling, as if it is frightened, backing away and cowering. Her heart wrenches for it but it is far too injured to leave it suffering and far too dangerous to try to approach. With a deafening bang, she fires one bullet into the creature’s head, releasing it from its torment.

As she lowers the pistol, the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air around her and filling her nostrils, bile rises in her throat, and she swallows harshly against it. Her skin feels cool and her head swims. It is the first time she has killed anything or anyone and it weighs heavily on her. The creature seemed more frightened than angry, and she is shaken by watching the light go out of its eyes.

~Kurt~

Kurt rushes to Elizabeth’s side. He sees it in her eyes immediately, the fear and the guilt, the way she is shaken by what she has done. He has seen it before, in recruits, and in his own eyes. He should have stepped in and done the deed, saved her that at the very least. He knows when next she sleeps, she will be dreaming about the eyes she darkened, the gunshot going off again and again in her mind. The lifeless hulk going still. No amount of training can prepare you for the reality of taking your first life.

Carefully he closes the distance between them, standing before her, watching her intently. "Greenblood! How do you fare?!"

She turns to face him, "Fine...fine. It’s dead." She holds out her arms, her hands still holding the weapons to show him she is fine but her hands tremble and when she looks into his eyes, he can see a layer of sweat rising on her skin, her mouth swallowing against the bile in her throat.

“Yes, I can see that, but are you okay?” Kurt reaches for her off hand, trying to look for injuries. She almost seems to be in shock.

She pulls away from him. "I'm well, your lessons have proven effective," a hint of venom in her voice.

Kurt takes a slight step back, momentarily hurt, but knowing she is lashing out, trying to deal with her own pain.

Constantin, with his always perfect timing, comes up from behind her and exclaims, "Cousin! What a fight! You were illustrious!"

If he could physically shut Constantin’s mouth, he would. Instead, he steps between them and gives him a look that instantly makes him turn and walk away, hands up in mock surrender.

Turning back to Elizabeth, he warily moves in as close as he dares and places his gloved hand tentatively on her shoulder, ready to pull back at the slightest look. Her legs almost collapse under her, and he grips her arm to steady her as she sinks to a squatting position before him, arms wrapped around her knees and her face hidden behind her protective wall.

He glances around and sees Vasco watching them curiously. Kurt holds up one hand to the man, his brows raised defiantly.

He immediately crouches in front of her and trains his full attention back to Elizabeth, his hand still gripping her arm, the other he gently rests on her shoulder. “Hey, Greenblood, look at me. Focus on my eyes.”

“Kurt?” she murmurs as she lifts her head and raises her glance to his eyes.

He whispers, “It’s okay. I know.”

She grips his doublet in her hands, and in a shaky voice she whispers, “I didn’t want to…I had no choice. I had to protect Constantin…and you.”

“I know, trust me, I know.”

She is still trembling a little but the shock seems to be wearing thin and her eyes are clear so Kurt attempts to stand, slowly pulling her up with him. A need to get her onto the ship and away from the prying eyes of everyone milling around the dock surging through him. “Breathe. Just breathe.” He breathes deeply in and out with her a few times watching as her color improves.

She closes her eyes and whispers, “Thank you, Kurt,” releasing his doublet suddenly as she realizes she was gripping it, a blush rushing to her cheeks.

Slipping into her mask, retreating behind her walls, she gives the appearance of normalcy, but he knows how fragile the veneer is.

“Anytime, Greenblood.”

~Vasco~

Watching the exchange between Lady de Sardet and Kurt, she had called him, Vasco prepares himself for the coming storm. If she fails to berate him, her faithful guard will certainly come through.

“Is everyone okay?” he asks carefully.

Kurt nods and shoots him a quick glare but says nothing else.

Vasco looks down at his feet, hands clasped behind his back. "I…apologize. We were assured that the creature would be out for several more days. Those damn Bridge alchemists put us all in danger!" He glances over at the ship, the gaping hole in its side, the broken mast. The Admiral will not be pleased.

"No worries, Captain, no one was hurt."

"Thanks to you, fair cousin!" Constantin cries out from behind them.

Vasco watches curiously as Kurt gives the man a stern look, immediately shutting him up. “I do thank you. I can’t imagine what would have happened had that thing gotten loose in the city…” Something about her generosity of spirit, in contrast to her cousin’s effusive praise, works on the hardened Naut Captain softening him further. He stammers, “Follow me.”

Leading them past the broken ship and up some stairs to the left, a majestic ship climbs over the dock, towering over them. "Madam, Gentlemen!" Vasco gestures proudly at the Sea Horse, the largest ship docked at the port. It is a sight, decked with several crows' nests and hundreds of yards of sail waiting to be hoisted. Vasco inhales the scent of the sea on the breeze, eager to be back aboard and at the helm.

Constantin, apparently able to contain himself no more, dashes up the gangplank without a word, spinning like a pinwheel with his arms outstretched on deck, laughing and cheering while taking it all in.

"Your cousin's enthusiasm..." Vasco turns from where Constantin basks in his moment of joy, and is taken off guard by Elizabeth, her face still flushed from exertion, several loose strands of hair framing her face, "is most impressive." Even covered in dust and splinters of wood, she is captivating. He nearly reaches out to pull a splinter of wood from her hair but crosses his arms behind his back instead catching a look from Kurt.

"This journey is his long-awaited chance to prove his worth."

"More likely, he's just happy to be free of this hornet's nest." Kurt takes a look around back at the city they are leaving behind.

"Perhaps.” Elizabeth nods her head and steps deftly around Captain Vasco to take the gangplank without looking back.

Her loyal guard follows and casts a look back over his shoulder at the Captain before rising to the deck.

Captain Vasco boards last and begins to shout instructions to the crew. Once the mainsail has been hoisted, he gives a bit of a show for his passengers. "Stations, lads! Weigh anchor and ready her to wear! Lively now! Lively! Catch me a wind!"

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

"Captain?" Elizabeth approaches the Captain from behind, fatigue wearing on her. Though she is unsure how much is from the engagements of the day and how much is from what happened on the docks just before setting sail.

She glances at Kurt, the memory of her hands twisted in his doublet, his hands gripping her arms tightly still rushing through her like a waterfall cascading over the hurdles in her mind. In spite of the burden of relying on him so heavily, she knows it is the force of his gravity that tethered her to the moment, that held back the flood.

"Yes, madam? Can I do anything for you?"

Enough of being called madam. "Yes. You can start by calling me Lady de Sardet. And then you could perhaps have someone show us our quarters?"

“Allow me.” Vasco gestures towards the stern and leads them through the portside hatch and down a spiral staircase, which ends at a hall with four large ornately carved doors, two on each side, leading to an open dining area in the back. He stops and opens the first door on the starboard side motioning her in. "Retiring so early?" he asks, eyes cast slightly down at the floor.

Peering inside the dimly lit room, she recognizes the few chests as her own. Then she turns back to the captain, and, slightly amused, says "I doubt Constantin will sleep for days, but I’m beginning to feel under the weather. And I would also appreciate a chance to freshen up." She gestures at the state of her jacket and pants.

Constantin looks to Vasco who gestures at the first door on the portside.

"I'll just leave you to it, then. If you’re feeling up to it, I would love to have dinner with you and your companions in the parlor." Vasco nods toward the area at the back of the ship, then turns and climbs the stairs leaving his passengers to discover their quarters.

Sir de Courcillon, looking rather gray, opens the far door on the starboard side, glancing around at the space. He steps back and closes the door, crossing to the other side where he finds his cabin and says, "I think I shall retire early, in fact. I’m beginning to feel under the weather myself. But please go and celebrate and do not give me a second thought. Good evening," he nods at his fellow passengers. Exhausted, they all nod in return and enter their own cabins.

Each cabin is decorated essentially the same. Immediately to the left of Elizabeth’s door is a large wardrobe and to the right a washstand which holds a basin and pitcher and a mirror with hooks on each side. In the middle of the room, on the shared wall is a moderately sized bed with lavish linens and coverings in rich colorful tones. The furnishings are all decorated to match with beautifully carved motifs. Beyond each bed is a row of tall windows adorned with heavy floor length drapes, which are quite effective at blocking out light, and which fall behind a small desk and chair. Near the wall past the foot of the bed is a small bucket style bathtub.

Elizabeth walks directly to the back of the room and opens the drapes to let the late afternoon sun rush in. It warms her as she peers out of the windows at the endless blue beyond the balcony that appears to wrap around the entire back end of the ship. Immediately she imagines spending time out there reading.

Knowing Kurt is right next door, their rooms connected by their own shared balcony, gives her strength. More than that, it gives her hope. Hope that he will cross the line he has drawn between them. Or at least allow her to break down the walls and close the distance separating them.

Slipping her hand into the pocket of her coat, she pulls out the pendant her mother gave her. She traces her finger over the design with curiosity for a moment before moving to the other side of the room and placing it away in a trunk for safe keeping. The thought of her mother still painful, but now in a dull, aching way.

At the washstand, she looks at herself in the mirror, bits of wood splinters in her hair and dust all over her face and clothes and realizes how much she can actually use a little time to freshen up. She finds fresh water in the pitcher and pours some into the basin. She first lets her hair down and runs her fingers through it while carefully removing the bits of twig and splinters, trying not to think about the creature, or the way the light went out of its eyes.

She takes a cloth, dips it in the water, and begins to work the dust off her face. Her fingers trace the lines of the birthmark on her cheek. She tries to ignore it but often finds herself doing this without realizing it. A compulsion she picked up when she was very young and fending off looks and whispers in court.

Suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea, Elizabeth drops the cloth to the floor and runs out to the balcony to breathe in the fresh air and to lose her breakfast over the railing if it comes to that. Salty sea air blows her hair around her face, and against her lips, she breathes in deeply and waits for her stomach to settle.

~Kurt~

Kurt is immediately uncomfortable in his quarters. His accommodations in the palace were far from shabby, but this is too much for a man of such simple needs. However, he has to admit that it is more the proximity to Elizabeth that has him feeling uneasy. Pacing left and right between the cousins’ rooms in the palace during his watch was one thing. Sleeping right next door to her for the next two months is quite another.

Flustered, Kurt thinks back to the way Captain Vasco looked at Elizabeth before they boarded. He hates feeling jealous over a woman who will never be his but finds it impossible to stop himself. The day has been long and full of complications and difficult tasks, and he would like nothing more than to relax a while, but he cannot bear to think about leaving Elizabeth alone with that Captain and Constantin on their first night aboard ship. Constantin might be all right, even if exhausting, but the Captain…

Hearing the sound of a door and footsteps outside, he moves to the windows and nudges the drapes aside, he is struck by the sight of Elizabeth in the warm afternoon sun, her hair loose and blowing around her in the breeze. Drawing the drapes open to find the balcony door, which he discovers, is on the far right, he moves to the door and takes a breath before pressing down on the handle to open it, stepping outside. When she turns to look in his direction, she smiles softly but he can see that her face is slightly pale and glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

Moving closer to her, his hand hovers over her back, not knowing if he should touch her. “Greenblood? You feeling okay?”

“No, Kurt, I am not. The damn rocking of this ship...”

“Seasickness? Okay, look straight out at the horizon, even if the ship is bouncing around, the horizon is always still. Just focus on it. And breathe in the fresh air, deep breaths. If you have any mints, it might help.”

“I think I have a few…in one of the chests,” she says pointing over her shoulder at her room. “Um, there’s a box with some chocolates, if you would be so kind…”

He nods and hesitantly enters her cabin. As uncomfortable as he is at the idea of sleeping next door to her, the idea of rummaging through her things in her cabin leaves him feeling unnerved. First, he picks up the cloth from the floor and drops it into the small bucket tub before picking up a clean one and dipping it into the water and wringing it out. Then he opens the first chest, which looks to contain nothing but suits. In the next, he mercifully finds a box on top, which he opens to discover is exactly what he’s looking for. Pulling his gloves off and tucking them under his arm, he digs through the contents and grabs several mints slipping them into a fine mesh bag before heading back out to Elizabeth.

Offering her a mint with one hand, he places the cool damp cloth on the back of her neck and tentatively strokes her back. She takes the mint and quickly pops it into her mouth, still taking slow deep breaths, allowing his hand to rest softly on her back.

“Keep watching the horizon…” They stand in silence, Kurt keeping a close eye on her, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the hull.

“Kurt, you should check in on Constantin. I’ll be fine.”

He nods and begins to back away. “Sure, I’ll do that.”

Turning, he decides to make his way to the other side by way of the balcony rather than going back inside. As he comes round the back of the ship, he notices double doors to his right that open into the parlor. Then the sound of Sir de Courcillon and Constantin both heaving hit him. Rounding the corner, he sees the schoolteacher draped over the rail and Constantin sliding down the railing and lying down on the balcony.

Sighing, Kurt steps around Sir de Courcillon and moves over to Constantin, taking his arm and helping him stand. He gives each one of them a mint with the same advice he gave to Elizabeth. Just before he leaves them to return to her side, he says, “Be careful and don’t fall overboard…”

As he walks back around the balcony, rounding the corner he spots her looking slightly better. Her skin flushed. Watching her hair blow around her face, he takes a sudden breath, which catches her attention. “Feeling a little better?”

She glances back to the horizon; eyes watching intently as the ship dips and rises against the sea. “Yes, thank you.” Then, nearly accusing, “How is it you seem fine?”

“I don’t know, Greenblood. But it’s not my first time at sea. The first time is the hardest.”

“Is it going to be like this the whole time?” her voice pleads.

“I hope not. Some people get used to it and others never do.”

She groans at the uncertainty in his answer.

“I know that you probably want to forget it, but if you need to talk about what happened back there on the dock…I’m right here. And I’ve been there.”

When she reaches out and places a hand on his arm, a warm feeling rushes through him and the last of his walls collapse in on themselves. He wants to touch her hand, caress her fingers, but he stops himself. Instead, he drops the bag of mints in her hand watching as she slips them into her pocket. Smiling comfortingly, he backs away and slips through the door into his cabin allowing the door to close softly behind him.

Grabbing his gloves and tossing them on his trunk before stripping off his boots and his uniform, he hangs his haggard hat on a hook and begins to clean up. Fingering the scars that mar his nose and run through his eyebrow, he wonders if Elizabeth could ever see him as anything more than the mercenary he is. That hand on his arm, the lingering heat, sends mixed signals to his brain. He sighs deeply, running his fingers through his hair.

Impossible.

Opening his trunk, he pulls out a change of clothes, and steps up to the washbasin to clean up before pulling on clean clothes, slipping back into his colors, the blue and silver Serene uniform. He could wear a Captain’s uniform, but he never felt comfortable in it. Once they reach New Serene, he will have to play the part, look the part while standing beside the legate of the Congregation. For now, though, he can get away with the simplicity. Try not to stand out too much among the Nauts or be intimidating.

He hears Elizabeth’s balcony door close, and he turns towards the new wall between them for a moment before he leaves his cabin. He spots Jonas passing through a door at the far end of the hall and calls out, “Jonas?”

The young man’s head snaps up. “Yes, Sir?”

Kurt laughs and shakes his head. “It’s just Kurt. But can you do something for me?”

“Of course, sir…Kurt.”

“Just let the Captain know that all of his passengers are down with seasickness and won’t be up to entertaining this evening.”

Jonas nods his head. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.”

After the cabin boy takes the stairs up, Kurt wanders back down the hall and to the parlor. The room contains a few distractions. In the middle is an ornately carved mahogany dining table surrounded by six ornately carved chairs. To the right is a billiards table with a blue liner and blue leather trim with silver embellishments. He lifts one of the balls from a pocket and notes they are decorated with a scrolling pattern. On the foreward wall, a blue and black dartboard that matches the scrolling pattern hangs, several darts collect in recessed cups.

On the starboard side near the foreward wall, he sees a small but beautiful pianoforte, which seems a bit extravagant even for a ship such as this. Lifting the fallboard, he notes the keys are also decorated with the same scroll pattern. He randomly presses a few keys before lowering the cover back down. Along the wall on this side are several mahogany bookcases, the shelves full of what look to be expensive books. He opens one of the drawers below the shelves of books and finds cards, dice and other diversions.

“Pardon…but we haven’t yet been formally introduced.” A genteel voice that could only belong to their Captain rings out from his left.

He turns to look the man directly in the eye. “Kurt. Coin Guard Captain. Former Master of Arms.”

“Captain Vasco, sea-given.” He nods his head respectfully. “Jonas delivered your message. I hope your fellow passengers are not too under the weather.”

Wondering if the Captain came all the way down here himself to weigh and measure him, Kurt stands at attention, one arm behind his back, the other dropped to his side. “Too soon to tell.”

“Well, in that case, let me know when they’ve recovered. It usually doesn’t last more than a day or two.”

“Will do, Sailor.”

Vasco nods again. “Captain,” he says with a smile before turning on his heel and heading for the stairs.

After he leaves, Kurt begins to look at the various books. There are nautical histories. Some books with illustrations and descriptions of marine animals. Almanacs and books on stars. An entire collection of Shakespeare. Most of the books seem to be collections of poetry. He reads the names of some of the authors, Fontaine, Marlowe, Milton, Molière, Perrault, as he walks down the length of the bookcase, bumping into a reading chair placed at the end of the room by the balcony doors.

The man reads. A lot. That much is certain. Kurt reads and he is familiar with some of the books, but he never had the time to keep up with Elizabeth’s appetite for reading. He picks up the copy of Faustus at random and carries it with him to his cabin.

For a while, he relaxes in his bed and tries to read but his thoughts drift back to Elizabeth. She seemed to brush off his concern about the creature on the dock, but he also saw the look in her eyes, the paleness of her skin. The way she gripped his doublet in her hands. No matter how she tries to ignore it, those feelings are not going away.

Standing, he drops the book on the bed and decides he should check on Constantin so he exits his room and wanders through the parlor opening the balcony doors. Walking around the side of the ship and finding the balcony abandoned, he knocks on Constantin’s door.

“Entre,” the sullen and weak voice says.

He opens the door to find Constantin lying on the bed, head over the side, dry heaving into a bucket. “I told you to keep your eye on the horizon.”

“Well, when have I ever listened to you, Kurt?”

A soft laugh escapes him, and he gives Constantin a sympathetic look. “Fair point. I suppose I’ll leave you to it.”

He leaves by the balcony and knocks on the schoolteacher’s door, but the man just moans and asks to be left alone so he continues around the back of the ship to the starboard side. Slowly approaching the balcony door to Elizabeth’s room, Kurt is careful not to catch her in a delicate moment. He knocks softly on her door and hears her answer, the nobility shed away, voice soft and honeyed.

“Enter.”

He opens the door but remains on the balcony. “How about a little fresh air, Greenblood?”

She nods and stands making her way out the door where he moves aside to allow her to pass. She slides down the side of the ship and rests, watching the horizon as she pats the spot next to her.

Kurt moves over and takes a seat no closer than he feels is appropriate. He pulls his right knee up, resting his elbow on it. His other hand resting on the balcony floor, he watches as her hand inches closer, stopping just as their fingers touch. He swallows and looks out, watching as the veil of night slips up and over the horizon, the sea a black abyss. Despite his feeling that he’s allowing himself to feel and think things he knows he would be better off forgetting, knowing he should pull his hand away, he holds and wonders if they could have a life together.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt wakes early, more rested and content than he can remember ever feeling before. The rising sun streams through his windows, casting dancing shadows around his room as the ship bobs over the waves. He runs his hands over his face and through his hair, pushing the loose waves off of his forehead, still thinking about sitting next to Elizabeth, watching night fall over them, her fingers reaching out for his. Doubts plague him and likely always will, but, for the first time ever, he wakes with thoughts of possibility. Possibilities he thought impossible unfurling in his mind.

Pulling out a simple pair of blue pants and a white shirt, and grabbing a towel and a bar of soap, he finds his way down to the baths, preferring the larger tubs to the small bucket tub in his room. Fortunately, the baths are vacant at this time of day, and he has a certain amount of privacy when he undresses and quickly sinks under the water, running his fingers through his hair and slicking it back over his head as he rises back over the surface. As he lathers the soap, he watches as a few crew pass by headed out to start their day. After washing his hair and skin quickly, he listens and waits for the sound of anyone coming, climbing from the tub, toweling off and with his skin still damp throwing on his clothes, which stick to him as he walks back up and through the mess to his cabin.

Inside, Kurt finds a tray of food sitting on the single trunk in his room. Lifting the cover, he happily discovers eggs, hash browns and bacon, and a mug of orange juice, which he practically inhales before setting the tray aside.

He hesitates before dropping his soiled laundry down the open chute. Constantin had all but ordered him to but he still feels awkward. Letting go, he watches as the clothes disappear down the chute before opening his wardrobe and pulling out a light gray quilted gambeson, slipping it on and fastening the buckles down the middle of his chest. Assessing himself in the mirror, he runs his hands over his stubble and decides it’s not yet in need of a trim. He glances up at his hat but leaves it on the hook where he hung it last night, running his hand through his damp hair.

Sounds in the cabin next door catch his attention and he picks up the empty tray and quickly slips out the door and down the hall through the mess to the kitchen. A large man who calls himself Solomon takes the tray from his hands.

“You didn’t have to do that; Jonas will be roundin’ up all the trays soon enough.”

“I came down to see about bath water.”

The man looks at his damp hair with his brows raised.

Kurt chuckles at him. “Not for me. For Lady de Sardet.”

“I’ll send the boy down with some.”

“Thank you. And there’s no need to bring food for me. I’ll be down for meals with the crew from now on, if that’s okay.”

Solomon claps him on the back and nods, turning back to the wash.

Kurt treks back to his cabin and picks up the book he borrowed the night before, relaxing on the bed and reading between intruding thoughts of soft skin, long flowing hair, and a pair of sea blue eyes.

~Elizabeth~

In the morning, Elizabeth wakes feeling rested. Nausea gone; she finds she is starving. Sitting up she sees a service sitting just inside her door. She rises from the bed and nearly sprints over, pulling the cart back to the bed behind her. As she sits at the edge of the bed, she notices a paper rolled up, tied with string and left to the side. Upon opening it, she discovers a note.

Lady de Sardet,

I was deeply sorry to hear that you’re feeling under the weather. I hope it won’t last long and we can have that dinner soon.

Regards,
Captain Vasco

As she lifts the cover, the aroma of eggs, bacon and potatoes wafts out under her nose. With no one to watch her, she picks up the bacon, still warm, with her fingers and takes a bite, savoring the way it melts on her tongue. The eggs are light and fluffy and sprinkled with just enough pepper and the potatoes are cut in a way she has never seen before, tiny thin strips, crispy and delicious. She tears through the meal, washing it down with the mug of orange juice. Once finished, she places the cover back over the tray and pushes the service back where she found it by the door before slipping the note into the top drawer of the wardrobe.

Turning, she marches over to the trunks taking up so much space and begins to unpack them into the wardrobe until every last waistcoat and shirt is gently rocking on a hanger, and every pair of pants is folded perfectly in a drawer. The strange medallion placed in the top drawer next to the rolled note.

Just as she pushes the box of chocolates into the bottom of the wardrobe, she hears a knock at the door and opens it to find Jonas with two buckets of water for a bath. “Jonas, thank you!”

He smiles but shakes his head. “You’re welcome, but it wasn’t me. Your friend, Kurt, asked for me to fetch it for you.”

Pushing the service tray out, she takes the buckets and thanks him again before closing and locking the door while silently thanking Kurt. Her loyal guard. Her protector. Always one step ahead of her.

At the washstand, she opens the drawer where she left her small bag of toiletries, picking up her soap, an herbal blend her mother used before...she pauses at the thought of her mother. Shaking it off, she sighs, and, with a sniff, lifts a towel from the bottom shelf of the washstand.

Even with hardly enough water to wash her hair, she is determined to try. Instead of dumping either bucket into the tub, she gets down on her knees and bends over one bucket, getting her hair wet, then lathers the hair wash into it before rinsing it first in one and then in the other bucket squeezing the excess water from her hair. After that, she pours both into the tub and sits with her hair wrapped in a towel while she washes away the grime from the previous day, enjoying the feeling of getting clean. Finally, pulling the plug, she stands and lets her hair down before wrapping herself in the towel.

Crossing the room, she reaches into the wardrobe and pulls out the first jacket her hand happens to touch. Emerald green brocade. Unadorned but finely tailored, flattering in all the right places and complements her blue eyes. After choosing an ivory-colored shirt, she slips the bottom drawer open and pulls out a pair of beige pants. The small mirror on the washstand, partially blocked by the basin and pitcher, does little to give her an idea of how she looks. Shrugging, she runs her fingers through her hair and leaves it down to dry.

It is the usual attire neither for the daughter of a princess nor for an ambassador, but she has never cared much for those expectations. When she was younger, they tried to dress her up like a little princess herself but soon found it easier to let her be. She has a few fancy dresses in the trunks in the hold of the ship, a necessity for the occasional ball. However, spending the bulk of her time playing rough with Constantin and then training with Kurt, she had no patience for skirts. Hers or her governesses'.

It may be a practicality, but Kurt seems to prefer her in a suit over a skirt. The one time she had worn a skirt to one of their training sessions, he had sent her back to change. “You can’t learn to defend yourself with all of this…fabric getting in the way, Greenblood!” his voice says in her head. Her plan to catch his eye immediately thwarted.

She laughs softly at the memory, gently wiping her face clean with a fresh cloth, picking up the one she used last night and dropping both down the laundry chute next to the wardrobe followed by her soiled clothes. Suddenly, she finds herself grateful that Constantin had insisted on bringing a laundress, who he had paid handsomely to relocate to the island.

Her thoughts drift back to Kurt and watching the sky darken and the stars appear with him beside her, their fingers just barely touching. It may mean nothing, but he left his hand to rest next to hers without pulling away. Whatever the reason for it, the distance that had grown between them the previous morning is all but gone, washed away with the ebbing of the tide.

She reaches her hand out nervously, still terrified that he might reject her, but determined to find out, and steps out of her cabin door colliding with her loyal guard who had just stepped out of his own cabin.

"Greenblood!" he stammers, dropping the book in his hand, "My apologies. I should have been more careful," he mutters, looking flushed and nervous suddenly.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrow at this sudden reaction in him as they both reach down at the same time to pick up the book and their heads knock hard against one another. Her hand reaches up to her forehead and rubs at it before sweeping a strand of hair that has fallen over her eyes behind her ear and brushing the birthmark on her cheek. As her fingers grasp the book, his hand closes over hers and they freeze for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, until she slowly pulls her hand away. The feeling of his fingers touching hers, the warmth and the pulse, stay with her.

"Are you alright, Excellency?" his voice concerned, restrained.

“Yes,” she mutters, thinking about his hand making circles in the middle of her back. She was feeling so awful at the time that it barely registered as anything but comfort.

Kurt has always seemed to have an aversion to touching her, avoiding it at all costs. Other men were always looking for an excuse to touch her, but not him. When they did somehow touch, he was quick to pull away, to retreat. But here he is changed; softer and getting closer than he ever dared before.

Standing, she takes in the sight before her, Kurt in a simple, quilted gray gambeson, no bulky armor, closely fitted and revealing his lean and muscular form. Signature hat left behind; his hair lays in soft curls and waves over his head. Tempted to reach up and run her fingers through it, she instead tilts the book in his hand to read the title. “Faustus? How did you like it?”

He shakes his head “I didn’t,” he replies dropping the hand with the book to his side.

“A story of a man who seeks power through magic and trickery? I’m not surprised. You’ve never cared for the use of magic.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs. “It’s just that I've always found that magic…lacks honor. But it is effective I suppose.”

She laughs softly. “How fortunate for me then that I was trained by a man of honor.”

He lowers his voice and moves in closer, staring into her eyes. "You have always been extraordinary. You have a rare talent, Greenblood. Something that's hard to pin down."

Holding her position, daring him to move, gesturing at the book in his hand, she asks, "Do you believe a man should strive for more than his station merits?” She takes the book, grazing his hand with her fingers.

His face contorts and he looks down at his feet, but he holds. “Your Excellency, it hardly matters what I believe.”

“Kurt,” she begins, tucking the stubborn strand of hair behind her ear again, “the true way is the middle one, halfway between deserving a place and pushing oneself into it.”

Turning, she takes the book to the parlor, scanning the shelf until she finds the open spot where the book belongs before sliding it in, feeling that satisfactory pull. Her fingers slip over the rows of raised bindings, feeling the titles and decorative scrolling under her fingertips. When she reaches the large collection of works by Shakespeare, she pulls out a volume and opens it, thumbing quietly through the pages.

Familiar steps announce Kurt’s approach from behind her. She snaps the book closed and turns to him, reaching the book out towards him and slipping it into his hands.

“Titus Andronicus…” he reads the title aloud from the binding and then glances up, looking into her eyes.

“It’s about honor.”

~Kurt~

Kurt watches Elizabeth as she passes by, close enough that her hand grazes his, and climbs the stairs alone. He glances back down at the book she placed in his hands. Shakespeare. His brows lower and his lips form a flat line. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she is simply toying with him. Asking such questions, making such statements. He knows his place. Always has. Always will.

Returning to his room, he drops the book on his bed, standing frozen, unsure of himself, unsure of her, unsure of everything he thought was happening. Was she forewarning him to mind his place? Or was she encouraging him to step outside of his station? Perhaps it was nothing but small talk. Impossible to know for sure without asking, which is far more impossible.

He looks around and sighs. Staying here solves nothing. Instead, he composes himself, breathing deeply, and walks briskly out the door and up the stairs to the deck. He hears Constantin before he sees him, having a one-sided conversation with Captain Vasco.

Elizabeth stands before Kurt, blocking his way and his view. He only now notices how striking she is in the deep green jacket, distinct for its lack of embellishment, allowing the way it hugs the contours of her body to show off the expert tailoring. Her hair blows gently around her face, still damp and cascading over her shoulders. Risking enough to be hesitant, he reaches out and slips his fingers over a single lock of hair, curling around a finger as smooth as cornsilk, before pulling his hand back to his side.

She turns her head and stares at him, a smile curling up the corners of her mouth and he finds he cannot help himself but smile back. As she moves aside to allow him to pass, he finally catches up on the conversation taking place between Constantin and the Captain.

“Now that our bout of sea sickness has passed, Captain Vasco, I would be delighted to take you up on your invitation to dine with you.”

“Of course. I’ll be sure to have the cook prepare something special tonight, your Highness.”

“You honor me, sir. I thank you.” Constantin bows and passes by them with a mischievous grin disappearing through the hatch behind them.

Vasco glances in their direction. “Oh, Lady de Sardet, and Captain Kurt, I hope that tonight agrees with you?”

“Of course. Thank you, Captain.”

Kurt nods at the Captain and watches as Elizabeth walks over to the starboard side of the deck, following behind her. He takes up a position to her left, leaning in on the railing, stealing glances at her while they stand together in silence.

“Kurt, you no longer have to babysit me. I’m perfectly safe.”

“Greenblood, I don’t pretend to know what you’re thinking. The fact is, I rarely do know what to make of you. I’m not here as your guard but I’ll leave if it pleases you.”

When she says nothing, he nods and turns to walk away.

“I don’t want you to go. I just…don’t want you hanging about out of duty. If you’re going to be here, let it be with intent.”

He turns back to the railing, gripping it tightly in his hands, focusing on the vast expanse of blue stretching out before him. “Understood, your Excellency,” he quips playfully, tauntingly throwing her title at her. From the corner of his eye he sees a small smirk flit across her face.

“He’s a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies, ‘tis stabbing.”

“I assume that’s from some book you read.”

“Oh, ‘tis certain, Sir. Shakespeare. Othello.”

“Edify me, Excellency.”

She smiles at his choice of words. “Desdemona, the wife of Othello, asks where Lieutenant Cassio lies. And the jester replies that he dares not say he lies anywhere, that to accuse a soldier of lying is akin to stabbing him.”

She glances over at him, a serious look on her face. After a somber moment, they both break and laugh heartily.

Kurt feels the smile fixed on his face. “Clever. But not untrue. As a soldier, I have naught but my good name.”

“No one could ever accuse you of lacking honor, Kurt,” she says, gently brushing his hand with hers as she turns and enters the starboard hatch, ducking below deck.

He glances over his shoulder catching Captain Vasco eyeing him closely. Unwilling to be a subject of the man’s scrutiny, Kurt passes to the portside hatch and takes the stairs down below. At the bottom, Elizabeth is nowhere to be seen so he enters his cabin and settles into his bed reading the book she chose for him, recalling her words, “It’s about honor.”

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

The sound of Constantin's boisterous laughter fills the entire space; from the hall outside her door to the balcony beyond her windows, rousing her from the dream she was rather enjoying. Kurt, always Kurt, kissing her mouth, his fingers digging into her flesh and holding her close. Sweeping her up and carrying her to his bed, pressing himself down against her. Her cousin has the worst timing. She picks up a pillow and flings it with a grunt across the room in frustration.

Looking out the windows, she sees that the sky is starting to darken. Pulling herself up out of the bed, she walks to the washstand and slowly twists her hair, pinning it up loosely off her shoulders, a few wispy flyaways framing her face. She pulls her boots on and laces them up before stepping out of her door.

Down the hall, Constantin has a party in full swing though the guest list is short. As she enters the parlor, he offers Elizabeth a large mug of ale. She seats herself directly across the table from Kurt, taking the pint though she is not particularly in the drinking mood. Still, liquid courage being what it is, she begins to drink it down quickly, attempting to catch up with the men who have been drinking for some time now, while listening to her cousin’s stories, and he takes the mug and refills it for her when she’s finished.

Constantin quickly returns to the story of his recent kidnapping and subsequent rescue and the comeuppance his captors rightly deserved with Kurt breaking in to set the story straight when he stretches the truth.

“Your Highness, that’s not exactly how it happened, as you’re well aware.”

“Kurt, let me tell it my way!”

Kurt motions for him to continue, shaking his head. But Captain Vasco shows great interest, oohing and awwing in all the right places, gratifying the young governor.

He follows with stories of their other exploits. The time he climbed the palace walls to be rescued by his fair cousin. Dragging the Coin Guard Captain outside the city walls to get out of the stuffy and stagnant air. And the time they snuck out of the palace and were caught by Kurt before they made it past the terrace.

“And there is Kurt, standing by the fountain, arms crossed, and his head cocked…just like that!” Constantin exclaims pointing at him across the table. “Greenblood, what do you think you’re doing? And you! Dragging her out into the city at night?!” Constantin says in a mocking imitation of Kurt’s voice.

“I was doing my job, which you never made easy. And I never reported that little escapade to your parents. But the look on your faces when you rounded that fountain…” he leans back in his chair with a smug smile.

“You got lucky that time.”

Kurt gives Constantin a sharp look. “You never explained to me how you snuck out the night before your kidnapping.

“And I never shall.”

Kurt shakes his head and turns to the man to his right instead. "So, Captain Vasco, how did you become a Naut?"

Vasco’s brows furrow and his mouth twists into a frown. In a pained voice, he answers, "I was given to the Nauts when I was just an infant. I think I was originally from the Congregation, but I have no memory of my family. I took my first steps on the deck of a ship. That's all I remember."

"But the Nauts are your family now?" Elizabeth asks, attempting to find a subject that he is more comfortable with and Vasco smiles warmly at her, sending a strange new sensation through her.

"Yes. For as long as I can remember, this ragtag crew has been my family. How long have the three of you known each other?"

Constantin takes her empty mug and refills it to the brim again, handing it back to her. She nods in thanks but does not feel it, sipping slower now.

"Constantin is my cousin, of course," she smiles in his direction as he raises his drink to her and she returns in kind, "so we've known each other our entire lives." She hesitates a moment before broaching the subject of her master of arms, trying to be careful with her words and her body language, not only in front of the inquisitive ship's Captain but also the loyal Captain of the Guard, himself. "And Kurt, well he became our Master of Arms when we were about…ten years old. Must have been quite unpleasant taking on two spoiled greenhorns." She looks in his direction, curious what he might have to say in response.

"I suppose I'm only speaking for myself here, but it hasn't been that unpleasant, Greenblood," he says resolutely, fixated with an intense look. Looking down at his pint of ale, he suddenly has that same flushed face from earlier.

Jonas knocks and enters with the service tray, distracting them from their conversation, setting a plate of grilled fish and vegetables and a baked potato before each occupied place, a large platter of rolls taking up the center of the table. “Thank you, Jonas,” Vasco says before raising his mug in a toast. “To a safe and enjoyable journey across the sea.”

“Hear, hear!” Constantin cries out finishing his pint and standing to refill it from the barrel before stumbling back to his seat next to Elizabeth.

While her cousin digs into his meal, practically inhaling it, Elizabeth falls into her training, carefully cutting and picking up each tiny bite, only using her fingers to eat a roll she had quietly taken from the stack, nervously drinking wine between each bite. Before she can finish her meal, she finishes her second glass and finds her head is spinning from drink. Pushing her half-empty plate away, she leans in on her elbows, suddenly caring a lot less about etiquette.

She looks up to see Vasco watching her with one eyebrow raised before he stands and pulls a bell rope she only now notices on the far side of the doors, the corresponding ring coming from the kitchen. In a moment, Jonas returns and collects their empty plates and takes them away down the hall and into the mess.

Constantin inspecting his billiards table captures the Captain’s attention and the two become distracted with a game. Elizabeth watches them curiously, continuing to drink her third pint, as the two men seem to be handling each other more than the balls on the table. When the Captain pushes Constantin into a very compromising position over the table, stepping up behind him and leaning in close, she focuses her gaze on Kurt instead.

Kurt sits across from her, watching her working on her third pint, his eyebrows raised. She scoffs, he is on at least his fourth pint and nearly finished by the looks of it, tipping it all the way up and setting it back on the table some distance away. His eyes never leave hers as he reaches for the wine bottle in the middle of the table and pours a glass sliding it to her across the table, his fingers grazing hers as he takes the mug of ale from her hand.

Raising the glass of wine to her lips, she watches as he begins to finish her pint. She sits the glass on the table, dipping her finger into the wine and sliding it around the rim creating a soft ringing tone. Kurt smirks at her, placing the empty mug before him on the table. She lifts the glass and finishes it before pouring herself another, watching to see if Kurt will try to stop her.

The look in his eyes is the same as the one in her dreams and she can almost feel his hands on her, pulling her close, pushing her down into the bed beneath him, his lips brushing hers, breath hot on her neck. She gasps and lifts the glass to her lips, trying to hide the blush in her cheeks.

Breaking eye contact, she glances to her left, through the open balcony doors, returns her glass to the table and rises, or at least she tries, but her legs seem to suddenly be made of rubber and she ends up on her arse on the floor. She then feels two strong, but gentle, hands slide under her arms, lifting her and by her ear a soft and low voice.

“Come, your Excellency.”

Kurt’s breath on her neck is intimate and alluring, thrusting her back into the lingering feelings from her dream. She suddenly feels a strong urge to turn into his arms and kiss the man. Indelicate, but effective. If she kisses him and he still pushes her away, she will finally have her answer. But she will have to drink a lot more wine to reach the point where she could seriously entertain such a thing.

Now on her feet, she pulls against Kurt who seems insistent on dragging her backwards. She raises her hand and points out the doors. “Kurt, I want to be out there.”

“Hanging over the freezing water? I don’t think so, your Excellency.”

Vasco pipes up from across the room waving them towards the doors. “Oh, the railings are far too tall for anyone to fall in.”

Elizabeth turns her head to look into Kurt’s face, she sighs for a moment at the color and depth of his eyes, like blue steel, closer than she has ever seen them before. “You heard the man. I’m going and you can’t stop me.” She laughs and starts moving in that direction forcing Kurt to help and follow her.

“Oh, I definitely could,” he growls lowly near her ear, “but I think I want to keep my job.”

Out on the balcony, she tries to climb on the bottom rail and Kurt immediately pulls her back down by her waistcoat shaking his head. “If you want to stay out here, you’ll have to keep your feet on the deck at all times. Otherwise, we will find out if I can stop you. Your Excellency.”

She huffs but puts both feet back on the floor, leaning into the railing, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze on her face and neck. Out in the distance she sees a large animal rise to the surface, a mist of droplets flying as it takes a breath, tail slapping and creating a spray of water. She points excitedly and looks at Kurt who smiles down at her with a lopsided grin. She looks back out to the whale, watching until it disappears for good.

Before long, the cooled air seeps through her jacket chilling her, and she shivers against the cold wanting to lean into Kurt’s warmth, nearly allowing herself to do so. When he turns her back toward the parlor she follows and sits at the table across from him again, lifting her glass of wine to her lips and drinking it down in two large gulps. As she reaches out for the bottle, Kurt’s hand darts out and pulls it away.

“Excuse me, sir, but I am a grown woman and I want another glass of wine,” she slurs, pointing her finger at her loyal guard.

She watches as he pours her a glass and firmly places the bottle out of her reach crossing his arms. “You do remember that it’s my job to look out for you?”

“Really?” She lifts the glass to her lips and takes a drink before continuing. “Then why is you not stopping Constantin?” she asks accusingly, pointing at the man across the room.

“Because Constantin…”

She interrupts him with a loud scoff, “…is a man? Right? So, he can…drink and have fun and I can’t?”

“I don’t know how to explain this, Greenblood, without being indelicate. It’s not because he’s a man or because you’re a woman. It’s because this ship is full of men I don’t know.”

Vasco’s head snaps up at these comments and he lifts himself off the billiards table and stalks over, their games temporarily forgotten, slapping his hands on the dining table. “Are you trying to imply that my men would take advantage of a woman in her condition?”

“Sorry, Sailor, but that is exactly what I’m implying,” Kurt replies without taking his eyes off her.

The Captain looks at him for a tense moment before breaking out into laughter. “Well, Soldier, I believe you’ll find that a pretty thing like the young Governor over there, is in as much danger of being taken advantage of as any lass on this ship.”

Constantin finally climbs off the billiards table and stumbles over grabbing the wine bottle and tilting the contents down his throat. Speaking too loudly he says, “Captain, I would very much like to see that thing you wanted to show me.” Grabbing the Captain’s collar, he jerks him away from the table, causing him to spin in a semi-circle, and they both stagger down the hall and disappear quickly up the stairs with Constantin still talking too loudly and drinking from the bottle in his hand.

Suddenly realizing what is happening Elizabeth feels her cheeks blush and she lifts the glass to her lips. Left alone with Kurt, she risks a glance at him. There is that intensity again. Suddenly she feels too hot, and she raises her glass, finishing the wine quickly, hoping it will lessen the heat coursing through her. She does a quick mental calculation, at least two full pints of ale and four or five glasses of wine…

“Are you feeling okay, Greenblood?”

She feels warm and fuzzy. "Yes,” she slurs, nodding her head once in an enthusiastic affirmative. Her uncle springs to mind, and she snorts at the thought of him catching her like this. Constantin is the one who always received the harsh looks and the judgment, never her. “Imagine if my uncle were to see me like this?!" She gently tosses her head back and laughs heartily.

"He wouldn't approve, I'm certain, but he's not here, is he?”

“Hmmm…” Slouching just a little, she kicks her feet up in the seat next to him, brushing his knee in the process. He jumps and shifts in his seat but says nothing, still watching her from his side of the table. "Kurt, may I ask you a personal question?"

"You may ask, I may answer."

Again, she laughs heartily and says, “Fair enough.” Quite drunk, her senses are dulled, and she knows that she may not have the courage to say these things later. "I wondered if you ever felt lonely."

"I always do.”

It is the matter-of-fact way he says it that bothers her most. "And here I thought I had kept you good company all these years.”

"You have, Greenblood,” he says with a gentle nod of his head, a soft smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “But you were also my student, my responsibility. And what with your constant attempts to sneak out, that left us little time for friendship.”

"What about now?" Looking deep into his eyes, she is asking more than her words can say.

"Now? I hope we'll have more time."

Elizabeth looks around and gestures towards the balcony and the sea beyond. "We're on a ship. In the middle of the sea. No responsibilities. We have all the time in the world. And I would be remiss if I were the cause of your loneliness."

Leaning forward on his elbows, Kurt lowers his voice and raises his brows. "Why? Do you want to rectify this?"

His tone is husky and sends a shiver through her which she hopes he assumes is due to the cool draft flowing from the open balcony doors and up through the hatch. She thinks about his words for a moment, perhaps a bit indelicate but not at all offensive. Emboldened by her current lack of sobriety she finds the courage to reply, "What if I said yes?" She is almost as surprised as he looks as her mouth forms the words.

Kurt stands and walks to the doors, closing and latching them before returning to his seat across from her. Then, in a moment of chivalry, he finally says "I would say that you're right. We do have all the time in the world. For now, at least." His voice now becomes very soft and gentle. "So slow down. You're far too refined and noble to be making such propositions to a boorish soldier like me."

"Boorish?" she asks incredulously. "How can you say such a thing after such a gentlemanly speech? I know that we take certain liberties with each other sometimes, but you have never once been rude or insensitive. And I know I give as much as I receive. I'm not a delicate flower," she insists, pointing at herself, jabbing the tip of her finger into her chest, punctuating each word.

He shakes his head, laughing. "No, I know you're not. You certainly don't need me around to keep you safe anymore."

She shakes her head, which creates a spinning effect. “That’s not what I meant.” Never dropping eye contact, she stares intensely into his eyes. "I will lose my courage unless I say this now. I only want a chance to get to know you, Kurt. Not as my trainer. Not as my guard. I want to know you." This is all she has wanted for almost as long as she has known him.

"Ah, Greenblood..." a little laugh escapes him. “Do you know why I call you that?"

She smiles mischievously. "Well, I've had my theories, but I wouldn’t want to spoil my fun just yet.” Her finger touches her birthmark lightly, absentmindedly, then falls back to her side.

"Why didn't you ever ask?"

"Because...I was afraid you would stop." With this, she lightly touches his hand, which rests on the table near her arm, a singular but harmless indiscretion, but the intent is there, and she knows they both feel it. She takes a chance, threading her fingers delicately through his, holding for a moment.

Kurt stays his hand for a long moment before he very slowly pulls back, his fingers grazing hers. Standing, he rounds the table, holding his arm out for her to take. Delighted, she stumbles to her feet and takes his arm, her excitement building. She has waited so long for him to make a move, to take her to his bed and do the things he does in her dreams. She can almost feel his mouth on hers, his arms around her, his hands against her skin.

But then they pass by his door, and he leads her directly to her room, Elizabeth flustered, watching as he enters and steps inside to lock her balcony door before retreating out into the hall.

“I wouldn’t want someone stumbling out of her door and over the railing.” He smiles at her before slowly closing the door between them.

Leaning back against the door, nearly breathless, she takes inventory of the things said and unsaid. She has no regrets. Not yet anyway. She crosses to the bed and collapses deep into the mattress, her head spinning. Or maybe the room is spinning. One thing she knows for certain; her world has just spun around her. For so long, she has wanted to tell Kurt how she really feels about him, and she is so close. Tomorrow might bring with it a few feelings of embarrassment and remorse, but, for now at least, she is feeling lighter than air.

Her thoughts wander to her memories of Kurt, landing on a day when they left the city with Sir de Courcillon, her loyal guard following close behind. The day was so nice they could not be content to stay within the palace walls. Constantin, in particular, had been bored to tears pent up inside. So, their teacher proposed something of a field trip if the Prince would approve, which he did with their agreement that their guard would stay close by.

In truth, there wasn't much instruction involved that day. They had walked lazily along the road that led away from the city with no real destination in mind. Constantin was using his sword, attempting to whip the tops off the overgrown blades of grass on the left side of the road with Sir de Courcillon following behind him, telling him to be careful. Elizabeth’s hand softly grazing the velvet grass on her side of the road. Listening for the careful steps trailing behind her.

He is always there.

~Kurt~

That moment where her delicate fingers slipped between his burned forever into his skin, her touch is like fire coursing through his veins, burning up the oxygen in his blood, leaving him breathless, struggling for air. Surviving on the breaths she leaves in her wake.

Leaning his forehead against her door, mouth open and head reeling despite the drink having completely worn off several minutes ago, Kurt rubs his temple and then runs his fingers through his hair, resting his hand on the back of his neck, running through everything said between them. As he walks away, he allows his fingertips to slip softly over the carved surface of her cabin door before entering his own, lighting the lantern that hangs in the middle of the room.

Looking in the washstand mirror, Kurt again inspects the scars on his face. A broken nose, a fractured eye socket, and lacerations given to him by a man he trusted. A man who broke his trust in the worst way possible. Elizabeth deserves someone unbroken, someone whole. Not this shell of a man who recoils from being touched. Afraid to touch her at times, unsure of himself and his boundaries. He has spent so much effort trying to maintain a professional distance. Defining lines he refused to cross. She is no longer his student, but those lines are still there telling him he is everything he hates. For wanting her. For even thinking about her.

And he wants her. Even as some haunted part of him pushes the idea away, he wants her in an indescribable way. Not to satiate a need, but to know her in a way no one else ever has or ever will. To kiss the delicate spiral of vine on her cheek, running his fingers through her hair, holding her close to him, to hear his name whispered on her lips.

Gasping, he takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. This has to stop. This constant torture he puts himself through gets him nowhere. He always circles back around to the damaged hulk of a man he is. Unfit to hold someone like her.

Backing away from his reflection, his calf meets the soft mattress, and he sinks into it, falling back, allowing the bed to catch him, creaking under his weight. Turning his head to his right, he sees his gloves lying on the trunk at the foot of his bed. Reaching over, Kurt fishes around inside the cuff of his left-hand glove pulling out a small white handkerchief with the letters EDS and a wreath of blue and green flowers and vine embroidered on it.

He remembers the day she gave it to him. The nick she gave him bleeding onto his doublet, a red stain spreading over the collar. Her eyes apologetic and concerned, she pulled the handkerchief from her pocket and reached for his face. Her perfect hands too close, he had pulled the handkerchief out of her fingers and turned away, but he had the heart neither to ruin it nor to refuse it and had just stuffed it into his pouch.

She must have been right on the cusp of twenty and she had been remarkable that day. But she always was. Even when he first put a blade in her hand, the young greenhorn, he saw promise in her that he had never seen in anyone else. She quickly developed real skill with a blade and with her steps. She was agile and lightning fast and that was her greatest strength. Both in swordplay and in conversation.

In truth, he began calling her Greenblood because it was such an absurdity. And he continued because she always seemed to rise to the occasion. No matter how hard he was, she never once complained. And she was right. She could give as much as she could take. She truly was extraordinary.

When packing up his few things in the barracks for the voyage, he had found the handkerchief in his footlocker and had stuffed it into his glove before anyone around could notice. He knew full well what assumptions would be made about his carrying such a token. He opens his single trunk and lays the handkerchief lightly on top of the other items closing it and laying back on the bed.

Considering all her new duties and responsibilities, it had seemed to him that there could be no worse time to begin. Still, he had hoped, rather impossibly, that this voyage would give him time to get closer to her. But she was right, as she so often was, they had nothing but time. The thought carries him off to sleep as the ship rocks over the waves.

~Elizabeth~

Morning light steals into her cabin through the unfettered windows causing her to blink against the brightness. Upon waking, her stomach revolts and she jumps up, crashing into the balcony door before she remembers Kurt had locked it. Fighting with it, she gets it thumbed open and rushes out the door and to the railing just in time to toss the remains of her dinner followed by so much more alcohol than she remembered drinking.

She hears a door open and close behind her to the right, soft and slow steps drawing close to her, one hand gently winding into her hair, twisting it up away from her mouth while the other places a cool cloth on her neck.

Elizabeth feels an acute blush rise into her cheeks. She said nothing terrible the night before, but now she is less certain of Kurt's feelings. Unsure of how much was real and how much she might have only hoped for. Though he is here now, as always. She is also slightly surprised by her own sudden needfulness. She is certainly not a delicate flower.

“Greenblood…”

“Please, don’t say I told you so, Kurt. Just let me die in peace.”

Laughing, he speaks softly over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t dream of it, your Excellency.”

“In that case, continue.”

He pulls a skein from over his shoulder and hands it to her. “Drink some water, it will help.”

“Thank you,” she says taking the water and swallowing several large gulps. “I must be a sight.”

“You’re always a sight, Greenblood,” he says softly as he turns and steps through his door and into his cabin.

She pulls the mesh bag from her pocket and slips a mint into her mouth rolling it around on her tongue, Kurt’s words dancing around her thoughts, mingling with her feelings about him. Something is there. In his mind and body and in hers, hanging heavily in the air between them, some burgeoning affection is growing.

When her stomach feels empty and settled, she steps back inside her own cabin, pulling the cool cloth from her neck. As she reaches the washbasin, she takes a look at herself in the mirror over the top of the pitcher. Her hair has come down and locks hang loose around her face. She works on finding the hairpins and removing them one by one before pinning her hair back up into the loose twist.

Noticing she has slept in her waistcoat, and it is now in need of pressing, she puts together an uncomplicated suit, consisting of plain tan pants and a basic jacket in a shade of blue that is almost the same deep-sea blue as her eyes. Fairly ordinary in design but extremely well-tailored, less ostentatious among the Nauts on the ship. She also has Kurt in mind. Not wanting to look too much like nobility. She recalls his insistence the night before that she was too noble for him.

As she steps through her door, she picks up the black hat with the silver white plume and slips it on; pushing her hair up under the seam, hoping it will shield her eyes from the harsh sun. Kurt looks up at her from the table in the parlor where he is kicked back reading a book. Snapping the book closed, he stands and slowly walks toward her, darting into his room and exiting empty handed.

“Feeling better?”

Not feeling better by much, she lies and nods, noting that it looks as if they have had the same idea of dressing down today. In a simple black brigandine without any regiment colors, he cuts quite the dashing figure. And, she notes, he has left his hat behind again, glad to see him without the covering that hides his handsome face for a change. His steel blue eyes flashing at her like the steel he wields.

She feels that he is waiting for her to lead, but she is unable to find the words this morning with such a sober mind. She turns to move toward the stairs, and they reach them at the same time. Always a gentleman, he stops, slightly bowing his head and gestures to her to continue on her way. With her back to him, a smile spreads across her face as she takes the stairs up towards the deck above, her loyal guard following as closely behind as decorum will allow. They climb the stairs together in a comfortable silence, seeing Constantin appear as they reach the Captain's quarters on the way up.

"Captain, I must insist on thanking you for last night's jubilations!" Constantin peals, backing out of the cabin and into Kurt. "Dear cousin! I see the faithful Kurt saw you safely to your cabin last evening, but excuse me, I must procure a bath.” He smiles lasciviously as he strolls down the stairs, whistling as he passes out of sight.

Immediately after, Captain Vasco appears in the doorway, head down and shuffling his feet, dark kohl smudges under his eyes despite the tricorne on his head. When he notices Elizabeth standing on the landing, he raises his head to look at her. “My apologies for disappearing last night. I…uh I’m usually far more professional than that.”

“Not at all Captain. My cousin’s charms are renowned in Serene,” she says in a honeyed voice, smiling despite the pounding in her head.

Vasco shakes his head and smirks as he passes by, dragging himself on deck to the taunts and catcalls of his crew. “Get it out of your system and get to work!”

They hear Vasco still yelling as they exit onto deck. Kurt nods to the captain and wanders away towards the opposite side of the ship. Elizabeth walks a ways to the starboard side, just to the right of where Kurt stands. They are near enough to hold a conversation but not so near that it might capture anyone's attention. The silence is comfortable enough, but she has so many things she would like to say. She takes a deep breath in, inhaling the salty sea.

He speaks first, however, and breaks the silence. "Greenblood, I want to apologize. I should have looked out for you better."

"Kurt," she looks out at the sea, afraid to look into his eyes, "you did look out for me. Like you always do. And I'm grateful." She is thinking of more than the way he protected her from her own stumbling around.

"I've been thinking about what you said last night. About getting to know me better. I realized that I don't know a lot about who you are either. But I would like to."

"I would like that as well." She rests her hands on the railing and gazes far out to sea.

"I'm not sure what there is to tell that you about me that you don't already know."

She looks over at him, watching the way he fidgets nervously with his hands. "What about your family?”

He looks down at his hands, avoiding looking at her. "Don’t have any. Just the bastard child of a couple of guards who never wanted me.”

“You must have had someone who took care of you.” Looking at him, she tilts her head, trying to pull his gaze to her by will alone.

Hesitantly, he opens his mouth, and nothing comes out at first, but then he mutters, “There was a woman, a prostitute who followed the troops."

"Do you remember what she was like?"

Now he glances back at her curiously. "I do remember her. Rose…was her name. Rose Warner. She was kind, a good person. She was the only one who showed me any kind of affection...but that didn't last."

"What happened?"

"As soon as I could wield a wooden sword, I was given a real one and sent to training." Kurt turns and leans back on the railing, his hands clasped across his lean and muscular body, the breeze blowing his hair in gentle waves.

"At such a young age?”

"It's all I had ever known...until I met you,’ he says barely over a whisper as he gazes into her eyes. “Enough about me. You and your mother were very close. What about your uncle?"

"He was always kinder to me than to Constantin, but we’re both little more than pawns where he is concerned. His Governorship and my position as Legate are just…more pieces that he can manipulate," she says softly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Isn't there anyone else who ever showed you any affection?"

“Constantin, of course. I know he can be…a lot, but he’s been there for me when I needed him. And Sir de Courcillon at times has been almost fatherly in a way, but never overly affectionate.”

"And here I thought that life in a palace must be pretty grand."

"I think you probably witnessed almost everything that was good about it. It wasn't all bad. My mother...she always showed Constantin and I more affection than we could want. Maybe to make up for the fact that we had no real peers. The children at court were kind to neither of us." Her fingers again absentmindedly trace the birthmark on her face.

He turns his glance back toward the horizon. "Do you know you do that?"

"Do what” she asks, dropping her hand and looking in his direction.

"When you're thinking about that mark, you trace it with your fingers like you were doing just now."

"Sometimes I do, but other times I find myself doing it without realizing it. Does it bother you?"

"Your mark?” Shaking his head, he answers his own question. “Of course not. It does bother me a bit...that it seems to bother you."

She catches his glance for a moment and is reminded of just why she cares for him. Besides her mother and Constantin, Kurt is the only person she has known who never seemed put off by the strange birthmark she wears on her face. "It isn't that. Not exactly."

"Don't fret, Greenblood," he says, rising from his reclining position and stepping around the rigging. He lightly touches the hand at her side with his as he passes, allowing his fingers to glide across her skin to where it disappears under the sleeve of her coat.

A jolt of lightning traces the lines of her hand, and radiates up the length of her arm, following a sudden salty breath down into the center of her being where it starts a fire within her. And she knows she will never recover. She is hopelessly, and recklessly his. She has always had warm and tender feelings for him, but in this moment, she is sure that she loves him. She feels it in the pit of her stomach, like that jolt of electric fire.

From behind her, the steps of Captain Vasco sound on the percussive deck. She does her best to compose herself and almost believes she is successful. Elizabeth turns to look him in the eye. “Captain, I would like to clear the air. Last night aside, there has been a certain amount of tension between us.”

“My apologies. Nobility has always made me…uncomfortable.”

"I can't say I blame you. Most nobles are tiresome. I know that I made a terrible impression when we met, but I hope I can change that.”

"You have. Please, forgive my manners,” he says, bowing before her.

She nods and smiles kindly. "So, what do you Nauts do with yourselves, Captain, for such long stretches at sea? We've barely begun and I hardly know what to do with myself already."

"Well, the crew tends to stay busy, and they have their own accommodations below deck. The mess hall is down from your cabins, and you will usually find a few of the crew there when they have free time, playing cards, having a drink between meals. On occasion we have music and dancing on deck.“

“Oh, I hope your crew will soon treat us to some music, Captain!”

“I’m sure they would be delighted.”

“And you?”

“In truth, I spend much of my time alone. My duties keep me busy and when I find myself free, I read. I walk the deck. I keep watch on my ship. Life at sea can be monotonous much of the time. But, believe me, you'll prefer that to the excitement the sea can bring."

"Do you think we'll see anything like that?" She is both excited and anxious at the prospect.

"There is always at least one good storm. But, fear not, my ship and my crew will bring us through."

~Kurt~

Kurt watches for a moment as Captain Vasco and Elizabeth speak, out of range to make out what they’re saying, before ducking through the hatch, crossing to the stairs and down to the mess hall. He shuffles to the window and grabs a bowl of porridge, finding an empty table to occupy.

It isn’t until Elizabeth’s weight sinks down next to him that he realizes she has followed him down. “You sure you feel up to eating, Greenblood?”

“I hope I can take a bit of porridge and water, Kurt. I’m starving.”

He feels the heat of her body next to him, her leg grazing his under the table, doing his best to ignore it. When he finishes his breakfast, he turns his body, pulling back and waiting for her to finish. When she drops the spoon in the bottom of the bowl, he takes both their bowls while she enters the kitchen and returns them before leading her back out of the mess and down the hall.

At Sir Courcillon’s door she knocks, and the man slowly answers the door. She passes him the hard tack biscuits and water Solomon had handed to her from the kitchen wishing him well before he retreats inside and closes the door.

In the parlor, Kurt tries to teach her how to play billiards. Although she is an excellent student, billiards seems to be the one exception and he beats her more often than not. Constantin is eventually drawn out by the sound of the balls clacking and sinking into the pockets and challenges the winner for the next game.

Kurt decides to forfeit and while Elizabeth plays against her cousin, he leans at the table with his arms crossed watching them laugh and taunt each other, poking each other with their cues as they pass. Why does he find it so difficult to be with her like that? He has never worried about being that close to Constantin. Deep down, he knows the answer. He has never trusted himself with her.

Unable to watch any longer, he smiles at Elizabeth and retreats to his cabin. Inside his room, he picks up the book from his desk and settles into his bed reading as the sky darkens, lighting his lantern when it gets too dim to read. Instead of finishing the book, he slips out to the balcony and watches as the first stars begin to dot the sky.

Eventually the dinner bell rings, and he hears a light knock, which draws him back inside and to his door. Constantin and Elizabeth lead him to the mess where Solomon serves a hearty stew. The three of them sit together, Constantin being his usual boisterous self, while Elizabeth sits quietly across from him, glancing at him when her cousin is looking elsewhere.

After a few minutes, Captain Vasco enters and Elizabeth waves him over. After he grabs a bowl, he sits next to Kurt and breaks into conversation with Constantin. When she finishes, Elizabeth returns to the kitchen, this time grabbing a bowl of stew and taking it to her old teacher who is still too seasick to leave his cabin for long except to go to his balcony for fresh air.

When she settles back in across from him, Kurt gives her a smile and takes their bowls to the kitchen before leaving the mess and returning to his room where he grabs his book and carries it with him out to the parlor, settling into the chair reading the last pages of Titus Andronicus. When he finishes the book, he snaps it closed, training his eyes on the floor, questions and emotions flooding his thoughts. “It’s about honor” she had said, but to him, it seemed it was a sad story about bad choices.

His head drops low, the fate of Titus’ daughter Lavinia weighing heavily under thoughts of his own past. Things Elizabeth cannot know. Things he hopes she will never know. His nose burns and he sniffs, realizing he was near tears, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

“Kurt? Are you okay?”

He jumps, startled by her silent approach. “Why this book, Greenblood?”

She moves close to him, leaning against the arm of the chair, close enough he can smell the remains of the floral soap on her skin, and he could easily pull her into his arms and never let her go.

“I told you, it’s about honor.”

Looking at her perfect face he furrows his brows and asks, “What part was honorable?”

“You mistake me. It’s about the cost of blind honor. Titus created the tragedy that consumed him and his family with his sense of loyalty, honor and vengeance. You are an honorable man, Kurt, but even honor can have a price.”

Watching the sway of her hips as she walks away, a rising heat rushes to his center but uncertainty and doubt quickly cool him. Just when he feels that he is beginning to understand Elizabeth, she says or does something that leaves him completely thrown. He stands, slipping the book back into the open space where it belongs, finished with books for the time being.

“Kurt!”

Kurt turns slowly to look Constantin in the eye. ‘Your Highness.”

“Please, don’t. Now we’re on board, it’s just Constantin.”

He shrugs. “As you wish.”

“You know, Kurt, you should really consider widening your horizon.”

Kurt stares at him blankly.

“That Captain of ours could teach you a thing or two for a change,” he quips before walking out to the balcony without another word.

Shaking his head, Kurt retreats to his room before Constantin can make any more comments.

Once inside, he lights the lantern and opens his trunk, pulling out his whetstone, cloth and oil, and seats himself on the edge of the bed with his sword in his lap. This is the one thing he could never get Elizabeth to take seriously, the care that goes into maintaining a blade. She could see it as an extension of her arm, but never as an extension of herself, to be treated as such. But, he thinks, perhaps, that is a good thing. He slowly and carefully tunes the edge of his blade, checking it in the light, running his thumb along the length. Once he finishes, laying the sword and implements on the trunk, he relaxes on the bed until his eyes close and he sleeps.

In his dream, the hideous voice in his head tells him, “You belong to me. You are me.” And though he shakes his head as he denies it, somewhere deep within himself he thinks it must be true. As his dreamscape shifts, he looks down at himself and discovers he is the ill-fated Lavinia, his body used, battered and bleeding, his tongue cut out and hands severed to silence him. Still desperate to speak, to name his attacker, instead of Demetrius and Chiron, the name on his lips is…

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Hermann…

Kurt jerks up, his hand reaching for the sword that he carries on his back coming away empty handed, he crawls back and over the edge of the bed grazing his side against the edge of the metal armor on his boots. His eyes flash open and he looks in a daze at the room around him, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding in his chest and in his ears. The name still on his lips but unuttered, he swallows it down, dry and bitter in his throat, retching at the taste it leaves in his mouth.

Sitting with his back against the bed, he brings his knees up, resting his elbows against them, his head cradled in his hands. Nightmares. Again. He thought he was past it, too grown for his dreams to hurt him like this. All the emotion and self-loathing he has put himself through lately, the doubt and the words in his head, the longing and desire, and the distance and walls. No wonder.

Slowly, he begins to stand, wincing at the pain in his hip and side. Lifting his shirt to look at himself, he realizes his lantern has burned through the last of the oil during the night. Reaching into his duffel, he pulls out a small jar removing the cork as he moves to the back of the room and places it on the desk, propping the balcony door open with the chair to allow more light into the room.

He pulls the waist of his pants down over his right hip and pulls his shirt up under his arm dipping his finger into the salve and smoothing it over his skin.

A sudden thumping noise on the balcony draws his attention and he sees Elizabeth before him, staring wide-eyed with her mouth open, her hands open but empty. “I…uh, sorry,” she sputters as she turns and rushes away, her door slamming immediately after.

“Damnit,” he mutters looking down at his broken and battered body, at his scars that are visible, white lines and gashes over his torso. Then he looks lower, to his pants pushed down below the line of his waist. Quickly pushing the cork back into the bottle, he pulls his pants up, lowers his shirt and steps out the door.

His bare foot strikes something and he looks down to find the book Elizabeth must have dropped at the sight of him. He bends and picks up the leather-bound volume. More Shakespeare. “As You Like It,” he reads the title aloud, turning the book in his hand. He glances over towards her door and slowly walks that way, unsure what to say to her, his hand up, knuckles gently rapping at the door before he can change his mind.

The door opens and, trying to summon words, his mouth opens and closes. “Greenblood…your Excellency…”

“Kurt, I’m sorry.”

He snorts. “You? What do you have to be sorry for? I’m the one who was standing there, indecent.”

“What were you doing?”

Before he thinks better of it, his mouth is open spilling more of the truth than he would wish. “I fell. I mean, I didn’t fall, I slipped out of bed and scraped my side. I was putting some salve on in the light.”

Elizabeth reaches forward and he jumps as she lifts his shirt slightly, hissing at the bruise starting to form under the abrasion in his skin. “Kurt, how did you manage to slip out of bed and hit yourself that hard?” She pulls her hand back and lets his shirt fall back to his waist.

“I was asleep when it happened. But I am sorry, I shouldn’t have had my door open when I wasn’t decent.”

“Kurt, I would hardly call it indecent.”

He cocks his head at her, his eyes narrowed. “What would you call it?”

“I uh, I meant that, it’s not like you were unclothed or anything.”

“You were so unruffled that you dropped this.” Lifting the book from his side, he pushes it towards her.

Keeping her eyes on him, she reaches out and he feels her hands, her fingers curling over the edges of the book and grazing his. At the same time that he wants to pull his hands away, he wants to stay just as they are, close and touching each other. With some effort, he holds and waits for her to be the one to pull away.

~Elizabeth~

Her fingers closed over his, she expects him to pull his hands back as he normally would, but he surprises her by holding on, forcing her to choose. For a moment, she looks down and stares at their hands, fingers nearly intertwined, before she looks back up into his eyes, blue steel under deep black lashes. Slowly, she pulls the book from his hand and his fingers slip away as he backs out of her door, and she watches as he disappears beyond her windows. Elizabeth closes the door, dropping the book on the desk and staring out at the sea.

Unable to focus on reading, she eventually changes and leaves her cabin headed for the mess hall for breakfast. Constantin, who had been leaning back against his door, jumps at her slipping his arm through hers dragging her to the kitchen window.

After they grab their breakfast, they sit at the table nearest the door, Elizabeth watching as Kurt drags himself in, eyes dark and face sour. He settles in next to Constantin and eats quietly as her cousin speaks at length about the Captain and his tattoos. Elizabeth tunes out most of it eyeing Kurt as he sneaks glances at her.

Once Constantin grows bored, he disappears back down the hall and to the parlor at the far end. Elizabeth then slides her plate to the side and tries to work up the courage to speak to her loyal guard. “Kurt, about this morning, you did nothing wrong. I walked right up to your door without thinking or announcing my presence.”

At first, he says nothing, but then he pushes his empty plate aside and looks into her eyes. “Greenblood, let’s just forget about it, okay?” he says, rising from his seat and picking up both plates as he returns them to the kitchen behind her.

She nods and answers, “Sure,” but it’s a lie. Something is off. She feels Kurt’s uneasiness, different than before. Rather than his sense of duty throwing up walls between them, she feels him pulling away even as she reaches out for him. The sight of him that morning burned into her mind, she sees him every time she closes her eyes, so real she could almost reach out and trace the scars etched into his skin.

Even on the warmest days, Kurt never stripped down past his shirt when they trained. She always wondered why when it was so clear he wanted to relieve himself of the heat, and now she understood. Slightly tanned from years of training under the sun and streaked with white scars, for whatever reason, he wanted to keep her from seeing the scars, lines and gouges in his skin.

As he passes back by her, she feels his fingers graze her hand until he slips away out of the mess and down the hall to the parlor, nearly reassuring her. When she stands and walks through the door, she sees Kurt watching as she takes the stairs up.

Out on deck, Elizabeth watches Captain Vasco as he scans the sky and the horizon, glancing around to see what he’s looking at, but she only sees the blue expanse of the sea and sky. Climbing up to the aft deck, she stands to the starboard side out of the way. “Captain, what are you looking for out there?” she asks, still looking for something only he must be able to see.

“I’m watching for anything that might compromise our voyage. Rogue waves, storms, trouble,” he replies without looking in her direction.

Her eyes narrow and her voice rises as she considers his meaning. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that comes from other people. We rarely have to deal with anything like that, especially on this route, but it can happen.”

“Like pirates?”

Vasco laughs gently, barely audible over the snapping sails. “For lack of a better word, sure.”

“Have you ever faced any pirates?”

“No. However, I have faced imbeciles who thought all they needed was a boat and a compass to traverse the sea.”

“A boat? Not a ship?” she asks coyly, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows.

He locks the wheel and turns to look at her, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. “I was unpardonably rude to you that day.”

“Forgotten,” she says as she eyes the unmanned wheel, looking anxiously out to the sea ahead of the ship.

“Would you like to take her for a spin?”

“Is it safe?”

He reaches out his gloved hand and she swallows before taking it, letting him pull her to the wheel, placing each hand on a peg. “Are you ready?” he asks softly beside her ear.

She nods and he flips the lever up. She immediately feels the tug of the wheel, but his hands are on the helm, arms around her, his body close enough she can feel the buckles of his coat against her jacket.

A movement catches her eye, and she sees Kurt dart below and out of sight. “Uh, thank you, Captain…” she sputters out, slipping under his arm and quickly climbing down to the lower deck and through the hatch.

As she descends the stairs, she looks for a sign of Kurt but finds nothing so she slips quietly into her room and out to the balcony, glancing over to Kurt’s door, wishing he would suddenly appear there. When he does not materialize, she walks over and knocks softly. At first, she thinks he won’t answer, but when he finally opens the door, she finds her eyes flitting over his form, unsure where to rest.

Lowering her eyes, she finds her voice. “Kurt, I wondered if I could speak with you.”

“Whatever pleases you, Excellency,” he says, stepping out of his room, slowly advancing as she retreats.

She stumbles over her own feet, and he dives forward, catching her and pulling her up. For a moment, his face is close enough she could kiss him. And she wants to kiss him. She would kiss him, but he quickly pulls away.

“I don’t know what you think you saw up there, but…”

He cuts her off, his voice hard edged. “It’s not my business, Excellency.”

“Kurt, please.”

“If that’s all?”

She nods and turns away before the tears stream hotly down her face. When his door closes, she lifts her chin, wipes her cheeks and marches around the balcony to the parlor doors where she finds Constantin throwing darts that all seem to miss the target entirely. “Constantin! Stop,” she says as she forcefully takes the remaining darts from his hands and gathers the ones sticking at odd angles from the wall, depositing them back in the cup with a soft rattle.

“Fine, then play a game with me.”

“What did you have in mind?”

She watches as he strolls over to the bookcases and digs around in the drawers until he pulls out a wooden box of dominoes. She nods in approval and takes a seat on the opposite side as he dumps the lapis lazuli tiles onto the table between them, shuffling before drawing their hands.

During the first hand, Constantin keeps glancing at her, and without saying a word she can feel his impatience to have an answer to some question on his tongue, by the bounce of his leg and the twitch of his eye. She takes a deep breath and huffs, already exasperated. “Out with it already!”

Pitifully feigning a passing interest, Constantin casually asks, “So, fair cousin, what exactly was it that had Kurt so quickly ducking back downstairs and retreating to his room?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do as you followed almost immediately after, ducking into your room before you came through those doors and accosted me,” he accuses, pointing over his shoulder at the balcony doors.

She might have known. Of course, he was watching the entire time. “Captain Vasco offered to let me stand at the wheel. He had to hold it to keep it steady.”

“Oh, I see. Have you fallen for the charms of the golden-eyed Captain?”

“Constantin, is nothing sacred to you? No, I have not and never shall fall for his so-called charms.”

“Oh, cousin, contrary to what you believe, everything is sacred to me. We simply have different ideas of how to show reverence.”

“Truer words…”

“Dear Elizabeth, I know who has captured your eye. The question is, does he know?”

“I will not play this game with you, Constantin,” she snaps at him, taking her hand and swiping, knocking her remaining dominoes face up before stalking away to her room.

“Come back,” she hears him call after her, but she steps through her door and slams it behind her.

As she passes the bed, she grabs a pillow and then picks up the book she left on the desk earlier and carries both out to the balcony, dropping the pillow and sinking down into it, meaning to read, but unable to pay attention to the words on the page. Leaning against the end of the railing where it meets the ship, Elizabeth watches the horizon as it grows darker, her thoughts running wild.

So, Constantin knows, at least in some capacity, that she cares for Kurt. How long he has known is less certain, but it’s only a matter of time until he opens his mouth. Perhaps it’s for the best. Let her cousin say the things she can never bring herself to say.

A door opening and closing to her right catches her by surprise, and she turns her head, knowing who will be standing there. Loyal and true, there he is and she finds it impossible to break away from his steady gaze.

“Greenblood, I’m sorry about the way I left things. I’m your guard, but I’m not your warden.”

“Kurt…” she begins, finally tearing her eyes from his, looking at her hands. She sighs and blinks a tear from her eye before looking out away from him at the steadily darkening horizon.

Moving closer, Kurt kneels next to her on the balcony. “Go on,” he says softly.

“You’re more than just my guard,” she says quietly, still not looking at him.

“I know.”

She turns to look at him, needing to see how he reacts when she asks, “Are we friends, Kurt?”

For a moment, he says nothing, as if he is measuring the weight of her question, weighing the gravity of his answer. “Yes,” he finally says, wiping the tear from her cheek with his thumb.

She nods and rises seeing the twitch in his jaw as he steps back. “Good.” She picks up the pillow and the book and slips quietly through her door.

When the dinner bell rings shortly after, Elizabeth stays in her room. Crossing to the bed, she sinks down into it with her hand clutched to her chest. Kurt’s stomach, taut and lean, his side bent into a sensual curve, the line of his shape down to the dip of his waist over the jut of his hip, these images keep flickering in her mind every time she closes her eyes. Finally relenting, she sleeps and dreams of him. Again. As always.

~Kurt~

As he begins to drift off, he hears Elizabeth’s voice crying out. Blinking his eyes open, he listens intently and hears his name, which propels him from his bed and out his balcony door in an instant. As he passes out of his door and reaches hers, something freezes him in his tracks, a soft moan reaches him through the open windows followed again by his name. For the love of the gods, she is moaning his name. He knows he should walk away but he risks one look at her sleeping form before retreating.

Back inside his cabin, he slips into bed ignoring his growing erection, tossing and turning under the blanket, unable to sleep with the sound of his name in her voice. Even when she stops, it keeps playing in his head, he keeps seeing her body moving against the bed, guilt and desire growing proportionately.

When sleep does come, Kurt dreams about Elizabeth’s voice, his name on her perfect lips, breaking through the wall between their rooms. Fighting to stay where he is, his body moves out of his control. With every step he takes to get to her door, a tension grows in him, and no matter how hard he tries to stop and turn around, he keeps moving toward her.

When he opens her door and enters her room, he finds Hermann lurking over her body, using her the way he had used him. Ignoring her pleas for him to stop, he puts his hands on her, covering her mouth, ripping her pants down around her ankles and forcing himself inside her. She looks at him with tears streaming down her face and asks, “Are we friends, Kurt?” Unable to move, Kurt screams at Hermann to stop. He pleads, begging to take her place, anything to make it stop.

He wakes in the dark choking out the word no over and over as he jumps to his feet and races out the door, slamming it against the wall as he passes through and to the balcony railing violently shaking and purging over the rail. The other night terrors are bad enough, though tolerable. But this…it confirms everything he fears most. This is why he kept his distance, why he built a wall between them. If not for his need to protect her and keep her safe, he would throw himself over the railing and be done with it.

He jumps as a hand settles lightly in the middle of his back, rubbing a circle into him.

“Kurt?”

Unable to look at her or even speak, he puts his head down against the railing, afraid that she will see the substance of his dream on his face. He swallows the bile in his throat, a small gasp escaping his mouth before he exhales.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, with tears in his eyes, he says nothing, gives away nothing, while her hand continues to make warm circles in his skin. If he were truly honorable, he would stop her. Never let her touch him again. Because that hand on his back makes him feel like a villain in some twisted fairytale. “Please, Greenblood, just…go,” he says shrugging away from her touch.

Her hand jerks away from him and he hears her door open and close sharply behind him. His legs buckle beneath him, and he falls to his knees, collapsing in a hulk, forehead pressed to the balcony floor. If he keeps it up, she will hate him in no time.

Good. She’s better off hating him than loving him.

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

A loud bang in the usual quiet wakes Vasco from his sleep. Startled, he bolts upright, looking around dazed but hears nothing else. Just eerie silence aboard ship and the waves lapping at the hull.

Entering the bathroom to relieve himself, he hears an indistinct voice outside the balcony and quietly slips the door open, peering over the side. On the balcony below, he sees the hunched figure of Kurt leaning over the railing and de Sardet standing near, her hand resting lightly on his back. Though their voices are too low to make out any words, it is clear that something is happening between them when she storms through her cabin door, and he collapses to his knees soon after.

Vasco watches silently for a long time while the Coin Guard hardly moves other than to take several shuddering breaths. Though he’s never befriended one before, they’re not known to be dramatic or emotional. This man is hurting and going through something. Clearly. What is not clear is how desperate the man is. Would he throw himself into the drink? A midnight swim in freezing water would certainly do the trick. It’s slow and painful but effective. Just as he is about to sound the alarm, Kurt stands and shuffles back into his cabin.

Deciding to leave the balcony door open, Vasco relieves himself and goes back to bed with a plan forming in his mind to get to the bottom of whatever is happening aboard his ship. Drama on the sea is no good for anyone. It makes the crew edgy and disrupts routine. As soon as his head hits his pillow, he is sleeping soundly again, and he wakes rested in the morning with the breaking dawn. Returning to the bathroom, he closes the balcony doors hoping the Coin Guard stayed in his room through the night. No way can he turn around for him or begin to explain to his Admiral how he lost a passenger.

He studies his face in the mirror over the basin as he pulls his long golden hair back in a tie. The small black mole on his cheek stands out against his tanned skin and he rubs a thumb over it as he runs his fingers over his jaw feeling the stubble on his face. After a quick shave, he throws on some clothes and walks into the sitting room, shrugging on his coat, fastening the buckles, and slipping his boots on before lifting his tricorne from its hook and setting it in place on his head.

Stepping out of his door, he darts down the stairs and, checking to make sure no one is around, draws closer to Kurt’s cabin. His nerves frayed, he leans in and puts an ear to Kurt’s door. Hearing the relieving sound of the man shuffling around inside, he retreats and takes the stairs up, climbing up to the aft deck and taking over the helm from his first mate.

During his first shift, he keeps a wary eye on the hatch for either the legate or her guard to make an appearance but neither shows up by the time the breakfast bell rings. After his first mate returns from the mess, he hands the helm over and ducks below.

As he enters, he finds de Sardet sitting at a table alone with her back to the door and grabs himself a plate. “Mind if I share your table?” he asks softly.

“Of course not, Captain.”

He seats himself across from her and watches her carefully. Whatever happened last night was no minor thing. She does well to mask her pain, and it probably fools most, but Vasco notices the subtle drop of her shoulders, the way her smile falters just the tiniest bit.

“So, Lady de Sardet, where are your usual companions this morning?”

“Sleeping, I suppose.”

“I noticed you borrowing books from my parlor library. I have a much more extensive library in my quarters.”

Her eyes widen.

“Pardon me, I certainly didn’t mean it like that,” Vasco mutters. Doing great so far. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

“I, uh…”

“You and your fellow guests, of course.”

“Sir de Courcillon is still feeling under the weather but I’m sure my cousin would be delighted. You should ask Kurt yourself,” she says with a hint of bitterness.

“I’ll do just that,” he replies as he finishes his meal. Stacking her empty plate on his, he picks up both and carries them to the kitchen.

“Captain. Still on for dinner tonight?”

He nods and places a hand on Solomon’s shoulder to reassure him before he leaves the mess to find Kurt.

He can hear the man moving around inside after he knocks. When he doesn’t answer, he knocks more heavily, and the door suddenly jerks open to a dark and grizzled face staring into his. “Captain, I wondered if I could have a word with you.”

Kurt steps aside dramatically and motions him into his room. “Come in…”

Glancing around, Vasco notices the bed is unmade and his single trunk is still taking up a lot of space. “You know, we could take that trunk down to the hold?”

“Thank you, but it’s fine where it is.”

Vasco leans back against the wall beside the door and watches as Kurt moves around the room picking up clothes and pillows, trying to straighten up now that he has an unexpected visitor. “Kurt, you seem to have taken a disliking for me. I’m not sure why but I hoped we could be on friendly terms with each other considering we’ll be seeing a lot of each other for the next two months.”

“Listen, Captain, I have enough to deal with that I’m not concerned about you,” he says as he drops the clothes he gathered down the laundry chute.

“Regardless of whether you have the capacity to give it any attention, you certainly have something against me. Does it have anything to do with what happened the other night?”

“You mean Constantin dragging you up to your cabin?” he asks with a scoff. “No. He’s a grown man who can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants. My only job is to keep him alive,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“I see. So, it must be about the fairer cousin then.”

Kurt’s steel blue eyes flicker like the glint of light on a blade, and nearly as cutting. “Be careful with the next words that come out of your mouth, Sailor,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, his brows raised as if daring him to continue.

At first, a spark of anger courses up Vasco’s spine, challenged on his own ship by a coin fed mercenary, but he manages to quash it before it erupts. “I don’t know what you think is happening but there is nothing there. I’m not saying I’m not interested, but her heart belongs to someone else.” He notices the way Kurt’s eyes narrow at this as if he’s trying to work out who this someone else might be. Laughing softly, he continues, “Come on, how can you not know?”

“I know she has some kind of crush on me, I thought I broke her of it when she was a child.”

Vasco stands and crosses the room looking out the windows in the direction of her cabin. “She’s not a child. And it’s not a crush.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. “Stop, Sailor. Whatever you think we might have, we don’t. We can’t.”

“Why not? Because you’re just her guard? That doesn’t seem to be stopping her,” he says turning and leaning against the wall, watching Kurt intently.

“No, because she deserves better.”

Closing his eyes, Vasco scoffs. “Better than someone who obviously loves her enough to let her go?”

“Why do you care?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself all day, every day, since the day we met.”

Kurt stares at him for a moment as if he’s trying to decide whether to hit him or kick him out of his cabin. “You and me both,” he says flatly.

“I’ve never met anyone like her. A noble who would risk her own life for someone else? Who I suspect risked quite a lot on her last day in Serene in the name of helping others.”

“You would be right.”

"I have to admit that I was rather suspicious of her at first. That business with the crates, which I am sure somehow made it onto my ship?" He raises an eyebrow in question.

"Do you want the truth, Captain?"

He could easily check the manifest and cargo himself, but he wants to hear it directly from his mouth. "Always."

“The crates made it into the warehouse and onto the manifest so they should be on the ship. Don’t hold it against her. She did it for me.”

"Knowing her a little better, I'm rather ashamed for not trying to do more to help."

"But you did help. We wouldn't have known what we needed to do otherwise." Kurt reassures him, "And no one will ever know. You have my word."

"One thing has been eating at me. Would you mind telling me what happened to the supposed heretics?"

Vasco watches as Kurt reaches for the door and steps out, rising and following him out into the hall, as his face suddenly brightens and he laughs for what must be the first time that morning, patting Vasco on the back once as he turns toward the mess. Just before he is out of hearing range, he says over his shoulder, "She let them go," before disappearing into the mess hall.

A large smile spreads across Vasco's face as he takes a few large strides down the hall and up the stairs. He takes the helm back, sending Aleander below to rest as he steers the ship over the waves, riding the current.

Word spreads quickly around the docks with little else to do. Somehow, he had known that de Sardet had been behind the mysterious escape of the smuggler and the disappearance of the exiles, but he had hoped they somehow escaped the inquisitors. No love is lost between the Nauts and those religious zealots. Still, he never figured de Sardet to be one to drug anyone, the two guards, caught drunk and passed out on duty, had been hauled to the jail to sleep it off. Fascinating woman, the Legate to the Merchant Congregation is turning out to be.

In the corner of his vision, he catches movement, and he watches as Kurt steps out of the hatch and climbs up to the aft deck leaning back against the railing nearby, waiting for the man to speak first.

“What you said before, about me, I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t know how to stop this without causing her pain.”

“Why would you want to stop it, Captain?”

“It’s Kurt, Captain.”

“Vasco,” he says, keeping his eyes forward on the horizon, a small smile turning up the corner of his mouth.

“She deserves…”

“Someone better than you. Yes, I heard that before. But what makes you think you’re not good enough?”

“I’m just not. Okay?”

Vasco glances in his direction for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not okay, Kurt. Whatever voice inside that head of yours is telling you that you don’t deserve love is wrong.”

“Look, there are things that are broken that I can’t fix, and I don’t want her to suffer because of it.”

“I’m trying to help you. To be your friend.”

Kurt stands from the railing and stares daggers at him like a man on the edge. His eyes narrowed and untrusting, he shakes his head slowly and, as he turns to stalk away, Vasco thrusts his hand out grasping his wrist, quickly locking the wheel with the other. Immediately, the soldier goes into fight or flight mode, settling on fight, swinging his free hand at Vasco’s face. Grabbing Kurt’s other wrist, he leans into him.

“Unhand me, Sailor,” he growls back at him.

Years of working on a ship, running rigging, steering, has given him reflexes and strength which surprises the guard who continues to try to fight against him even as he pushes him back against the railing. Vasco leans harder into him, feeling his humid breaths on his neck, until he stops fighting. When he feels Kurt finally relax, he pulls back a little, giving him some space, both of them panting from the exertion.

“Everything okay, Cap?” Lauro calls up from the lower deck.

Without glancing in his direction, Vasco shouts back, “Everything is fine. Get back to work!”

In a moment Kurt gives up fighting against him and Vasco releases his wrists, backing away and stepping back up to the helm, flipping the lock up.

“What was that?” Kurt asks rubbing his wrists angrily.

“Kurt, you have to learn to let people care about you. I know we don’t really know each other, but I feel like that’s how you think you like it. Keeping everyone at a safe distance. Especially her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not playing some game.”

“No, I know you’re not. I don’t know what happened to you, but it was obviously traumatic.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kurt says, his voice cracking, betraying deep pain.

“You don’t have to. Just know that whatever happened to you, it doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“How would you know? You don’t know me.”

“Kurt, I don’t have to know you. Because she knows you. And she loves you just as you are. Now, you can let your chance go by, and there are any number of men who would be happy to step up and take your place, but not one of them is going to be for her what you can be.”

“Which is?”

Throwing his head back with a sigh, Vasco closes his eyes in frustration. “Do I have to spell it out for you? That woman is obviously prepared to defy her uncle to be with you! Do you know what I would do to have that?”

“I would sooner let her go than hurt her.”

His voice rising in vexation, Vasco huffs and looks directly in Kurt’s eyes. “You’re a fool then. I don’t know what else to say other than this. If you aren’t going to let yourself love her, then let her go. You need to tell her right now. Let her begin to move on. She deserves that much. And, trust me, if it comes to that, I won’t be the only one waiting to pick up the pieces, Kurt”

Vasco watches, frustration pulling his face into a frown, as Kurt storms away and climbs down to the lower deck disappearing through the hatch. Far from finished, he steps back into his stance and sails quietly but unsettled. It may not be his business, but he’s invested now, and he has no idea how to stop the man from making the biggest mistake of his life.

After the dinner bell rings and his first mate shows up, he hands over the helm. “I’ll be tied up, so you handle her tonight?”

“Yes, Captain,” he says excitedly.

After Vasco makes his way downstairs, he knocks at Kurt’s door watching as de Sardet and Constantin seat themselves next to each other at the parlor table for dinner. When the door opens Kurt raises his brows but does not invite him in.

“Come have dinner, Kurt. You still have to eat.”

He leans out and watches as Jonas pushes the serving cart down the hall. “One condition. You don’t mention anything in front of them.”

“You have my word.”

“Fine,” he says as he steps out, closing his door sharply behind him.

“Jonas, be sure to take something to Sir de Courcillon’s cabin for dinner,” he says as the cabin boy passes by again.

Vasco watches as Kurt seats himself further away from de Sardet, leaving him to sit across from her his time. While Constantin pays little attention, she takes notice and sits stiffly, sipping from her glass of wine, looking in the opposite direction.

After refilling each glass, he lifts his own and, standing, he looks down at Kurt and toasts, “To friends, old and new.”

Kurt shakes his head, but the tiniest smile curls up the corner of his mouth and he drinks half his glass before lowering it back to the table. Hardly a resolution, it is something. As Vasco takes his seat, he glances at de Sardet who returns his smile but continues to avoid looking at Kurt. Whatever he said to her on the balcony the night before, though short, must have been effective.

Constantin monopolizes the conversation, eyeing Vasco with interest, telling stories of their time in Serene. When he talks about their training with Kurt, Vasco notices the way he softens when he looks at de Sardet though she still refuses to meet his gaze. She does smile, albeit sadly, at her cousin’s stories, shaking her head at his exaggerations.

“Constantin, you know that’s not how it happened. Captain, you can’t believe half of what he says.”

“If I recall correctly, Greenblood, you were quite quick to get into scrapes, not only with other young ladies, but with any boy who dared slight your cousin.”

She snaps her head in his direction, replying, “When I was ten, yes.” Elizabeth lifts her glass to her lips and sips her wine without saying another word. When he cocks his head at her, she pushes her plate away and stands, walking around the table to the games room and plucks the darts out of the cup, stepping back and throwing them at the target, a thunk sound for each one as she throws them over and over.

Kurt almost stands but Vasco lays a hand on his shoulder and rises, stepping over next to her speaking softly. “Lady de Sardet, I can’t help but notice that there is something bothering you tonight. All day, in fact.”

“Are we going to be friends, Captain?” she asks in a soft voice as she throws another dart, a soft thunk punctuating her question.

“I’m afraid that’s up to your discretion, but I would like to think so, yes.”

“Then call me de Sardet, please.”

“Only if you will call me Vasco.”

She nods. “Well, Vasco, you are more observant than my companions it seems.”

“I’m sure Kurt has noticed the fact that you’re trying to avoid looking at him.”

“You think so?”

Nodding, he takes the remaining black darts from her, collecting the ones in the target while she collects the blue ones. “I know so.”

She glances around his shoulder and jerks her head back to the dartboard, aiming and throwing a dart that barely hits the target. “After Constantin last night and now me, your poor wall is going to end up riddled with holes.”

“I’m not concerned about my wall, de Sardet,” he says softly, his brows raised.

She lowers her voice nearly to a whisper. “I can’t talk about this with him sitting right there. I’m not even sure I want to talk about it at all.”

Vasco takes the rest of the darts from her hands and leans against the billiards table. “Later, then.”

She nods and stands, says, “Goodnight,” walking to the balcony doors and stepping out into the chilled night air disappearing around the side of the ship.

Vasco returns the darts to the cup with a sigh and watches as Kurt’s gaze follows her out of sight before shifting back to him, a puzzled look on his face.

Constantin, completely sober and obviously disappointed that he isn’t the one garnering all of Vasco’s attention, excuses himself and returns, bored, to his cabin, taking one last long look up and down the Captain before he steps inside. Vasco would have liked to take him back to his own quarters again, a flush of heat rushes over him at the thought, the man certainly lives up to his charms, but he has more pressing matters at hand.

Taking his seat as Jonas takes the plates and abandoned glasses away, Vasco turns his chair so that he is looking directly at Kurt, one leg crossed over the other and his hands folded in his lap. Time to come clean. “Look, Kurt, I don’t know what happened last night, and I certainly wasn’t trying to intrude, but your door slamming woke me up and I saw the end of whatever happened between you two. I don’t know what you said to her, but it worked.”

“So that’s what all of this is about?”

He shakes his head and mutters “No. Okay, yes, it started that way, but I knew something was happening with you and I couldn’t ignore it. It may surprise you, Kurt, but outside of a few of my crew, I don’t have friends.”

Kurt smirks. “No, that doesn’t surprise me at all. It’s the same for us in the Guard. Well, not me, but others.”

“What do you mean not you?”

“I never spent any time with my comrades. I’m always with those two. Either training or guarding them or keeping them out of trouble,” he says lifting his glass to his mouth and swallowing a mouthful.

“You don’t have anyone else?”

“There’s Sieglinde but she’s been in New Serene for years now.”

Vasco lifts the bottle and refills both their glasses. “Are you going to tell me what you said to her?”

“So, you can go talk to her about it later?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he mutters, swirling his glass before taking a sip.

“What should I care?” Sighing, he continues, “I guess I woke her up. She came out and asked what was wrong and I told her to leave me alone.”

“That’s all?”

“Things happened yesterday, and I think it was one too many. It’s for the best that she hates me. It makes it easier for both of us to move on and for me to do my job.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Kurt. She’s hurt, but she definitely doesn’t hate you.”

“You saw the way she looked at me? Or, rather, the way she refused to look at me?”

“I saw it.” He hesitates a moment before he asks, “Why did you go tearing out of your cabin like that?”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about that,” Kurt mutters, setting his jaw.

“You told me you don’t want to talk about what happened to you. What does that have to do with last night?”

Kurt tilts back his glass and drinks every drop before he continues. “Everything. Look, I have nightmares sometimes, alright? And last night was probably the worst I’ve ever had. I am not going to talk about it. I just want to forget it.”

Vasco finishes his own glass and places it lightly on the table before looking back to the man now hunched over the table next to him. “Okay, I’m sorry, Kurt. I didn’t know. Whatever it is, just know that you are not your dreams or your past. She sees something in you, and I have to believe that a woman like her can’t be wrong about that.” He stands, passing him the nearly empty wine bottle and placing his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze before walking away and up the stairs to his cabin.

Inside, he removes his hat and his coat, hanging them beside the door and slipping out of his boots. He moves to his office and sits at his desk looking over the cargo manifest. She did a decent job of forging the quartermaster’s handwriting, but it might not fool the harbormaster in New Serene. He must get down to the hold and take a look at those crates without rousing any suspicion. During breakfast perhaps.

Laying his head down with his hands on the back of his neck, his thoughts drift back to de Sardet and Kurt. Maybe he has no business meddling in this. A two-month voyage and then he’s unlikely to ever see them again. He reaches into the bottom right drawer and pulls out his best bottle of rum and a glass. It breaks the rules, but every captain has a bottle of their favorite drink hidden somewhere on their ship.

His senses slightly dulled from the wine; another more potent drink is just what he needs. Pouring just two fingers in the glass, he brings it to his lips, about to take a sip, when he hears a sharp knock at his door. “Enter,” he calls out without getting up already knowing who will answer.

“Captain? Vasco?” de Sardet calls from the sitting room.

“In here, to your right.”

She trips over his boots before she appears in his study door. “Your cabin is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he says, motioning to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Sorry about the boots. Would you like a drink of Rum?”

“I’ve never had it.”

Reaching into his drawer for another glass, he lifts the bottle with the other hand and pours a small amount, pushing the glass across the desk to her, smoothing his papers with his hand after. “So, what is it that’s bothering you, de Sardet?”

“I don’t know what I did. Last night Kurt tore out of his cabin, slamming his door and I went out to see what was wrong. He told me to go away, actually shrunk away from my hand. One moment he’s calling me his friend and the next, he won’t even look at me.” She takes a sip and hisses as it goes down her throat.

Fuck. Kurt never said not to tell her, but he never said he could either. “I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but I feel like if I don’t, things are only going to get worse.

“Tell me what?”

“Kurt told me tonight that he’s having nightmares. I don’t know what about, he won’t say. But he did tell me that last night was the worst one he’s ever had.”

She tosses back the rest of her rum, setting the empty glass heavily on the table. “I didn’t know…and here I’ve been making everything harder. He must hate me.”

“The two of you are the most stubborn and blind fools I’ve ever met!” he says, rubbing his face with his hands.

“You sound like Constantin. He’s convinced Kurt is sweet on me. But other than a few looks while we were drunk, I don’t see it.”

“I see more than you think, de Sardet. I’ve seen him touch you when he thought no one was looking.”

She blushes and lifts her empty glass waiting as he pours a little more rum in. “I thought that meant something too, but now I’m not so sure.”

“What else happened yesterday?”

“What did he tell you?”

“Nothing really. He said something about things happening and that last night was just one more…”

“I think he must have been having a nightmare the night before too. He somehow fell out of bed and scraped his side on his armor. I was outside reading on the balcony and heard him open his door. I should have said something, but I didn’t think. I walked right to his door, and he was standing there with his shirt pulled up and his pants…I dropped my book and then ran like a coward back to my room. He came to my door and tried to explain, but later he just said to forget it happened.”

Vasco snorts behind his hand. “I’m sorry, but how does that work out to being so bad?”

“I think we both felt like we had done something inappropriate. I certainly invaded his privacy and he seemed to feel like he had exposed himself to me.

“I see. Kurt has enough shame buried deep within him for the rest of the male gender put together.”

“I went up on deck after that and I don’t know how long he had been watching, but he saw me standing at the wheel, and you practically had your arms around me.”

“That’s why you suddenly ducked under my arm and disappeared. No wonder Kurt was so…curt with me this morning.” He shakes his head and refills his glass.

“I tried to talk to him, but he went into his paid mercenary act, ‘whatever pleases you, Excellency’ and all that. Then, later, he told me he’s my guard, not my warden.”

“Ouch…” he replies, taking a larger sip this time, the rum warming him.

“I know it probably seems silly to you, but I’ve lived my whole life doing what everyone else wants. I don’t know how or if I can have what I want.”

“I think you should try.”

“And if he doesn’t want me back? It will all have been for nothing. Worse. My uncle will have me married off and Kurt sent away.” She empties her glass again, supporting her head with her hand, her elbow resting on his desk.

“Being nobility is starting to sound rather unpleasant.”

“A lot of the time, it is. But I had my mother…”

“Had?”

Her face twists and her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finally manages to say, “She has the Malichor. She’ll probably be gone by the time we reach the island.”

“I’m sorry, de Sardet,” he says pouring a little more rum in her glass.

“Poor little noble. What you must think of us. Always complaining, always wanting. Nothing ever being good enough, fast enough.”

“You’re not like that.”

“Perhaps, but I imagine it must be difficult to spend so much time dealing with nobility. This is your home, after all. Sharing it with people who look down their noses at you…” she says, looking down to avoid his eyes.

“This is often true. But I am beginning to realize that all nobles are not the same.”

“I haven’t met many Nauts, but I have to say that while some of the rumors seem to be based at least a little in truth, they are mostly lies from what I can tell.”

Vasco breaks into laughter and tips his glass up emptying it again. “Careful, madam. The rumors about us Nauts are true more often than not. But do tell, which truths have you observed?”

“There’s your penchant for drinking, heavily,” she slurs, her mouth stretching into a wide smile as she takes another sip from her glass.

“To be sure. What else?

“Well, uh…” She blushes as she tries to formulate her thoughts.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your cousin, would it?”

“You’re both consenting adults, Captain. But I was a bit surprised.”

“Were you expecting that I would try to lure you to my cabin?”

“It seemed to me that Constantin was the one doing the luring. And I wouldn’t flatter myself to think such a thing, Vasco,” she slurs with a smile as she takes another drink.

“Oh, come now, you know you are a beautiful woman. Any man on this ship would be delighted to pursue you. A few ladies too.”

She lifts her hand and points to her cheek. “With this mark on my face, and my general distaste for authority, I find most men only have one interest in me. And it has everything to do with marital advantages.”

“Now, that is a shame.”

“Perhaps. But it is also true,“ she says as she lowers her hand back to the desk.

“There is at least one man on this ship who sees you for exactly who you are.”

“You?” She laughs softly and finishes her glass, pushing it across the desk.

“I do, but I wasn’t referring to myself. No, I’m speaking of a certain raven-haired, blue-eyed soldier who is as crazy about you as you are about him.”

“I still don’t see it.”

“That man only has eyes for you,” he says stealthily slipping the bottle of rum back into his desk drawer.

“I don’t understand how you can be so sure. I’ve spent years trying to figure him out,” she says looking into her empty glass.

“Years?”

Vasco watches as her eyes soften and her body relaxes under the delicate contemplation of the man she so obviously loves. If he was unsure before, that is no longer the case. They would be perfect for each other except they’ll never get further than a pining friendship without some outside assistance.

“Kurt is unfailingly loyal. And kind. There’s a softness to him that he works very hard to hide. And I know something terrible happened to him before he came to us. His scars attest to that. But he won’t talk about it.”

“You must know, de Sardet, he sees himself as unworthy of someone like you. He thinks you deserve someone better.”

“Kurt? He hasn’t an insecure bone in his body.”

“Perhaps not when it comes to his job. But you?”

“Me?”

“You are a captivating woman, de Sardet. And I would be honored to be the man at your side, but I know I’m not the one you want.”

”I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult to get close to him.” she says, her eyes half closed.

“Probably because you both genuinely care for each other. Too much at stake. Too much to lose.”

He suddenly realizes she heard none of that when her head slides off her arm and onto the desk. Damnit. What now? Either carry her to his sofa, or down the spiral staircase…

Rising, he goes to his closet and pulls out a couple of blankets, covering his sofa with one. He retrieves a pillow from his bed and tosses it at the near end on the blanket. Back in his office, he slides one arm around de Sardet’s back and the other under her knees, sighing as she turns into him, her face buried in his neck. In another life, maybe, he thinks as he lifts her and carries her to the sofa, removing her boots and covering her with a blanket before putting out all the lamps and returning to his bedroom.

He changes quickly and climbs into his bed, pulling the blanket up to his waist, wanting to sleep but unable to settle his mind. What has he gotten himself entangled with? Why does he care? Most men would see the situation as a stroke of luck. Waiting for Kurt to break her heart and then sweeping in to pick up the pieces. Sorry he ever said it; he vows to right it somehow. To help his newfound friends to mend the rift between them.

His head light with drink, the waves slowly rock him to sleep.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

In the morning, Elizabeth wakes with a slight headache in an unfamiliar room. Glancing around at the bookshelves, the open bathroom door, the office, she realizes she is in Vasco’s cabin, on his sofa. She vaguely remembers being carried from his office but it’s all hazy. Regret begins to creep in as she slips quietly out of the blanket and pulls her boots on, trying to sneak over to the door.

“Glad to see you’re finally awake.”

Freezing in place, she turns and puts on her best smile while rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who plied you with rum,” he says quietly as he passes her an envelope of powder and a glass of water. “For the headache.”

Grimacing at the taste of the powder, she quickly begins flooding her mouth with water. “I hate to ask, but can you help me get to my room without being seen?”

“Afraid of the rumor mill? Being associated with a Naut?”

“No. Just afraid of what Kurt would think.”

He nods and smiles. “Let me go and clear the way.”

She watches, shamefaced, as Vasco steps out and waits a few minutes until he comes back and leads her out the door and down the stairs to her room. The only person they pass is Jonas who he asks to bring water to her room for a bath. “Here you are, de Sardet. Your secret is safe with me.”

“You know this isn’t about you, right?”

“I know,” he says releasing her hand and walking away with his head down, taking the steps back up to the deck where she hears as he begins yelling out orders.

Elizabeth steps inside her room and closes the door as quietly as possible. Slipping her boots off, she begins to gather her bath soap and towel, pulling out a random waistcoat and matching shirt and pants. When Jonas returns with the water, she thanks him as he pours the buckets into her tub filling it higher than the last time. She desperately wants to explain why he caught her sneaking down from the Captain’s cabin. Jonas is such a sweet young man and the idea of him thinking ill of her…

Instead, she says nothing else, and, after he leaves, she pours in some bath salts, peels her clothes off, sinks down into the hot water and relaxes trying to forget where she woke up that morning. It hardly matters that nothing happened; Constantin will never let her live it down if he finds out. And Kurt will likely never forgive her.

Omissions are lies her own voice says inside her head. If she hides it and he finds out anyway, he will certainly never forgive her.

Elizabeth begins to lather the soap and cleanse her skin rinsing herself off as the water begins to cool. Standing, she wraps the towel around her and pulls the plug, picking up her clothes and dropping them down the chute before dressing in a basic brown jacket she knows Constantin will tease her relentlessly for, but she hardly cares today about how she looks or what her cousin has to say about it.

Torn between telling Kurt about last night and hoping he never finds out, she quickly pins her hair and pulls on her boots stepping out onto the balcony and knocking on his door, her heart beating against her chest, hoping that for just once he will let her down and not be there…

~Kurt~

A knock on his balcony door has him looking warily to his windows. Elizabeth, breathtaking as always. He knows she left her room last night and never returned, at least not until he was already asleep. Judging by the honeyed, genteel voice at her door this morning, one guess is all he needs to figure out where she was and who she was with.

She belongs to no one, least of all him. He has no right to be jealous. But he is. He tries to annihilate thoughts of the two of them together but it’s no use. And, suddenly, the meaning of ‘green with envy’ dawns on him, because the very thought of her with someone else makes him ill, dangerously close to running out the door and purging over the railing.

He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, crosses the room and opens the door, leaning on the edge with his arms crossed. He wants to be angry, but the softness of her eyes and the slight tremble of her mouth consumes his jealousy and his ire leaving him no choice but to feel his want and affection. It climbs like fire from his middle and radiates through him, warming at first but leaving a void as it meets the walls he quickly throws up and burns out.

“Kurt, I need to speak with you.”

“About what, Excellency?”

“I went up to talk to Vasco last night, and I drank a little too much rum, and…”

“And what, Greenblood?”

He asks calmly, but he tucks his hands behind his back to hide their shaking, his heart pounding in his ears and his blood boiling.

“I fell asleep at his desk, and he must have carried me to the sofa. I woke up there this morning.”

Kurt feels a bit of relief wash over him and kicks himself for it. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks with a slight edge to his voice.

“Because I wanted you to know that we talked, nothing more.”

“It’s certainly not my business. I’m sorry if I made it seem as though I felt it was. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

She owes him nothing. He is nothing.

“Damnit, Kurt! I know that you have scars I can’t see. I know you don’t want to talk about them. But I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away,” she nearly shouts, her hands making fists at her side.

There it is. Finally. Yes. Get angry, Greenblood.

“It’s not you. I’m broken beyond repair. You deserve better.”

She deserves everything and he will never be able to give her that.

“If another man tries to tell me what I deserve I’ll scream,” she says, her voice rising higher as she continues. “I think I’m the best judge of what I want and what I deserve and what will make me happy.”

“That’s all I want for you, Greenblood.”

She sighs and looks away from his eyes. “But not with you? I keep trying to reach you and you keep moving further away. If you don’t want me, please tell me, Kurt.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t tell you that. But I also can’t be what you need.”

“Vasco was wrong then. I’m sorry. I’ve been a foolish child. I won’t bother you again,” she says barely above a whisper as she backs away and returns to her cabin.

He desperately wants to stop her, to pull her into his arms and hold her, feel her, but she finally has what she needs to move on. It’s for the best. Maybe they can even be friends when she finally forgives him. But, thinking back to all the ways he let her hope, touches he let linger, she might never be able to forgive him for leading her on all this time.

The sailor is unlikely to wait long before he makes a move, but Kurt is already getting dressed in a blur, pulling on his boots and jerking his door open as thoughts run wildly through his mind. Vasco letting her get drunk, alone, in his cabin…

~Vasco~

Vasco finds Kurt’s sudden and aggravated presence on deck unsurprising. He obviously knows where de Sardet spent the night and why. Watching as he climbs up to the aft deck, stalking up to the helm, Vasco quickly flips the lock in place and braces himself for whatever storm is now headed his way.

With his hands up before him, he quickly stammers, “Kurt, before you do or say something you’ll regret, just listen.”

Kurt keeps advancing until his face is mere inches away before he stops, his face red and his breathing quick. “You got her drunk and had her sleeping in your cabin?”

“Whoa, wait just a minute. I did not get her drunk. She is a grown woman. And it was a tiny amount of rum.”

“And spending the night in your cabin?” he asks, not backing down.

“On the sofa!”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that she is moving on.”

Vasco watches as Kurt finally takes a step back toward the railing with a sigh. What did he do? Vasco narrows his eyes and shakes his head gloomily. “No, that doesn’t make me happy at all.”

“Why not? You can step up and pick up the pieces now, just like you said,” Kurt accuses him, his emptiness weighing heavily on his shoulders which drop on either side.

“Kurt, I said a lot of things yesterday that I regret. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were right.”

“No, I wasn’t. I realized after talking to her last night, I don’t think she’ll ever truly move on. And I don’t think I could live a life being compared to the man she will measure all others by.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that she’ll probably end up married to some man who her uncle can gain an advantage from.”

Vasco watches as Kurt turns and leans over the railing, silent but constantly moving, fidgeting. “I don’t want that for her…”

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Vasco asks, his voice edged with contempt.

“Why me?”

“Because you are the one she wants, Kurt. If it was me, I would be down there with her right now.”

Kurt flinches and only then does Vasco realize he had been nearly yelling at the man.

“Damnit, Vasco, why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“If that’s really what you want, to push de Sardet away, to push me away, be alone and miserable fine,” he says, turning back to the helm, taking his stance with the wheel in his hands.

“You don’t understand. Can’t understand. I can’t be with her like this.”

“That’s the thing about secrets. No one can understand if we keep them to ourselves. And when no one understands, you get to feel that self-righteous certainty that you were right all along. It’s a self-perpetuating cycle, Kurt, and you’re deep into it.”

“You think you can help me?” Kurt spits out with venom.

He knows Kurt is challenging him, trying to call his bluff. Daring him to back down and walk away. But Vasco never backs down from a fight. Not so easy, Soldier.

“Not unless you let me in.”

“And then what?”

“First you have to talk to me. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I need to know why you hate yourself so much you would let the best thing that has ever happened to you slip through your fingers.”

“If I talk to you about this, you can never tell her or anyone else about it. Ever,” he adds as Vasco slowly nods.

“I swear, Kurt. On the sea.”

“Fine. Follow me.”

“Now?”

Kurt nods slowly, almost hesitant.

Vasco watches for a moment as Kurt strolls over and begins to climb down to the lower deck, his face twisted in a mixed expression of anger and fear. “Aleander!” he shouts without taking his eyes off of Kurt, and his first mate’s head, face surrounded by long black curls that just out from under his tricorne, pops up over the edge of the deck. Looking in the man’s direction, he says, “Take the helm until I return.”

“Yes, Captain.”

When he reaches the lower deck, he sees Kurt inside the hatch, waiting at his cabin door. “You going to invite me in, or what?”

Unlocking the door, Vasco enters, gesturing to the room, “Come in,” while peeling his coat and hat off and hanging them by the door.

Kurt follows closely behind as he steps through, closing and locking the door behind them. He motions to the sofa before he remembers that the blankets are still thrown over it. His face flushes and he quickly picks them up, tossing them into his bedroom, and seats himself in a chair waiting for Kurt to begin.

“Vasco, are you sure you want to see? That you want to know?” Kurt stands before him, his arms behind his back, conflicting expressions flashing across his face.

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need.”

Kurt stands there for a minute, likely contemplating whether he wants to go through with it, before he peels his shirt over his head, and Vasco gasps at the sheer number of scars on the man’s torso. White lines against lightly tanned skin. Rising from his chair, he approaches him carefully and slowly circles him to see his back, which is lined with marks from a whip.

“Wh-who did this to you, Kurt?”

At first, he says nothing. He opens and closes his mouth several times before a name finally seethes from his lips. “Major Hermann. And he did a lot more than this.”

“Why?”

“Punishment. Torture. Sadism,” he answers, shaking his head.

“Kurt, is it alright if I touch you?”

He fixes his jaw but nods.

Vasco feels the impressions of the scars in his skin and Kurt jumps at his touch. As he turns him around, he realizes there is hardly a place on his chest or back without some kind of mark. Staggering backward, he collapses back into the chair and covers his mouth with his fist, his eyes and nose stinging with unshed tears. “What happened to you?” he asks, barely above a whisper into his fist.

Vasco sits and listens silently, stomach turning in revulsion as Kurt details all the sadistic ways Hermann used and abused him and his fellow recruits. In the beginning it was simply humiliating them, starving them, depriving them of sleep. Breaking them down slowly without making them run, leaving them too weak to fight back. But, soon enough, the beatings had started. To keep the recruits from forming any kind of bonds to each other, Hermann forced them to report on and beat each other. When they tried to refuse, he punished them. Brutal beatings and whippings suffered in a remote camp with no way to seek help.

If that were all, it would be enough to condemn the Major, but, tragically, it’s not all. And this is the part that has Vasco nearly running to his bathroom as the bile creeps up his throat. Hermann came into their rooms, crawling into their beds at night and forcing them to do things with him. Children under his care. Children who trusted him. Who he wholly abused in every way imaginable.

For a moment, neither of them says anything. Kurt stands before him, broken and humiliated, one loud noise away from cracking under the strain. Arms wrapped around him, covering his suddenly too exposed skin.

“I’m so sorry, Kurt. For everything. You were right. I couldn’t even begin to understand.”

“You didn’t know,” he says with his eyes cast down and away.

“What about the nightmares?”

“I used to have constant nightmares after I left the camp.”

“Used to?”

“When I started training Constantin and de Sardet, they stopped. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t care. I was just grateful. I don’t know exactly why they started back up now, but I take it you’re familiar with your own library?”

Vasco nods, bewildered.

“I had the first one after finishing a book that de Sardet picked out for me. Titus Andronicus.”

“Kurt…” he chokes out, knowing that may be the worst book for someone with his kind of trauma to read while in such a delicate state.

“I dreamed my tongue had been cut out and my hands severed, and I woke up trying to say his name.” Kurt pauses and lets out a shuddering breath before continuing. “But that’s not even the worst of it.”

“Wh-what…,” Vasco stutters, unsure if he wants to know, “what’s the worst of it?”

“The night I ran from my cabin and woke you up, I dreamed…” he takes a deep breath and releases it in a shuddering gasp. “I dreamed that it wasn’t my room that Hermann was in.”

He already knows where this is going, and he wants to block it out. Shaking his head and closing his eyes, he steels himself.

“It was hers. And I was trying to stop him, but I couldn’t...”

Vasco leans back in his chair, head back, opening his eyes, and the tears finally roll down his cheeks. This is so much more traumatic than he could have ever imagined, and he has no idea how to help the man standing before him who just bared the darkest marks on his soul.

“And then she was there, on the balcony, her hand on my back, after…and I couldn’t bear it.”

Pulling his shirt back on, Kurt slumps into the sofa where de Sardet slept the night before, picking up the pillow and holding it in front of him like a shield, inhaling her scent that lingers in the fabric.

“You know you’re safe here, right? What is it that you’re so afraid of?”

For a moment, Kurt says nothing, almost rocking with the pillow gripped so tightly in his hands that his knuckles turn white. Vasco watches him carefully, expecting the man to bolt or break at any moment.

“What scares me the most is the thought that I’m just like him. I was her trainer, just like he was mine. I shouldn’t have feelings for her, but I do.”

“She’s a woman, Kurt, not a child.”

“She is now. But when I met her, she was only ten years old.”

“And how did you feel about her then?”

“She was my student. My best student. I was proud of her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. What that monster did to you, it wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t make you like him.”

“How can you know that for sure?”

“Because, if you were like him, you wouldn’t care.”

“Why didn’t I do anything to stop him then?”

“Kurt, you were just a child. Yet you somehow managed to survive. None of this makes you weak. It’s not your shame. It’s his.”

At this, Kurt finally breaks, and he quickly jumps from the couch, stepping towards Vasco, the pillow still held before him like a piece of armor. Standing, Vasco reaches out, grabs his shirt and pulls the man in, wrapping his arms around him and holding him as tight as he can. At first, Kurt stands there shaking in his arms, feeling to Vasco like a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment, but, after a few minutes, he feels his arms come up around his back as he presses his face into his shoulder.

Shocked he’s letting him get so close, Vasco then realizes the pillow is still there, held between their bodies by the force of holding each other. It’s so typical of the man, he would laugh if the moment was less somber or if he thought it would lighten the mood in any kind of helpful way. Instead, he holds Kurt for as long as he will continue to let him, wondering if he has ever let anyone do this before.

“Kurt, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve gone through over the years, on your own. Things aren’t going to change overnight, but you aren’t alone anymore.” When he feels him trying to pull away, Vasco releases his grip and steps back, moving to his bedroom and retrieving the blankets, using one to cover the cushion and tossing the other over the end of the sofa. “Stay here as long as you want. I have to go but I’ll come back and check in on you later?”

“You don’t have to do that, Vasco. I’ll get out of your way.”

“You are not in my way; I just have to see to my duties. Besides, I’m going to have Jonas fill the tub for you.”

“You really don’t have to go to that much trouble.”

“I know that. I want to.”

“Fine,” Kurt says with a hint of annoyance, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he reclines into the sofa, resting his head on the pillow.

Vasco shakes his head and pulls the other blanket up over Kurt’s chest before he heads for the door.

“Hey, Sailor?” Kurt calls out after him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Kurt,” Vasco replies softly as he steps through the door, but on the far side, he leans against the wall for support, head tilted back, his tricorne pushed up and slipping off of one side.

Everything makes sense now. He runs through the things he has said and done to Kurt in light of the horrors he confided in him. The way he keeps his distance from everyone. Not trusting the other men on the ship. No wonder the man trusts no one except for de Sardet and Constantin. It makes a strange sort of sense to him that the two cousins are also the reason he stopped having nightmares for so long. Kurt must have seen himself in them, wanted to protect them in a way no one had done for him. He had a purpose in their lives.

Taking a long, deep breath and releasing it, he stands and takes the stairs down, walking through the mess and into the kitchen where Solomon and Jonas are working on dinner. “When you have a minute, Jonas, can you fill the tub in my bath, please?”

Both men stare at him as if he’s lost his mind.

“It’s for Kurt, okay?”

Solomon raises his brows. “Never pegged the man for….”

“It’s not like that, Sol. He’s going through something and I’m trying to help him.”

He nods at Vasco. “Lad, go ahead and take care of it. I can handle this while you’re gone.”

As Jonas squeezes by him, Vasco grips Solomon’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says as he turns and heads back out of the mess.

As he starts to climb the stairs, he glances at de Sardet’s door thinking of what she must be going through right now. Unable to leave it that way, he turns and takes two strides to her door, knocking softly. When she opens the door, he can see that she’s been crying despite her attempt to hide it. “Can I come in for a moment?”

Her eyes narrow and she shakes her head.

“Please, de Sardet?”

She opens her door and steps back.

Vasco closes the door and leans against it. “I know Kurt said things to you this morning that must have you doubting everything.”

“He doesn’t feel the same way about me that I feel about him. He tried to tell me. I refused to listen…”

“You’re wrong. He does.”

Shaking her head, she looks down, a blush rising to her cheeks. “No, Vasco. I’ve thrown myself at him and I’ve acted a fool. I just hope one day he can forgive me and that we can be friends.”

Reaching out, Vasco places a hand on de Sardet’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Kurt is crazy about you, de Sardet. I know I’m not wrong.”

“How?”

“Because he is upstairs in my cabin right now sleeping on the same pillow you used last night.”

“I…I don’t understand. Why is he in your cabin?”

“I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t stand the idea of you sitting down here thinking whatever you’ve been thinking.”

“He wants me to move on.”

“No, he doesn’t. He wants to push you away, so you’ll move on because he doesn’t think there is any hope left for him. But you are that hope, de Sardet. Don’t give up on him. Please.”

“Why doesn’t he tell me this himself?”

“He can’t. And he doesn’t know I’m here. And I swore I would keep his confidence. I can’t break it. You’ll just have to trust me.”

She bites her lip for a moment considering his words. “I’ll try,” she nods, and opens her door. He steps out and she closes the door between them.

Vasco stands there for a moment looking at the closed door. Did he do enough? Did he say the right thing? Is it too late?

He sees Jonas return down the stairs with two large empty buckets and decides to slip quietly into Kurt’s room next door, grabbing a clean shirt and pants and slips back out again. He returns to his cabin to find Kurt sleeping restlessly.

Waiting at the door, he intercepts Jonas’ knock. “Just come in and out without knocking for now. Let him sleep,” he says quietly.

Jonas nods and carries the two large buckets of hot water to his bath, carefully dumping them into the tub before slipping back out the door silently.

In the bath, Vasco digs through his drawer for a new bar of soap, grabs a towel, and places them on the small stool next to the tub on top of his clothes.

Back in the sitting room, he paces slowly until he sees Kurt watching him with a slightly amused look on his face. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I was.”

“I hope you don’t mind but I went into your room, and I brought you a change of clothes which I left in the bath for you.”

“No, I don’t mind. Did you see her?”

Vasco steps closer. “I’m not going to lie to you, Kurt. I stopped by and I talked to her. I swore to you I would keep your confidence and I have. But I couldn’t stand the idea of her believing whatever you told her this morning.”

Sitting up, Kurt pushes the blanket away, rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you, again. Though I’m not sure I deserve any of this.”

“Kurt, despite the extreme brevity of our acquaintance, I consider you a friend. That’s the only reason I need.”

“How am I going to repay you?”

“Keeping me company is more than enough. I’ll be back in a while with dinner.”

“Okay, that really is taking things too far. I’m not an invalid.”

“I just feel like it might be best for you to stay away from everyone for now. For your own good, Kurt. You have everything you need here. There are books. The bath. The privy. I even have three balconies if you want to get some sun.”

“You want me to stay in your cabin?”

“If it makes you more comfortable, I can take your cabin and you can have mine to yourself.”

“Absolutely not. If I stay here, I don’t want to be in this place alone.”

“Okay. And I promise I’m not trying to…I would never betray your trust like that.”

The door opens and they both glance in that direction watching as Jonas enters with two more large buckets of hot water, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing in the sitting room. “Captain, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” he says as he passes back through the door.

“Well, enjoy the bath, and I’ll be back later,” Vasco says turning to leave.

“Wait.”

Vasco stops and turns back watching Kurt as he tries to find the words. “It’s okay Kurt.”

“I’m not…good at being friendly. The truth is I never gave it much of a chance. But I’m willing to try, Sailor.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much more practiced at it than you are, Soldier,” Vasco replies, giving Kurt’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning and leaving the cabin.

Back on deck, he climbs up to take the helm from his first mate.

“Everything okay, Cap?”

Vasco nods quietly, “Fine. Thank you.” He watches as Aleander climbs down to the lower deck, disappearing into the hatch, then prepares for a long day of sailing with the heft of his recent discoveries weighing on his shoulders.

That morning, after leading de Sardet back down to her cabin, while most of the crew was at breakfast, he had snuck down to the hold to look for the crates she had smuggled on board. Nothing particular stood out about the crates themselves, they looked much like other crates of merchandise in the hold. For a moment, he considered getting some help heaving them overboard in the middle of the night, but the manifest would then be even more suspect, and suspicion would then fall directly upon him. No, it’s best to feign ignorance at this point.

Now, the added weight of Kurt’s admissions. Though he knows the man is convinced he’s weak, Vasco finds himself amazed by the strength of the man, to carry such a heavy burden for so long, unsure how he would survive it himself.

Sometime after the dinner bell rings, Aleander climbs back up and takes the helm relieving him. “I might be a little while.”

“I can handle it, Captain. Don’t worry about a thing.”

He nods, clapping the man on the back, and climbs down to the lower deck, ducking through the hatch and down the stairs. In the kitchen, he grabs a tray and loads it with two bowls of shepherd’s pie and some rolls, and two mugs of ale. Solomon quickly tosses two spoons on the tray and Vasco thanks him as he backs carefully out of the kitchen and makes his way back out of the mess and up the stairs. He lightly kicks his door with the toe of his boot and waits for Kurt to come to the door.

“Let me take that,” Kurt says, lifting the tray from his hands and carrying it to the table in the sitting room.

Vasco seats himself in a chair and picks up a bowl and a mug placing them on the table before him, watching as Kurt picks up a spoon and passes it to him before picking up his own bowl and eating quietly for a while.

“Everything going okay?” Vasco finally asks with his eyes down.

Without looking up from the bowl in his hand, Kurt nods his head and grabs a roll, dipping it into his bowl before taking a bite. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I feel foolish hiding out here.”

“You’re not hiding out, Kurt. But, if you don’t want to be here, I understand. You don’t trust people. Especially men. And, after what happened yesterday, what I did yesterday, I can’t say I blame you.”

Kurt now looks up at Vasco with a screwed-up face, eyes drawn down in the middle in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asks as he places his empty bowl and mug back on the tray.

“When I grabbed your wrists and forced you back against the railing. Even without knowing…I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” Before Kurt can respond, Vasco is on his feet, grabbing the tray and backing toward the door. “I’ll be just a little while, but I’ll understand if you’re not here when I get back.” Stepping out the door, he climbs down to the bottom of the stairs, dragging his feet all the way.

Vasco returns the tray to the kitchen and Solomon takes one look at him and pulls him aside.

“Cap, you sure you’re not taking on more than you can handle?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Have you happened to look in a mirror lately?”

“That bad?”

“You’re a good man, Cap. I know you want to help this Coin Guard, but you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“I know. I will.”

It’s not the first time he’s tried to help someone, and had it blow up spectacularly, but it is the first time the stakes were so high. What Kurt is dealing with is so much bigger than anything he’s ever known. He trudges back through the empty mess hall, following the light of the single lamp hanging in the hall before the closed parlor doors and up the stairs, holding the rail and taking the steps one at a time in the low light.

Back in the cabin, Vasco sighs heavily when he sees no trace of Kurt. Damnit.

Jumping as a hand lands on his shoulder, he doubles over, hands on his knees. ‘Kurt…you scared the hell out of me! I thought you had left.”

Laughing, Kurt lifts his hand and steps back. “Sorry, I was bored. Started looking through your books in your office. I hope you don’t mind my looking around in there.”

“Not at all. It’s not as if I have any great secrets in there. Passenger and cargo manifests, things like that.”

“Uh, what you said before you tore out of here, I wanted to tell you that it’s okay. I’m okay. I had a kneejerk reaction, and I took a swing at you. You could have swung back, but you didn’t.”

“Because I first reached out and grabbed your wrist, just the kind of behavior you expect from men.”

“Vasco, you didn’t know and I’m no more or less broken for it. But you saw that something was wrong, and you alone set out to do something about it.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I’m not the only one who cares,” Vasco says as he seats himself in his chair as Kurt plops onto the sofa.

“You know why she can’t help me right now.”

Vasco nods. “So, what now?”

“I was going to ask you the same.”

“Well, I can’t imagine you being happy sitting in here doing nothing all day. What do you do besides read, Kurt?”

“I would play cards sometimes with the other guards when I had time. Drink at the tavern once in a while. Train with de Sardet or Constantin. Sometimes train recruits at the barracks.”

An idea strikes Vasco. A way for Kurt to find balance. “Is there anything repetitive that you do?”

“Maintaining my sword?”

“That’s good. When you do that, do you ever just let yourself stop thinking and lose yourself in the movement? That’s kind of like meditation. I think it might be good for you to try it. At the worst you get a little quiet time, at best you find a centering exercise.”

“That’s fine, except my sword and my whetstone and oil are downstairs in my room.”

“I can get them. Or you can if you want. I’m not holding you prisoner here, Kurt.”

“I know that.”

“As late as it is, no one is going to be up and around anyway except for the night watch up on deck. Come on,” he says as he gestures to the door, rising and crossing the room, twisting the lock and opening it.

Kurt jumps up and quickly ducks into the bathroom grabbing his old clothes then follows closely behind down the darkened stairs and to the hall where his cabin is. While he enters his room, Vasco opens the parlor doors and digs through the bookcase drawers for extra cards, dice, and dominoes. He grabs a few volumes of Shakespeare from the shelf that would be safe for Kurt to read and removes back to the hall waiting patiently by the cabin door as the man rummages around inside.

When Kurt reemerges, he is holding his sword, whetstone, a bottle of oil, and a polishing cloth on top of a change of clothes, his eyebrows raised as if seeking permission.

Vasco smiles and shakes his head at the man before he leads him back to the stairs up the two flights back to his cabin landing, stepping through the door and lightly kicking it closed behind them. “I brought these up from the parlor,” he says, shrugging off his coat and hanging it next to his hat by the door before laying the games on the table.

Kurt looks down at the load in his arms and asks, “Where should I put this?”

Vasco glances around for a moment. “I suppose you could put your clothes in the bath if that would make you more comfortable. And the rest, you could put here on the table.”

He watches as Kurt takes his clothes into the bathroom and then comes back to the sitting room and gently places the sword and other items on the table.

“What are those books?” Kurt asks warily.

Vasco walks over to where Kurt stands and holds the books out before him. “These are a few of my favorite comedies by Shakespeare.”

Kurt tilts his head and reads the titles aloud. “A Midsummer Night’s Eve, The Tempest, As You Like It. She was reading that one yesterday,” he says taking the book from Vasco’s hand and sinking into the sofa with the book in his hands.

Vasco leaves the other books on the bookshelf behind his chair and ducks into his office, grabbing the bottle of rum and two glasses, bringing them back to the table and taking a seat. He pours a very small amount of rum into each glass, pushing one in Kurt’s direction, watching as he lifts it to his mouth and takes a sip, nodding as he places the glass back on the table.

Vasco gestures to the sword and Kurt picks it up, grabbing the whetstone and drawing it down the blade with slow and precise strokes, creating a long, pleasant grazing sound with each pass. Then he takes the cloth and adds some oil, polishing the blade in long smooth passes. When he finishes, Vasco passes him the dagger he keeps hidden in his right boot, watching as he continues with the whetstone, running it down the steel edge before polishing it with the oiled cloth. When Kurt stops, he sits silently for several minutes before he passes the dagger back and lays the whetstone and cloth on the table next to his sword.

“Usually, I have so much on my mind, I’ve never thought about what I was doing before, just going through the motions, but it is calming.”

“Maybe when you feel like things are getting overwhelming, you can try it. Or try getting into that frame of mind at least.”

Nodding, Kurt smirks. “That’s good, Sailor. I’ll have to teach it to the recruits on the island.”

“I hope it helps. Sometimes, when I’m sailing, I just let my mind go blank, let the sound of the sails snapping in the wind and the sea breaking against the ship carry me.”

“You like poetry, don’t you?”

“Nothing gets past you.”

“Nor you.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, slowly sipping from their glasses of rum. And it’s comfortable and peaceful. Vasco finally breaks the silence by refilling both their glasses, the bottle clinking against the glass. He stands and opens his bedroom door, walking to the very back and opening the balcony doors looking to where Kurt sits on the sofa and motioning with his head for him to join him. Vasco watches as he stands and reluctantly walks through his bedroom out to the balcony gripping the rail so tightly his fingers turn white.

“I have a stargazer,” he suggests.

“I appreciate you trying to entertain me, but I’m sure I can find something to keep myself busy.”

“Have you ever looked through a stargazer, Kurt?”

“Never.”

Vasco raises his brows and strides over to his closet, pulling the large blue and silver stargazer out and carrying it propped over his shoulder, spreading the legs of the tripod as he steps back out and stands it on the balcony floor. He eyes the sky for a moment and looks through the eyepiece as he turns dials and knobs, before stepping back and gesturing to Kurt.

Leaning against the doorframe, he watches as Kurt leans gingerly toward the stargazer, his eye adjusting to the lens. “Is that the moon?”

“Aye. What do you think of it?”

“It’s incredible.”

“You should see the sun.”

Kurt lifts his face from the lens and stares at Vasco. “How?”

“I have a piece of black glass you put over the end of the barrel. Makes it safe.”

“What about the stars?” he asks, pointing out at the starlit sky.

“The sun is the only star close enough to view with this stargazer. There are observatories that let you see other nearby stars, but with this one, the best I can do is find a few nearby celestial bodies and their moons. When the weather and their positions cooperate, of course.”

“I’m impressed.”

Vasco clutches his hand to his heart in a mocking gesture and Kurt smirks as he turns and walks back to the sitting room. Carefully tucking the stargazer safely back in his closet, he follows behind him sinking into his chair, one leg draped over the arm, glass of rum in hand, while Kurt seats himself into the sofa.

“If only I had someone to share it with.”

“Do Nauts get married?”

Interesting line of question he thinks. “Some do. Though it’s not easy to leave someone behind for months at a time. But I’m sure you understand that being a Coin Guard.”

“I’ve never had anyone to leave behind. You?”

“I’ve had a few lovers in my life, Kurt, if that’s what you mean, but nothing very long term.”

“Why not?”

“Because this is a difficult life, and few people are willing to try it. And…if I loved someone that much, I couldn’t leave them behind.”

“I guess I understand that.”

“Coin Guards, from what I know, seem to prefer the brothels. Is that more your thing?’

“I’m, uh, let’s just say it’s not my style.”

“Wait…never?”

“You’ve seen my scars. And I’ve seen the way people react to them. Who would want me?”

“Kurt, I wasn’t repulsed by you, but by what was done to you. Your scars aren’t ugly. You’re an incredibly handsome man.”

“Sure, Sailor,” he replies, rubbing the scar in his brow.

“I mean it. If you were inclined to be interested in me…” he says as his eyes travel over the man’s muscular frame.

Kurt stares at him silently for a long moment.

“Look, I’m not making a pass at you. Even if there were a possibility, I would never do that to de Sardet. But you should know that you’re very easy on the eyes, Kurt.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever described me in that way before.”

“I hope it doesn’t make things awkward.”

He appears to think for a moment and finally says, in a reassuring voice, “No. If I were inclined, I could certainly do a lot worse. As it is, I suppose I’m flattered.”

“So, as I’ve established that your scars are not the problem, why haven’t you ever…?”

Kurt draws in a long breath and sighs. “I didn’t want anyone to touch me for the longest time after...and sometimes I still don’t. I had the nightmares and then I had de Sardet and Constantin.”

“Kurt, you do know that none of what that monster did to you was your fault?”

“He had a way of making you feel like you had it coming, whatever it was.”

“And you know that was self-serving for him, right?”

“It’s easy to say these things. It’s a hell of a lot harder to believe them.”

“Believe this, Kurt. If I ever meet this evil bastard, I’ll kill him.”

“Not if I find him first…”

“Do you think that would help? Finding him? Serving him some well-deserved justice?” Vasco asks, tipping his glass up and finishing it before pouring a little more into both glasses.

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t be simple. He’s a Major and he has friends in high places in the Guard. It won’t be easy to get to him and there will be consequences. But I’m already living in hell so…”

“What about de Sardet?”

“What about her?”

“Well, Kurt, if you end up locked up in a cell for the rest of your life, where does that leave her?”

He takes a sip of rum and closes his eyes. “See? That is exactly why I’ve tried to keep my distance. Hermann is going to pay for what he did and I’m the only one who will see to it.”

“Maybe there’s a way to make him pay without you having to suffer more.”

“Soldiers don’t deal in maybes.”

“Okay, Kurt, when we reach Tir Fradi, I will help you try to find him if I can, but when you do find him, swear to me that you won’t run out and do something brash. We can figure out a way to put him in a hole without it touching you.”

Kurt stares at him for a long time, his face cycling through emotions before settling on something akin to disbelief. “How is that going to work when you ship back out?”

“I won’t be at sea forever. Just a few months and I’ll be back.”

“Why would you take the risk for me?”

“Because you don’t deserve to keep suffering at his hands. Because de Sardet deserves to be happy with you. Because he should never be allowed to hurt anyone else. Because no one else will make sure he pays.”

“Okay, Sailor. You swore an oath to me, I will swear one to you. When I find him, I won’t just go kill him. I’ll ask for help.”

“Thank you. Now, let’s get that out of our minds. Talk about anything else before lights out.”

Kurt kicks his boots off next to the couch and slides down, resting his head on the pillow that still smells faintly of de Sardet. “What’s it like being a Naut?”

“Depends on the day. Some days it’s dreadfully boring. Especially when docking and I’ve nothing to do but wait for unloading. Storms are often a little too exciting. Dangerous. But, in between, most days are calm, and I get to sail my ship across the sea, steering her over the currents as she tugs against me. Fighting for control.”

“In a way, we’re not that unalike. Sitting in the barracks before a mission, the waiting, it’s nerve wracking. You just want to do something. Anything. Then, when you’re in the thick of it, watching comrades fall…But the best days for me were always the days when I was training those two brats.”

“Aw, Kurt, you’re just a softie at heart.”

“I am not. And don’t you dare tell them I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he says as he rises from his chair and puts out the lantern, returning to his bedroom.

Instead of changing, he sinks into his bed and tries to get the thought of Major Hermann out of his head. What he did to Kurt was vile, but that he might still be doing the same to new recruits, children under his care…Vasco shudders and turns to his side toward the sitting room. Kurt is out of his line of sight, but he hears him shifting on the sofa, unable to settle down and sleep. Vasco wonders what he’s thinking about now. Hermann? Or maybe de Sardet? Whatever it is, he hopes his sleep will be peaceful, no bad dreams.

Tonight, no banging, no coin guards ready to throw themselves overboard. Just the usual rocking of the ship which lulls him quickly to a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt wakes in the morning on Vasco’s sofa where Elizabeth had slept the night before, the blanket covering him entirely and his head tucked into the pillow, inhaling her fading scent as he opens his eyes. Light filtering in signals morning and he rubs his face with his hands, shifting as he stretches his aching limbs, a soft groan escaping his throat. It seems to him that the nicer a sofa looks the less comfortable it actually is to sleep on all night long.

All night long. No nightmares. It may be coincidence, or it may be finally telling someone everything. Hoping it is the latter as it seems to be working, at least so far, Kurt lets out a deep sigh of relief.

Suddenly the corner of the blanket is peeled back, allowing the light in as Vasco’s face appears above him. “Morning, Kurt.”

Kurt clears his throat and mutters, “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“If you’re talking about nightmares, yes, I slept well. Thank you.” He keeps the fact that sleeping on the sofa is little better than sleeping on hard ground to himself.

“Don’t mention it. I went down and got us both coffee,” he says gesturing to the mug on the table as he sinks into his chair.

Kurt sits up slowly and picks up the mug, lifting it to his mouth, blowing gently before taking a sip. “Good.”

“It should be. It’s Constantin’s,” he says with a light chuckle as he takes another sip.

“Knowing our young future governor, I’m sure he brought enough for an army.”

“I have to go soon but I wondered…do you want to go to the mess hall for breakfast? Or I can have some brought up for us.”

“As much as I don’t want to hide out, I don’t want to run into de Sardet right now either. And I especially don’t want to run into Constantin.”

“Constantin? Why not?”

“Something he said about you the other day.”

One of Vasco’s brows raises in confusion. “Me?”

“He said I should expand my horizon. That you would be helpful in that endeavor.”

“Ah, I see. And you don’t want to give him the idea that you followed his advice.”

“No, Vasco. I just don’t want him making assumptions about you.”

Vasco’s face cycles between a look of confusion and gratitude.

“I was wrong about you, and I was wrong about the Nauts.”

“Wrong? In what way?”

“When we first met, all I knew were rumors. The drinking, the, uh…”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before. And if not that, then it’s being compared to pirates, thieves, and thugs.”

“If I’m being honest, I was also a little jealous. I could see de Sardet slipping further away from me and there you were, with your golden eyes and your tattoos.”

Vasco’s raises his brows again as he looks down at his chest and hands. “Is that what that scowling was all about?”

“Scowling?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you shooting daggers at me, Kurt. The last day in Serene. You were across the way watching me like a hawk, an obvious scowl on your face.”

“Oh, that. I didn’t know you then. That doesn’t make it right, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure the rumors about Coin Guards are about the same and just as wrong”

“They are, but there’s also the coin itself. The only thing that matters to us. Fact is, the rumors about the Guard aren’t far off the mark, Vasco.”

Nodding, Vasco smiles and says, “I could say the same about the Nauts. And I have. Rumors are rumors for a reason, Kurt. They usually contain at least a grain of truth. And the rumors about the Congregation, the Bridge Alliance and Thélème are no less scandalous.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, Sailor, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, if you could have heard what I was thinking when I met de Sardet…”

“Not sure I want to.”

“Nothing like that. I just didn’t have a good opinion of nobility at the time. I still don’t when it comes to nobility in general, but I did come to realize that maybe all nobles aren’t so bad. She and Constantin were…unexpected.”

Kurt snorts and laughs, nodding his head. “Unexpected. If I had to choose one word that describes the two of them, I couldn’t do better than that.”

“You really do care for both of them, don’t you?”

“When surrounded by darkness, the light draws you in.”

“Like a moth to a flame…” He claps Kurt on the back as he stands and shoulders on his coat, setting his hat on his head. “I do have to go, but I’ll have breakfast brought up.” Strolling back to the door, he passes through, closing it firmly behind him.

Kurt looks around the sitting room at the disarray of his presence. The overflowing table, the blankets strewn across the sofa and lying half on the floor. Standing, he picks up the blankets and folds them neatly, leaving them stacked at the other end of the sofa. Picking up the games, he carries them to the bookshelves, finding an open space for them. Just leaving his sword and whetstone, which he carries to Vasco’s office and places on the desk for now.

Back in the sitting room, he picks up the book Elizabeth had been reading from the table and settles into the sofa to read until Vasco returns.

When he hears Vasco gently tapping at the door with a boot, Kurt drops the book on the sofa and crosses to let him in, closing the door softly behind him. He follows along and takes his place on the sofa, picking up a plate from the tray and digging in.

“The crew must be thinking some interesting thoughts.”

“Not as interesting as Constantin.”

“I told you.”

“Don’t worry, I set him straight. Told him a pipe was leaking into your room.”

“I take it you’ve never had anyone share your cabin before?”

“No. I have not,” he replies with a hint of sadness to his voice.

“Is it not allowed?”

“I don’t own the ship, but it is mine. I can share my cabin with whomever I please. I’ve just never had occasion before to share anything but my bed.”

“What about Constantin?”

“What about him?”

“Is he anything to you?” Realizing how invasive the question is, Kurt quickly shifts gears. “I’m sorry, that’s rather personal. You don’t need to answer that.”

“After everything you’ve told me? Kurt, I’m neither shy nor ashamed of my desires. Constantin is an excellent person to share a bed with, he’s one of the only two nobles I’ve met who I could stand to have around, but he’s not someone I could share my life with.”

Kurt smirks. He knows just what Vasco means. “Have you seen de Sardet?”

“Honestly, Kurt, she hasn’t left her room much that I can tell.”

“That’s my fault.”

Vasco shakes his head and looks away from Kurt’s face. “Not entirely. I feel like I share some responsibility for the awful advice I gave you about letting her go.”

Kurt waves him off. “Maybe I should go speak to her.”

“And say what? I’m sorry but I’m still not ready to be a part of your life?”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m as broken as ever.”

“You’re not broken, Kurt. You’ve been hurt just about as badly as a person can be. I told you it wouldn’t happen overnight. You need to give it more time. She’s not going to run into the arms of someone else despite what she might have said about moving on.”

“No, she won’t.”

“What’s her favorite thing to eat? That we could make with what we have on board?”

He thinks back to the desserts in the palace, the way Elizabeth always reached for the ones with lemons or blackberries. “Some kind of pie?”

“Pie? Really?

“She likes the way the tartness of the fruit contrasts with the sweetness and saltiness of the crust.” He can see her delicate lips pull in a tiny bite, her tongue rolling it around her mouth.

Vasco’s brows rise suggestively. “I’ll talk to Solomon. See if he can whip up something special. Send it to her with your regards.”

“Am I to win her back by plying her with desserts?”

“If that’s what it takes. Trust me, it will work better than rum. She can’t hold her liquor.”

Laughing, Kurt finishes his breakfast and stacks his plate on top of Vasco’s on the tray, knocking back the rest of his juice and placing the mugs next to the plates. “She’s never been much of a drinker. When Constantin would drag her out, she would spend most of the time keeping him out of trouble. Drink is fine on occasion, but I’ve seen what it can do when you let it get out of control.”

“Not a stranger to that myself. I’ve seen many a good sailor ruined by their love of drink. I honestly don’t know how you’ve managed so long without getting lost in the drink. You’re a stronger man than I.”

“Strong? Perhaps with a sword.”

“No. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met, Kurt. Being strong, like being brave, doesn’t mean you aren’t scared. It doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting. I’ve seen lesser men turn into exactly the thing they hate. But not you.”

“Couldn’t afford to with those two to look after…”

“Listen, Soldier, you are a good man. You are kind and thoughtful. And she’s just as fortunate as you are.”

“Thank you, Sailor.”

“I better return this to the kitchen. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He watches Vasco walk away and slip through the door in his quiet and graceful manner as he reclines back into the sofa. The Captain has his own restrained strength about him, stronger than he would at first appear to be, he thinks he would like to challenge him to a sparring match on deck sometime.

Kurt has often been told he was strong in the training yard or in the field. No one has ever told him he was strong on the inside. Fear makes you weak. Only cowards feel fear. That’s what they drill into your head in training. It never occurred to him that it took strength and bravery to fight in the face of fear. All the time he spent feeling weak and useless, he never drank away his senses or lashed out and hurt others. He watched over Elizabeth and Constantin, keeping them safe from people like Hermann. Taught them to fight with honor.

Hermann was wrong. He’s not like him. The realization hits him with the weight of a hammer, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Air…fresh air…he scans the cabin franticly. The bedroom and the office feel too much like Vasco’s personal space so he quickly jogs to the bathroom and opens the balcony doors leaning out over the rail, inhaling the salty air.

Down below, he spots Elizabeth on the balcony, sitting prettily on a pillow and reading a book, a few strands of loose hair tucked behind her ear. Leaning on his forearms, he watches her quietly as he continues to breathe in the fresh air. Rays of sunlight filter through the clouds and fall on her skin and hair, creating a golden halo.

For the first time, he feels like he could touch her and not feel ashamed. He could hold her and not feel wrong. He could kiss her and not feel unclean.

Kurt hears the cabin door open and closes the balcony door before de Sardet can catch him watching her.

“Kurt?”

“Sorry, I was out on the balcony,” he says as he steps out of the bathroom and into the sitting room.

“By all means. I’m glad someone is making use of them.”

“Forget something?”

“No, I spoke with Solomon, and he said he could perhaps whip up something for de Sardet tonight. Also, it’s not something I do often, but I sometimes keep my hands busy by making shapes from paper. I could show you how to make a flower if you think that’s something de Sardet would like.”

“Blue.”

“Blue?”

“Flowers. It’s her favorite color.”

“Forget-me-nots. They’re blue.” Vasco searches his shelf and pulls out a large book handing it to Kurt. “Look in the back for the flower and it will tell you which pages to find it on.”

“Thank you, Sailor.”

“There’s paper in one of my desk drawers in my office. Help yourself and I’ll be back later.”

He mutters, “Thank you,” again without looking up from the book in his lap.

Flipping to the back, he finds an alphabetical list and thumbs to the page with f, following down until he finds forget-me-nots. When he turns to the page indicated, he sees step by step directions for making one. “Doesn’t seem too difficult. I’ve made lots of things with my hands.”

Standing, he leaves the book on the sofa and walks into the office and around the desk, opening the drawer where he finds Vasco’s rum. Under the bottle and glasses is a heap of paper in different colors and he lifts the entire stack out, carrying it back to the sitting room and placing it on the table before him.

Confidently pulling out a soft blue paper, he begins to follow the directions and turns out a total disaster. “Damn. I did exactly what it said!” It looks more like a sea monster than a flower. Having learned his lesson on getting cocky, he finds plain white paper to practice with for the next flower, which turns out only moderately better.

“What am I doing wrong?”

When working with wood or steel, he’s in his element. But this unwieldy delicate paper…

“I can’t force it with brute strength…” he says to himself as he drops the ruined paper and picks up another blue sheet, this time making careful folds and bends, thinking about the next step before he reaches it. By the end, he has in his hand something at least resembling a flower.

One after the other, he makes paper forget-me-nots in a range of blue shades. Over a dozen all told. Some nearly perfect and some only passing, delicate things like butterfly wings all made with his rough soldier’s hands.

When Vasco enters the room, Kurt is staring down at his hands, which he balls into fists and opens again.

“Everything okay, Kurt?” he asks as he places the tray beside the stack of paper.

He nods, lifting one of the flowers for Vasco’s inspection.

“I’m impressed. Just a minute,” he says as he steps into his office. The muffled sound of a drawer opening and closing a moment later drifts out as he steps back into the sitting room. “I keep a stash of pipe cleaners in the back of the drawer.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t. But these are perfect to use as flower stems and I’ve had occasion to impress a lady or two on my ship with a bouquet now and then.”

“That does seem more plausible.”

Vasco sits in his chair and ignores their dinner while the two of them attach a stem to each flower except for the first two, which tease a hearty laugh out of the Naut when he discovers them pushed back near the blankets at the end of the sofa. “Should we send these as well?”

“Enough. Hand them over.”

When he reaches out, Vasco drops them into his hand watching as he tosses them onto the table.

“So, Solomon has a lemon tart he made for de Sardet but we didn’t know if you wanted to deliver it yourself or send it with Jonas with your regards.”

“I don’t know.”

“Kurt, if you don’t mind my saying so, I think you should be the one.”

“What about what you said earlier?”

“You wouldn’t be showing up empty handed. The point is to make an apology.” He nods and watches as Vasco pulls a coiled blue and silver ribbon from his pocket. “I’ll go and get it while you tie this ribbon around those. Do not ask me why I have that.”

Smirking, Kurt takes the ribbon and fashions a serviceable bow around the bouquet, feeling a little foolish and a lot anxious, his stomach fluttering in a way that reminds him of both being ill and being aroused. That done, he picks up the book and places it back on the shelf, glancing at the other books nearby, more paper folding books. Sea animals, ships, stars. Smiling, he takes the two terrible flowers and places them on top of the books for Vasco to find later.

At the sound of the door opening, he steps up and takes the tart, standing there impatiently while Vasco straightens his shirt and his hair, appraising his person with a shrug. “Go. Win her back, Kurt.”

Stepping out the door, he feels entirely out of his depth having spent the last 24 hours, he may as well face the truth, in hiding. With a deep breath and a sigh, he takes the stairs one step at a time, his heart beating wildly in his chest, growing louder in his ears with every step. At the bottom, seeing no one around, he stands before her door for a moment before deciding to knock at the balcony door instead, wanting privacy in a neutral space. After he makes his way around, he works up the courage to knock before tucking the flowers and the tart behind his back.

When the door opens, de Sardet’s eyes blink several times, widening as her mouth opens and closes but only a soft sigh escapes.

Her hair flows around her shoulders and he wants to wrap one of the luscious locks around his finger. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Greenblood, can I speak with you?”

She motions for him to come inside.

He gently shakes his head. “Out here.”

She steps through her open door and leans against the rail putting some distance between them. “Alright, Kurt,” she says, her voice soft and fragile.

“What I said yesterday, it…I know I hurt you. I didn’t want to, but I thought I was doing the right thing. To protect you. From me.”

“I understand that you feel like you can’t talk to me about your past. And I respect that. But I wish you would talk to me about what’s happening now.”

“I’m trying. I can’t tell you how awful things were the other night but I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve that.”

She stares at him with misty eyes, her hands tucked behind her back, mirroring his own.

“I have no excuses to offer you. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am and that you mean so much to me. I know it doesn’t make up for what I did, but I brought you something…a gift.”

“You brought me a gift?”

He pulls his hands from behind his back, presenting the flowers and the tart with a tiny flourish.

“Where did you get those?”

‘Solomon made the tart. But…I made the flowers.”

“Y…you made me flowers?” she asks as she takes them from his hand, her fingers brushing his.

The first physical contact they’ve had since the night he stormed out of his room after that unspeakable nightmare, a sensation spreads over his skin, like every hair is standing on end, charged by her touch.

“Forget-me-nots…” they say simultaneously.

Kurt reaches nervously into her cabin, setting the tart on the desk before he continues, “I’m not expecting to be forgiven, Greenblood. Certainly not right away. I wouldn’t presume to buy you off with paper flowers and dessert.”

“Kurt…”

“All I’m asking for is time. To make it up to you. To prove myself to you. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking anyway. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”

She says nothing for a long moment, inhales deeply and lets out a focused breath. “If you need to hear it, you’re forgiven. But the truth is, there’s nothing to forgive. You tried to tell me and I refused to listen. I made you push me away because I didn’t give you the time and space you needed.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

Stepping forward, she reaches through the open door and places the flowers on the desk. Then she reaches up, her hands on either side of his face, pulling him toward her, pressing her forehead to his. “Whatever you need, you have it. Whatever I can do to help, I will. And when you’re ready, I’ll be there for you.”

Kurt closes his eyes, and his hands settle over hers. He can almost taste her, she’s so close. Close enough to kiss, to hold in his arms. But, for now, this is more than enough. Afraid to speak and break the spell, he stands still waiting for her to let go first.

“Kurt?”

‘Yes, Greenblood?”

She finally pulls her face back and lowers her hands, intertwining their fingers, leaving his face chilled without her warmth.

“Please don’t push me away again.”

“I can’t promise that there won’t be a time when I just need to be alone. But I’ll try to be better about it.”

She places one hand over his heart, his eyes darting to her delicate hand, before she backs into her cabin and closes the door, still watching him through the window.

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight.”

For a moment, he stands, stunned, outside her door, a chill running over his flesh, then he glances at the windows where Elizabeth smiles warmly at him and he nods and smiles back before turning on his heels and rushing back through the parlor and up the stairs to Vasco’s cabin, walking right in without knocking.

“You know, I thought I would be able to tell right away how it went by the look on your face, but…”

Kurt walks over calmly and sinks down into the sofa staring at the tray of food on the table. “You didn’t need to wait for me. Eat.”

“Are you kidding me? How did it go?”

“Good. I think.”

“Your stoic nature is vexing Soldier,” Vasco replies as he lifts his plate and begins to eat his meal quietly.

“Apologies.”

“No, I apologize. It’s not my business.”

“It’s not that. I just worry that I’m rushing things and maybe I’m not ready to be taking a step in that direction.”

“Did you make any promises? Any guarantees?”

“No…”

“Did she make any demands?”

“No.”

“Then eat your dinner and let yourself be happy, man!”

Nodding, with a smile, Kurt picks up his own plate and digs into his meal. They eat quietly without talking. Kurt knocks back his ale when he’s finished and sets his plate on the tray with Vasco’s. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I’ll run this down and then I have to do the nightly procedure, locking the ship down, and I’ll be back.”

Kurt picks up the book as Vasco leaves, taking up where he left off.

When Vasco returns, he brings two tarts with him. “Solomon ended up making a large cobbler for the crew and a few extra tarts for the officers.”

“I’m not an officer.”

‘Not with the Nauts, but you are an officer with the Guard,” he says as he places the tart in his hand.

“Thank you, Sailor.”

Vasco reaches out and tilts the volume in Kurt’s other hand. “As You Like It,” he reads aloud, lifting the book from his hand and thumbing to a page, reading aloud.

“Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth.”

“This is the second time I have had Shakespeare quoted at me on this ship because I’m a soldier.”

“Now you’ve got my curiosity piqued.”

“One day de Sardet said something about where a soldier lies. And stabbing.”

“Tis stabbing to say a soldier lies.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Kurt, I do believe she has you pegged.”

“And you?”

“Well, you do make strange oaths. You have the beginnings of a beard. Strong and brave as a jungle cat. Seeking honor. Quick to anger. Risking danger to prove yourself.”

Kurt laughs and nods his head in agreement. “I suppose.”

“In truth, that’s an unfair comparison. That’s only part of the monologue, which is actually about the seven ages of man. The soldier represents the young man.”

“I know. But it is a fair assessment, Sailor.”

“When I first saw you, I thought you tough and impassive. And then, I realized you were anything but when I saw the way you looked at de Sardet, the way you comforted her on the docks after…that unfortunate business with the creature. I honestly believed you were about to tear into me over that.”

“Stop troubling yourself over it. You aren’t responsible for what the Nauts accept as cargo.”

“I misjudged de Sardet and Constantin…but I misjudged you most of all, Kurt.”

“And I you. I consider myself fortunate to call you my friend.”

Vasco tilts his head. “The feeling is mutual, Soldier. So, how are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I feel like I’ve had a small breakthrough…I guess you would call it.”

Vasco raises his brows. “What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Kurt glances down at his hands, anywhere but Vasco’s eyes. “In training, we were taught that fear is weakness. Fear is for cowards. A good soldier doesn’t fear.”

“Kurt…

“But, today, you showed me that what they taught me was a lie. That you can’t truly be brave if you have no fear.”

“You are the bravest man I know, Kurt.”

“That…” he begins, shaking his head.

“I’m not just saying that. Telling me what happened to you, trusting me with that, living the way you do every day with honor…that is the bravest thing I have ever seen.”

“I…I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that. Because I get the distinct impression that you have no idea just how amazing you are.”

Kurt shifts uncomfortably on the sofa under Vasco’s gaze. It’s not the fact that the man finds him attractive or the way he looks at him, but, rather, the sincerity of his words that makes him uneasy.

“Settle down, Soldier. I meant nothing by it.”

“I’m not bothered by your affinity, Sailor. I’m just not accustomed to such candor and praise.”

“Without some expectation attached?”

Kurt says nothing but the words ring true. Too true.

“You want to know what I think is the most courageous act of all?”

“What is that?”

“Love. There are only two ways it can end. In bitter disappointment or in loss. And when you dive in anyway, that is the greatest act of courage.” Vasco stands and squeezes his shoulder gently before he walks out of the room to his bed.

Thinking on his words, Kurt leaves the thickest blanket folded but spreads it lengthwise over the sofa to add some cushion, hoping it will make it more comfortable to sleep there. He pulls the other blanket over him and settles in with his arms folded under his head.

If love is an act, then it must be more than just words. Comfort. Warmth. Affection. These long held memories are all he knows of love. The love of a prostitute, a kind and gentle woman by the name of Rose Warner, who cared for him when no one else would. Until he was ripped from her arms and sent away.

Chosen by that filthy pig, Hermann, only a few years later. He probably would have died by his own hand or gone to ruin if not for being chosen again by some miracle by the Prince to train and watch over his son and his niece. That was when the nightmares stopped. When he stopped feeling like he would do anything to end it because he had found something else to live for. Unexpectedly.

And she saved him. All the comforts he once received from Rose, he now gets from Elizabeth, and he wants to be those things for her too. He loves her for it and the understanding is as unexpected as she was. He loves her. Unexpectedly.

Kurt pulls the blanket over his head and rolls to his side. He loves her. Closing his eyes, he pictures her on the balcony that afternoon, golden under the sun. He loves her. Soon, he drifts off to sleep.

That night, he dreams of her. Elizabeth, who shows him kindness when no one else does. In his dream, she pretends to be a man to escape the clutches of her uncle and when they meet again in a forest, she tries to convince him not to love her, but he knows his Greenblood and loves her still. Unexpectedly.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth watches Kurt as he smiles warmly at her from the balcony, his eyes wild like a stormy sky, before he turns, still watching as he disappears beyond the reach of her windows. He so rarely smiles, but, when he does, she feels like it’s meant for only her. As if they’re the only two people in the world in that moment.

Standing there with him only a moment ago, so intimately, she wanted so much to pull him into her room and guide him to her bed, and he would have come, but he’s not ready yet. Something in his past stands between them, keeping him from being able to give himself to her in the way he wants to. But at least she knows now that he’s trying.

Picking up the bouquet of blue paper flowers, she instinctively lifts them to her nose. They have the very distinct scent of wood and metal and oil. Most women would be put off by it, but, for Elizabeth, it’s like having Kurt near her. A feeling she has often missed in the days since they left Serene.

She lifts the tart from the desk and carries both over to her bed, sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the headboard, raising the tart to her nose. It smells better than any treat she ever received at the palace. When she takes a small bite, the tangy lemon bursts on her tongue, mingling with the perfectly balanced sweet and salty crust.

“Mmmm…” she moans to herself, savoring the flavors as the crust melts on her tongue.

Solomon might have made the tart, but she knows, somehow, that Kurt was the one who knew exactly what she would like. Like the blue flowers, her favorite color. He knows more about her than he realizes. This man. Even with the crumbling walls and the distance between them, he still somehow manages to reach her and hold her heart. And, even if he believes otherwise, she knows it is safe in his hands.

After the last succulent bite of the tart, she slips down under her covers, laying the flowers on the pillow next to her, and turns to her side watching the stars through her window, falling into a peaceful sleep.

As morning breaks, Elizabeth welcomes the sunlight streaming through her windows, and, for the first time in days, looks forward to getting out of her cabin. Picking the flowers up from the bed beside her, she breathes in the familiar scent again, rises and crosses back to the windows, leaving the bouquet safely on the desk. At the washstand, she pins her hair up into the loose twist she now wears before she quickly changes and slips on her boots, ducking through the door.

Crossing the hall, she knocks on Sir de Courcillon’s door, waiting for him to answer or send her away.

“Lady de Sardet, what can I do for you?”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Some. I thank you for all the trouble you’ve gone to in trying to make me more comfortable, but you certainly don’t need to. Go. Enjoy the time away from the books and responsibilities. It won’t last, you know.”

She nods and turns towards the stairs as the door closes softly behind her.

She knows. Time is fleeting. Even though they’ve only been aboard the ship for eight days, every passing day is one day closer to Tir Fradee and one less day to spend getting closer to Kurt. A month and a half is all that stands between them and their responsibilities.

Make the most of it, she hears her mother say inside her head, sending a fresh wave of aching numbness through her. Bracing her hand against the nearby wall, Elizabeth breathes in and out slowly, calming herself before the tears can come, sniffing at the bitter sting in her nose.

Shouting and cheers suddenly erupt on deck, distracting her from her grief and drawing her up the stairs and out through the hatch. Just a few meters away, Kurt and Vasco circle each other. Her loyal guard’s back to her, she sees that the ship Captain holds a blunt saber, drawn and pointed at Kurt who holds his own wooden practice sword before him, the gathered crew taking bets and cheering loudly around them.

Both men wear mischievous grins, neither noticing her presence, their eyes leveled at each other.

Vasco darts forward with his saber, attempting to score a hit against Kurt’s shoulder, but he spins and swings his sword in a long arc which just misses the Naut as he ducks and rolls out of reach, jumping quickly back to his feet with a smirk.

“Since when is Kurt allowed to leave the Captain’s quarters?” Constantin asks, with a hint of jealousy, suddenly standing over her shoulder, startling her.

“I’m sure that they will have the leak in Kurt’s cabin repaired soon enough and he’ll be out of your way.”

“A leak? Cousin, surely you jest?”

“Why would you believe so?”

“Just look at them, fair cousin.”

She does watch closely for a while as they continue to strike and dodge, Vasco running Kurt around the deck in an attempt to wear him out. It would ordinarily be a good tactic against a physically stronger opponent, but only works when Kurt has had a long day of training beforehand.

“Constantin, don’t be ridiculous.”

She feels an elbow jab her ribs hard enough to make her jump and she replies with a heavy back hand to her cousin’s chest, both of them smirking without looking at each other. She has missed the way they used to be able to tease each other, preparing for their new duties and responsibilities taking up so much of their time recently.

“I do believe, dear Elizabeth, that this spar is going to end in someone getting hurt. Look at them. Neither one will ever yield. They would sooner die of exhaustion.”

She watches a moment longer realizing Constantin is correct; not even the ring of the breakfast bell distracts them from their match. The two men are both too stubborn to submit and the longer they continue to wear each other down, the more likely they are to hurt themselves or someone else.

“I’ll handle it,” she says to her cousin before she begins to make her way through the crowd.

“Captain, if you want to wear me down, it will take more than just you. Why not call some of your crew to help you out?” Kurt taunts him.

Vasco’s eyes glint as he raises his brows. “Kurt, I would do so, but I’m afraid you would be disgraced in the eyes of your charges when the ladies aboard crush you.”

At this, the gathered crowd cheers and a few women’s voices can be heard above the rest.

Elizabeth looks over her shoulder at Constantin who gestures toward the two men. She nods her head and steps out of the crowd, watching them closely as they continue to circle, still not aware of her presence.

In her most noble and honey dripping voice, she speaks over the crowd. “Gentlemen, you’re both very pretty. Let’s call it a draw before someone gets hurt, shall we?”

Both men freeze and turn to look at her, standing in the path of their steps, unmoving. Kurt is the first to lower his sword, tilting his head at her with a mischievous smile.

“At your ladyship’s request, I humbly call a draw,” he says with a courtly bow.

Vasco simply stands and stares, a look of confusion on his face. “A draw it shall be. For now.” He bows and passes the blunt saber to Kurt without looking at him, his eyes focused on her, then climbs to the upper deck taking the helm back from his first mate.

“Might I ask what that was all about, Kurt?”

“Just a friendly spar.”

“Friendly? That looked anything but.”

He laughs and his eyes light up. His entire face smiles and it’s the most at ease and content she has ever seen him. Before she can comment on it, Constantin is standing next to Kurt patting him on the back.

“Well, Kurt, it’s good to see you finally out of the Captain’s cabin. How have you been occupying yourself?”

“The usual, drinking, talking, stargazing. Did Vasco show you his stargazer? It’s rather impressive,” Kurt says before ducking below deck with the practice swords, leaving a stunned Constantin standing with his mouth wide open.

Unable to contain it, Elizabeth laughs uncontrollably at her cousin, patting him on the back as she passes by following Kurt below.

Leaning into his open door with her arms crossed, she watches as he rummages through his trunk. “Kurt, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you up there.”

He stands and turns, a blunt foil in one hand and his practice sword in the other. “Well, you can make it up to me with a quick spar then,” he says as he tosses the blunt foil in her direction.

She seizes it from the air in a graceful motion, adding a little flourish as she points it at him. Watching him come closer, she holds the sword out until his chest comes into contact with the dull point of it. Kurt moves closer yet, forcing the blade to arc until it glints off his shoulder and his face is within inches of hers. Close enough she can feel his breath on her lips.

“Do you really think I’m pretty, your Excellency, or is that one of your noble lies?”

“You’re pretty stubborn,” she replies with a smirk and turns away, marching quickly down the hall and up the stairs to the deck with him close on her heels. She whirls around and points her sword at him, beginning the dance.

“You’ll pay for that, your Excellency.”

Her feet whisper across the wood planks in a large circle now the crowd has dispersed, and she sees the wary look in his eyes. They both know she’s fresh and he’s already spent much of his energy against the young, energetic Naut Captain. “Somehow, Kurt, I don’t think I will.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replies confidently with a grin.

She lunges at him right away, a move he didn’t expect, and she makes light contact against his shoulder, spinning away from his counterattack just in time. “You were saying?”

However, her cockiness gets the better of her when he thrusts out a foot, sweeping her feet from under her and planting her on her arse, the point of his wood sword pressing into the fabric over her heart. “Greenblood, you’re dead,” he replies sadly, taking the practice swords and pulling her up before disappearing again through the hatch.

Again, she follows him below and this time, his door is closed. Instead of knocking, she decides to simply walk in. She gasps as Kurt stands there before her, head down, his bare back covered in scars she knows are not from battle or training. At least none she knows of. The marks on his back look like the scars from severe whippings. Not just one instance. Several.

“Oh, Kurt, what…” she whimpers as she steps closer to him unable to finish her thought. She lightly touches his shoulder first, waiting for him to stop her or say something. When he’s quiet, she places a hand flat against the middle of his back over the nest of white lines. Tracing a finger down his spine. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head but refuses to look at her. “Not anymore.”

“I know you don’t want to talk to me about it. I understand that. But if you ever change your mind…you know where to find me.”

She turns to leave but her wrist is suddenly grasped in his hand, his thumb pressing gently against her pulse.

“Greenblood, there are things you’re better off not knowing,” he says softly before he releases her, and she passes back to the hall and into her own cabin.

Leaning against her door, she breathes heavily, the air is too hot, and she rushes out to the balcony, leaning on the railing, her face in her hand as tears stream down her face. She’s not usually prone to crying like she has since boarding ship, but she’s also not usually exposed to so much grief and pain.

“Are those tears for me, Greenblood?”

Startled, she gasps and then replies, “Mostly.”

“You don’t need to shoulder my burdens.”

She feels his hand on her shoulder, large and warm and comforting, and continues to look out to the waves, the blue expanse before her, those depths are easier to fathom than his eyes.

“Kurt, you were the happiest I think I’ve ever seen you this morning. I’m sorry that being around me seems to cause you so much pain.”

“You? Cause me pain?” he asks, scoffing. “You give me reason to hope.”

A small smile curls her lips as she finally turns her gaze on him. His eyes are the calmest she has ever seen them, no longer the usual storm clouds, but, rather, a dusky blue sky. Her cheeks flush, but only Kurt is there to notice. He flashes an amused smile, and she warmly smiles back, her lingering doubts melting away.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

True to Captain Vasco’s word, the days pass with little difference to tell one from the next. White clouded skies over deep blue seas, followed by nighttime’s veil ushering out the day and drawing with it the stars in a constant revolution of the sun. Instead, Elizabeth marks the passage of time by the changes she notices in Kurt.

With each passing day, he becomes a more present figure in her life; sparring, strolling on deck under Vasco’s watchful eye. Stolen moments on the balcony they share. No longer hanging back in the shadows, or throwing up walls between them, her loyal guard and friend is as close to her as he has ever been. Closer.

Shortly after the spar with Vasco, he had moved back into his own cabin, still taking the occasional meal with the Captain when he’s not entertaining their party in the parlor, all of which had greatly improved Constantin’s mood of late.

On this particular morning, Kurt and Elizabeth find themselves alone in the parlor below decks, with Constantin above, taking in the sunshine. Seated on the opposite side of the table, Kurt holds a deck of cards in his hands, shuffling through them slowly, but without ever glancing at them, intently focused on her face across from him. She holds a book before her, a volume of poetry that Vasco loaned her from his own library upstairs, and she would appear to be reading if anyone were to intrude.

“Greenblood?”

“Yes, Kurt?”

“I don’t want to say something that’s going to reopen any wounds, but I wondered how you were feeling about what happened before we left Serene. I know what it’s like. The first kill is always the hardest. It’s the one that stays with you. Inhabits your dreams.”

Looking down at the book in her hands, she swallows dryly and tries to stay composed, wishing he had asked her about anything else. Over the weeks since that day, she has tried not to think about it, not to see those eyes dim. Like the feeling she has when she thinks of her mother, this is another crack in her foundation, something she knows is there and growing, but which she chooses to ignore.

“I keep seeing those eyes, going out like an exhausted candle flame. How do you get over that?”

“I don’t think you ever really do. Like most grief, it gets less painful with time. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“Thank you. Can we talk about something a little brighter?”

“Anything you want, Greenblood.”

An electric current surges through her at the tenderness in his voice and she watches as his eyes shift when he notices the sudden change in her expression. She feels his gaze shift away and takes just a moment to glance his way. He does not smile but has the appearance of contentment.

“I know you were enlisted when you were very young, but don’t you have any pleasant memories?"

"Some, yes. What kind of memories were you thinking about?"

Some. The thought makes her nearly weep for him. She has so many happy memories of her mother and Constantin. And even him. Especially him in more recent years and days. “Tell me about a fond memory.”

“I have fond memories of my wet nurse. She always smelled of crushed flowers.”

“Rose? What was she like?”

He gives her a strange look, his eyes narrowed, before it melts away and he smiles, his eyes beaming at her. “She gave me my name. She was kind and she taught me all she could about how to be a good man.”

“Kurt, do you mind if I ask you something…perhaps a little personal?”

“Go ahead.”

“Whatever happened to her?”

“I haven’t seen her in a long time. After the rise in the Malichor, I moved her away to keep her safe. She lives on an island, far away from Serene.”

The man is full of surprises. He must have pulled some strings to make that happen.

“I had no idea. How?”

“It should come as no surprise that I don’t drink away my coin. I have enough saved to keep a little house for her,” he replies with a slight edge to his voice.

“That’s not what I meant, Kurt. But, once we’ve gotten everything settled on Teer Fradee, you should go and see her.”

“If only you could meet her. She would like you.”

The thought of meeting the woman who raised and cared for him thrills her. “I would love to meet her.”

“Greenblood, someone like you…and…someone like her…”

“Because she was once a prostitute? Kurt, I don’t care about that. She’s your mother, and I want to meet her.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

The way such simple praise from the man makes her feel, light and giddy, like a schoolgirl…he would laugh at her if he knew.

“Do you have any happy memories after you were enlisted?”

“Not really. But there is one that stands out. One day all the recruits skipped training to go for a swim in the river. The day was unbearably hot, and the water was nice and cool. We spent most of the day there until we were found out. We paid for it later, but it was worth it.” Laughing, he asks, "Isn't it odd that that appears to be one of my happiest memories?"

“Not at all. How often were you able to be so…free?”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve never had much room in my life for that kind of freedom. Until now. While it lasts.” He gives her a meaningful look. “Though, I had thought you meant a different kind of memory.”

“A woman?”

“Are you sure you want to hear about this?”

"What about your first love?"

"Love?” he asks, shaking his head. “Nothing more than a childhood fling. But you know what I mean. You certainly never had a shortage of young men hanging around.”

"Kurt, I barely even acknowledged the boys at court. Did you ever notice the way most of them looked at me? They either saw me as if I were some prize to be won or some strange oddity to be avoided." Her fingers again finding the mark on her face.

"There that is again. You really shouldn't worry over it."

"And what do you think of it, then?" she asks, dropping her hand to the book still open before her.

He reaches across the table and strokes the mark gently with just the tip of his fingers, turning her face so it is in full view, only slipping just below the line of her jaw. "I've always thought it...rather charming."

She dares not breathe, with his fingers brushing against her pulse, his steel blue eyes cutting right through her resistance. She leans in but the sound of Sir de Courcillon clearing his throat startles her. He sits at the head of the table, his head tilted, and his eyes trained on her face.

Having been caught completely off guard, she snaps her book closed, looks warily in his direction and says, “Good morning.”

Kurt stands and, nodding his head at them, walks away, entering his room next door.

“Miss Elizabeth, would you mind if I speak freely?"

"What did you have in mind?"

“It is a delicate matter. One that concerns you and Kurt.

"I assure you..."

"There's no need for that. Just be careful. You know your uncle.”

"I truly appreciate your candor." With that, she stands and walks to her own quarters and steps inside out of view to compose herself.

She crosses her room and opens her balcony door, stepping out, turning and walking to the railing, looking out to sea. Pleasantly surprised to hear the familiar steps of Kurt behind her, Elizabeth is afraid to even let him see how shaken she is. They are risking everything and there is so much more at stake than their own desires.

"Greenblood? Are you alright?"

She takes a moment to catch her breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Sir de Courcillon was just warning me about my uncle.”

"You are always above reproach. No one could fault you. I'm the one to blame."

“No, he’s right. I'm not saying that we've done anything wrong or even that scandalous," she laughs softly, "though my idea of scandalous may not be what it once was. And I don't want to stop. But I do think it best we keep it from Constantin, for now."

"Do you think he wouldn't approve?"

She glances around wildly. "Honestly, I couldn't say. I know he holds you in high regard, Kurt. He respects you. Even likes you. And there’s nothing between he and I. He might be supportive, but I don't think we can take that risk just yet. If his father were to find out..."

"He would drag one of us back to the continent..."

"Yes. Probably you. I'm too useful to him."

“I could always quit. He can’t order me around if I’m no longer in his employ.”

“And then what? Don’t do anything drastic.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

~Kurt~

Kurt can see the smile forming in the corner of her mouth, the contour of her cheek shifting, a slight blush blooming before looking back to the sea. Looking at her right now, he wants to pull her into his arms and taste her lips and that would be the end of him. He looks out to the sea as the urge nearly overtakes him. Perhaps a change of subject.

“What about you? Happy memories?”

“Of course. My mother reading to Constantin and I. Singing us to sleep.” She smiles and closes her eyes. “She would sometimes let us pitch a tent in the courtyard and have a fire pit brought out. We pretended we were brave adventurers in the wild, sleeping in the woods. It was the closest we could get to the real thing.”

A sudden look of sadness crosses her face, tugging at his heart.

“Your mother, she was…she is exactly what one would hope for. I’m sorry for you, Greenblood, what you’re going through.”

“Thank you, Kurt,” she replies softly, her eyes slightly misty. She turns away from the railing and reaches for her door.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He watches as she smiles softly and returns to her cabin, then he turns and enters his own room, stepping past the desk where he left the cards from the parlor. Kurt crosses to his door and swiftly climbs up above deck.

Vasco notices him immediately and gives him a wary look. Climbing up to the upper deck, he leans against the railing nearby and waits for the inquisitive Captain to speak his mind.

“Kurt, everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Call it a Captain’s intuition,” he says with a smirk.

“It’s not me. I’m worried about de Sardet. I don’t know if she mentioned it, but her mother…”

Vasco interrupts him. “Malichor.”

“Yes. And she still hasn’t dealt with killing that creature on the docks.”

“I’m sorry about that. It should never have happened.”

“Not your fault, Sailor. I told you that. She would have to deal with this at some point. Better now, while she has time than when she takes up her responsibilities as Legate. But, she seems to be doing all she can to forget it.”

“Is that really so bad, Kurt?”

He looks directly in the Captain’s eyes with his brows raised. “It worked wonders for me…”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I just don’t know how to help her.”

“I had no idea how to help you either, Soldier. I certainly made a mess of it in the beginning.”

“It’s…I can’t give her the comfort she needs. I want to, but, regardless of our feelings for each other, I’m still just her guard.”

“Maybe give her just a little more time, see if she reaches out to you.”

Nodding his head, he turns and leans out over the railing, looking out to sea. The depths remind him of the color of her eyes. Vasco says something else at his back but the noise of the sails snapping and billowing with the wind, drown out his voice. Kurt turns and crosses to the helm. “What was that?”

“Just this. The one she needs is you. You’re the only one who can be that for her.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs as he claps his hand on Vasco’s shoulder before climbing back down and ducking through the hatch.

As he takes the stairs down, passing by Vasco’s door, he slips inside and moves over to the bookshelf, looking through the different books on paper folding until he finds one not dedicated to flower, nautical or marine shapes. Flipping through the pages he finds swords and stars and various other shapes. Stepping into the office, he pulls some paper out of the drawer and leaves the cabin with both in hand. Climbing back up to the deck, he waves the book and paper at Vasco with his brows raised, watching as he smiles back and waves him off, before he moves quickly back down the stairs and to his cabin.

Sitting on his bed, he flips through the book looking for something that might make Elizabeth smile. It may be silly, trying to buy a smile with some folded pieces of paper, but it’s worth a try. Just like the first time, his first two stars are unrecognizable, but he soon finds his stride and turns out a dozen or so stars in yellow and white. And it takes only one try to achieve a rather passing crescent moon. The beginnings of a plan forming with each completed folded paper shape.

The dinner bell finally shakes him out of his concentration, and he takes all the paper and the book and stows them in his trunk before he joins Elizabeth in the mess hall, taking in her somber face. He pulls one shape from his pocket and slips it into hers as he passes by on his way to the kitchen. When he takes his seat across from her, she is just pulling out the paper sword from her pocket and smiling up at him.

“Is this supposed to have some deeper meaning that I’m not aware of?”

“Does a sword not please the lady as much as a bouquet of flowers?”

Laughing, she holds the sword out pointed in his direction and, louder than she intended, calls out, “En garde!”

A few crew members look their way but quickly go back to eating their dinner.

“I’m unarmed, Greenblood. Hardly seems fair.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she says lowering the sword.

Reaching in his pocket he pulls out the other sword and thrusts it out at her.

“Now that was unfair. I yield.”

“Perhaps, tomorrow, we can have a real spar?”

“You’re on.”

Dropping the sword on the table, he returns to his meal.

“I might have known you would waste my paper making swords, Soldier,” Vasco quips as he passes by on his way to the kitchen. When he returns, sitting next to Kurt, he picks up both swords and inspects them. “Not bad.”

“Such high praise.”

Elizabeth smiles at them both. “We’ll be sparring sometime on the deck tomorrow, Vasco.”

“With wooden swords I hope?” he asks as he glances down to the paper swords on the table.

“Kurt?”

“If these do not please your Excellency, I suppose I can see my way to bring some practice swords up on deck.”

“I’m afraid I would hurt you with one of these. Paper cuts…”

The three of them break out into raucous laughter. It was a silly joke, but the more one of them laughs, the more the others laugh back.

When Vasco pushes his plate aside, Kurt grabs all three and returns them to the kitchen before the three of them leave the mess together, Vasco saying goodnight at the stairs as he heads back up to set the ship for the night.

Walking Elizabeth to her cabin, he sees she has the swords in her hand, and he smiles to himself thinking that she kept them. Taking her hand, he leads her to her door, opens it and almost whispers, “Goodnight, your Excellency.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

Back in his cabin, he picks the playing cards up from the desk and his hat from the washstand and settles into his bed tossing the cards into his hat at the end of the bed. When he pulled them out of the drawer and opened the box, he was unsurprised to discover that the backs of the cards were decorated with the same scrolling design as everything else in the parlor. He slowly flipped through the cards, amused that instead of kings and queens, the cards had marine animals dressed in crowns and instead of the usual suits, they were all nautically themed. He somehow knew that if he checked, he would find the ace on the dice were anchors or ship’s wheels.

His thoughts drift back to Elizabeth. Kurt has rarely seen her laugh as freely as she did tonight. Always so restrained, so in control of her every move and every word. Everyone is always watching her, expecting so much of her, even Constantin. Especially Constantin. And she delivers, in abundance.

He has never seen her look down on anyone because of his or her station. Or lack of one. But all her questions about Rose, her interest in the character and life of a prostitute, though not entirely surprising, is none-the-less baffling. Rose would be tickled at Elizabeth calling her his mother. And she would love her if she could ever meet her. Hopefully when they arrive in New Serene, he’ll have something to write to her about.

Eventually he tires of the cards and pushes the hat onto his trunk with his foot before putting out the light and sinking into the bed to sleep. The occasional nightmare still haunts him, but nothing like the ones with Hermann. He often dreams of protecting Elizabeth. Dreams of being with her, half between sleep and wakefulness.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

"Fight with honor!" Elizabeth shouts flirtatiously, laughing whole heartedly as she runs laps around Kurt, and he tries only half-heartedly to keep up.

"I would love to, Greenblood, if you would stop trying to distract me with your fancy footwork!"

Her footwork has become quite impressive. And he must credit her, as it was her machination, but these sparring matches have turned out to be an excellent idea, immediately becoming their favorite way to spend time together. Not only allowing the two of them to be so nearly alone, but also keeping up their practice and discipline, at least where footwork is concerned. And all under the watchful eyes of their companions. And, as it is something they've been doing for years, it comes quite naturally.

There is a lightness and playfulness between them that they've never had before during training exercises. They were always making coy little remarks to each other, but the tone is now more relaxed and less reserved. And for the first time, Kurt takes it easy on her more often than not.

She circles around him and calls out, "Perhaps I should call my cousin up here to take my place so you can rest..."

"Perhaps you should call him to take my place so that I can better observe your form?"

"Shocking!" she says with fake outrage. "For that speech, I think I shall have to punish you!" Seeing his face beam back at her, she begins another round of laps that he refuses to try keeping up with.

"Now you're just showing off!" Kurt collapses on the deck in defeat and lies back looking up at the stars that are just beginning to make an appearance, completely at ease and perfectly happy.

With no one else around but Vasco at the helm and a few of the crew on deck to pay them any mind, she walks up behind him and stands over his head while sheathing her rapier. "Do you yield?" she asks playfully.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Kurt grabs her free hand with his, gently pulling her towards him, while using his open hand to sweep her feet out from under her catching her before she can hit the deck. It is a quick and rather smooth operation that she was not expecting, and it takes her completely by surprise. "Nay, do you?" he quips back.

"So...is this what it means to be swept off your feet...?"

This is the closest they have ever been, their bodies in physical contact, so much contact he can hardly bear it. Their faces nearly touching. Her breaths heave softly against his chest, and she leans into him, her lips slightly parting, searching.

Kurt knows that they have little time before they are discovered and he knows that if this goes much further, it might go too far but he finds himself unable to resist. He removes his glove from his right hand and gently touches the mark on her cheek with just the tips of his fingers, her skin as soft as down under his touch. As he traces the mark down her cheek and to her neck, she tilts her head to invite him in. He pulls her in closer and softly brushes his lips against her cheek, following her birthmark to her neck where he buries his lips. Lost in her scent and her taste, and the texture of vine on skin for a moment. The feeling is overwhelming, like a fire that builds deep within him turning his insides to molten metal, he breathes her in, and he wants so much more.

Without pulling away, she places her hand on his and moves his hand to the place in her chest where he can feel her heart, holding it there for a few beats. His face still buried in her neck, his mouth forms breathless words against her skin that she can just make out over the sound of the waves battering the hull, "I've wanted to do that...for so long."

She steps gently out of his embrace and backs slowly away.

Her timing could not be better as she backs into Constantin who has suddenly appeared on deck. She swings around to see he is followed closely by Sir de Courcillon and she looks up at Captain Vasco who gives her a knowing but curious look. She excuses herself and darts below deck.

Kurt is still lying where she left him, watching. He fears he might have gone too far but he has little time to consider it before Constantin is upon him and wondering out loud if she has finally got the best of him. He thinks maybe she has.

He rises and nods at all three men before excusing himself, then he goes to find Elizabeth below. Gently knocking, he slowly opens the door when he hears her softly bid him enter. He leans against the frame with his arms crossed over his sternum but does not enter. Standing there unsure of what to say, he stares at her, afraid he has crossed a line.

"Kurt, please, don't apologize. That was the single most romantic moment in my life and if you apologize for it...I will kill you!"

A seductive smile blooms on his face, relaxing now, relieved.

"You can come in. I won't bite."

"No," he agrees, "but I might." Then, in a more serious voice, "I just don't want to risk your reputation. We’ve taken enough chances already; this is one I just can't take."

"Kurt," she says with a defeated sigh, "always the gentleman. Where did you learn to behave in such a way anyway? I know it wasn't from your fellow soldiers."

"You know I haven't spent much time with my fellow soldiers since I took on my position in the royal guard. Perhaps it was the influence of the gentlemen at court."

"No,” she insists, shaking her head, “I don't believe that. There are few true gentlemen at court. And you, you were always a gentleman." She reaches over to the book beside her on the bed and opens it to reveal a flowered vine pressed between the pages. "Do you remember that day? You told me it reminded you of me."

He leans forward but still does not enter the room. He can hardly believe she still has that. It wasn't something he had really committed to memory or thought of in a while, but he does recall the day. "I do. It was growing around the trunk of a young tree, climbing it and it made me think of your birthmark, climbing your neck and your cheek, like a vine."

She looks at him, an expression of bewilderment on her face for a moment before shaking her head gently. "I pressed it in this book as soon as we arrived home that day and I've kept it there since. I was always curious what you meant when you said it reminded you of me. I had no idea it had anything to do with this." She reaches up and touches the mark.

Now forced to enter the room, he leaves the door open, quickly closing the distance between them, leans in and takes her face in his hand and caresses the mark again with his lips. Then he puts his forehead to hers, their noses just barely touching. "That mark is part of you, and it is a beautiful part. I wish you could see it the way I do." Then lets his hands drop, stands and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

In his own cabin, he opens the trunk on the side of his bed and pulls out the white handkerchief, looking at it for a moment until he hears a soft knock. When he opens the door, Elizabeth is standing before him, her mouth open until she notices the small piece of white cloth in his hands. "How about you? Do you remember that day?" he asks as he places it in her hands.

She turns the cloth over in her hands to discover her initials embroidered in blue with a ring of blue flowers on a green vine. "I gave you that, didn't I? I cut you, training. And that was all I had."

"Yes, you did. I didn't have the heart to use it."

"You kept that all this time?"

"Mmmm, it's not often a young lady gives you something like that. I know it didn't mean anything, but I kept it anyway."

Kurt watches as she runs her fingers over the raised letters and flowers on the surface of the handkerchief. She looks up at his face and takes her left hand and gently feels the texture of his scars, setting his skin aflame. Running her fingers through his hair, she musses it up just a bit as she slips her hand down the back of his head over the bristly hair that leads to his neck. Pulling his head down towards her face, she presses her lips softly to the scar that runs through his eyebrow, then presses her forehead to his.

"Now we're even. Because I've always wanted to do that."

This is almost too much to take, only the knowledge that they have too much to lose pulls him back from the edge. "I suppose we are, Greenblood." He begins to back away, retreating into his room.

"Wait," she says, returning the handkerchief, "I think this belongs to you. And I hope it means something now."

Kurt retreats to his room where he can have a full and total meltdown in the torrid fire they have built together, once again left amazed by her. Just when he thinks he has her figured out, she surprises him with something he never expected. He regards himself in the mirror. Running his finger over the scars, still burning from her touch. He looks down at the handkerchief in his hand and he wonders how he became such a sentimental fool.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Sometime during the night Vasco raps on all their doors, waking them in near panic, and warns them that a storm is on the horizon and coming in fast. "It's no hurricane, but it's going to make a lot of noise and a lot of mess before it goes back to sleep. It's nothing for you to worry about. We've sailed through much worse. If you need anything, let Solomon know, but you should stay below deck and stay inside and away from the balcony."

Kurt, true to form asks, "Can I do anything?"

"I appreciate the gesture, Kurt, truly, but we have enough crew to handle it. You should stay here with the others." Then he leaves them to go back up on deck, where the first shower is just beginning to start.

With the crashing lightning and rumbling thunder, no one can sleep at this point and the four companions find themselves in the parlor area waiting it out while Jonas brings sandbags, placing them against the balcony doors to hold out as much water as possible. Meanwhile, rain falls on deck and little rivulets run down the stairs, racing from one side of the hall to the other in little rivers as the ship rocks to and fro.

At first, Constantin makes an earnest attempt to play billiards, but the rocking of the ship makes it impossible with the balls constantly rolling around, and, on top of that, no one having the ability to stand still. “Damn storm! Can’t sleep. Can’t play billiards…”

“Calm down Constantin. Why don’t you play cards instead?”

He immediately begins to dig through the bookcase drawers looking for a deck of cards, finding one and pulling it out, tossing it to the table. “Will you play, fair cousin?”

“No, thank you. I’ll just watch. Or find a book.”

For hours, Elizabeth reads, occasionally looking over the top of her book as the three men play cards, betting with the chips Constantin eventually found in a different drawer. Constantin often argues with Sir de Courcillon who grumbles about vices and better use of their time.

She sits across from Kurt, her foot occasionally brushing against his leg. The first time was purely an accident, but the way he reacted amused her so greatly that she began to do it intentionally watching for his reaction each time. After several intentional brushes against him, he stops showing any reaction at all and she ups the ante, propping her bare foot on his thigh which does finally elicit a response.

Kurt shoots her a surprised look, and, thinking maybe she went too far, she begins to pull her foot back, looking back at the book in her hands. Before she pulls too far away, she feels his hand catch her ankle, pulling her foot back, his palm resting on her foot as his fingers caress her skin running delightfully up and down the back of her ankle while his thumb skims the top of her foot.

She can almost see them, sitting in a little house, reclining on a sofa reading with her feet in his lap. Some distant life in the future beyond her duties and responsibilities. It has to be possible.

“Damnit, Constantin, you have the devil’s luck!” Kurt exclaims as he throws his cards on the table.

“I can’t help that, Kurt.”

For a while, as he plays cards, he keeps slipping his free hand back under the table between turns, laying delicate touches against her skin. Elizabeth smiles at him, watching as he gives her a smoldering look that suddenly has her feeling too hot despite the cool draft that comes from the hatch down the hall.

Too close for comfort, she slowly pulls her foot back and stands, moving over to the pianoforte, seating herself with her back to the wall and painstakingly tapping out the notes on some sheet music she found, a song she doesn't recognize, but beautiful and haunting. After she finishes the piece, she looks up to see three surprised faces.

"My mother. She played beautifully, and I believe she hoped I would someday as well. But...I never had the patience for it."

Sir de Courcillon raises his brows and claps. "I knew your mother and your uncle had arranged lessons for you, but I had no idea you played so well. You truly are a remarkable student!"

"Dear cousin, is there anything you can't do?" Constantin, who never could sit still long enough for lessons, was quite impressed.

Gazing over at her from his seat at the table she can tell that Kurt is in agreement with the others. He says nothing but his look says it all.

She looks at Constantin and says, "There are many things that are expected of young ladies that I cannot do. In fact, I am sure that you fine gentlemen can think of several things that I cannot do.”

"Nothing much comes to mind." Vasco appears in the archway. "That’s one of my favorite pieces and you played it beautifully.” He glances around and continues, “I wanted to inform you all that the storm seems to have run out of steam and has nearly passed and that the sea should be calm and quiet for the rest of the night should anyone want to retire. I know I shall." He gives her cousin a quick look, bows and turns and walks back to the stairs, which he climbs back up to his quarters with Constantin close on his heels.

Sir de Courcillon excuses himself and returns to his quarters, giving the two of them a stern look, as one would a pair of children, before he steps through the door.

Elizabeth still sits at the pianoforte staring intensely at Kurt who is cleaning up the cards and chips that Constantin abandoned to chase Vasco up to his cabin, occasionally glancing up at her, neither saying a word. The fires, which haven't gone out smolder, threatening to climb to flames.

"I didn't know you played. We still don't know so much about each other it seems. And every day, time is getting shorter."

She looks down at the keys, her fingers splayed out and gently sliding over them. She closes the fallboard and stands, joining him at the table. "There’s still time. And nothing has to change when we arrive in New Serene." She picks up one of his hands, rough and worn, and traces the lines in his palm.

He closes his hand gently around hers. "What about this?"

She tilts her head and opens her mouth, hesitant at first. "When we arrive, Constantin and Sir de Courcillon will take up their positions in the palace. I'll report to Constantin, but I'll rarely see him. I promise, nothing is going to change."

~Kurt~

“Greenblood…”

Kurt stands without releasing her hand, soft and warm and small in his own hand, and leads her towards the cabins. He passes his door and opens hers, releasing her hand as she disappears into the velvet darkness inside, pushing the door closed behind her. He takes a couple of reluctant steps back towards his own quarters ducking quickly inside without even lighting his lantern, slipping under the covers and settling into bed.

Elizabeth may not realize it yet but arriving in New Serene means more than just her responsibilities. It means scrutiny at every step, from every direction. No more freedom to be alone together whenever they want. Just like being at court under her uncle’s eye. Worse. Under the eyes of the Bridge, the Inquisition, everyone.

Just when he finally finds himself able to be close to her it seems like it’s all about to come to an end. And they still have so much more to learn about each other.

He tosses and turns for a while, but, eventually, exhaustion overtakes him, and he sleeps.

The breakfast bell wakes him, and he dresses and steps out of his room groggily to see a stream of crewmembers moving up and down the stairs. Elizabeth steps out next to him, dressed but with her hair down around her shoulders. He takes the chance to quickly run a lock of her hair between his fingers, watching her eyes smile before Constantin bounds down the stairs.

“You seem to be in good spirits this morning, cousin.”

“Oh, I am. But I do believe my bed is calling my name…” he says as he yawns and stretches before he slips through his door, the sound of the lock turning after.

When the stream of sailors halts, they take the opportunity to climb up to the deck, which they find in a state of disorder. The crew has been working in shifts to bring everything back in order, but their work is not yet done. Vasco barks orders at them but everyone seems to be in good spirits. He turns his attention to his passengers. "Did I not tell you the sea can be a little too exciting?"

"You did. This is quite the mess!"

"No worries. They'll have this straightened up before morning is over and everyone can go back to their usual diversions." He then goes back to barking orders to various crew members who are scrambling around them on deck untangling and straightening the rigging.

While the others find themselves hardly inconvenienced by the movement of the crew, Elizabeth and Kurt are left with little to do until the mess is cleared. Sparring over loose and tangled lengths of rope is not an attractive prospect.

Kurt watches as she takes up her usual spot at the starboard railing, stepping up next to her admiring the wide expanse of blue that matches her eyes. “About what you said last night…” he says as he looks over the railing far below, watching the spray of the sea as the ship cuts through it.

"I know I said things wouldn't change once we arrive in New Serene, and I don't want them to, but I suppose they must, at least a little. I’ll have responsibilities that I’ll have to attend to. But nothing will change between us."

He knows she believes every word, and he loves her all the more for it. He only hopes she’s right, because time is not on their side, and they have too much to lose.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth rises from bed, quickly dresses and steps out of her door headed for breakfast as she is suddenly lifted off her feet, a gasp escapes her, and she grips tightly to the shoulders of the person holding her.

Looking up, she sees Constantin was the one who rushed up behind her, picking her up off her feet, and now is nearly yelling, “Fair cousin! Guess what!”

She groans in exasperation. “Constantin, you know how I hate this game. I’ll spend an hour making guesses until you finally can’t stand it and tell me. So, let’s just skip to that, shall we?”

“You’re no fun,” he whines, setting her down on her feet near the mess hall. “But, fine. I heard that the crew is planning to treat us to some music tonight.”

“Where did you hear that?“

“It seems that our illustrious Captain arranged it.” Constantin raises his brows suggestively.

“Constantin, really? Is that all you think about?”

“Not all, Cousin, but mostly.”

When Kurt shows up, he seats himself across from Elizabeth, quietly eating while Constantin goes on about the planned celebration.

“It’s about time we had something to do on this damn ship aside from eat and sleep. Fair cousin, I can’t remember the last time we danced.”

“I’m sure it was as memorable for me,” she teases him, earning a snort from Kurt who glances at her for just a moment before looking back to his bowl as if there were something more interesting to be found there.

“What do you say to a game of billiards this afternoon?”

“Fine,” she agrees only to shut him up and send him on his way.

After Constantin walks out of the mess, leaving his bowl on the table, Kurt finally glances at her in that way that makes her feel like she’s the only one in the room. A soft gasp escaping her mouth as his boot grazes hers, and there is no mistaking the look in his eyes.

“So, what was all that about?”

Elizabeth stares for a moment before realizing he had asked a question. She swallows and opens her mouth to speak. “Vasco has arranged for the crew to entertain us with music this evening. Drinking, dancing. Merriment…”

“Mmmm, it has been some time since you’ve danced.”

She nods, thinking on the reason for it, the pang of memory and grief sharp in her chest. “Yes, it has.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

“The memories are there whether I think on them or not. It’s odd, the times when I think of her. When I smell the soap she used. When I see Constantin, it’s like looking into her eyes and he has her same golden hair.”

“I hadn’t thought about how much he must remind you of her.”

“Just in the way he resembles her, tall and lean, almost frail looking, but with this surprising strength. I don’t look a thing like her. I look for it. Try to see her in myself, but she’s not there.”

“Not physically, no. But, in every way that truly matters, Greenblood, she is there. Her kindness, and gentleness, her cleverness, the way she could light up a room merely with her presence. You have the best of her in you.” He lays his hand over hers as he stands and gathers three bowls, returning them to the kitchen. As he passes by, he slows and gently squeezes her hand.

She watches as he leaves the mess and steps into his room. Standing, she moves to the kitchen and taps Solomon on the shoulder.

He turns and gives her a surprised look. “What can I do for you, madam?”

“Please, it’s de Sardet. And I was hoping I could see my way to a bath. An actual bath.”

“Well, there are the baths down below, but I’m afraid they’re not private. The only private bath on the ship is the one in Cap’s quarters. But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Your friend, Kurt, made use of it when he was…a guest there.”

“I’ll talk to Captain Vasco, then. Thank you, Solomon.”

When she steps out on deck some time later, she calls up to Captain Vasco calls at the helm, “A word, Captain Vasco?”

He raises his brows as he looks down at her below. “What can I do for you, de Sardet?”

She climbs up to the aft deck and leans against the railing at a distance from the man, her hands properly folded over her middle. “I was hoping that I might be able to procure a bath. In a private tub. And I hear there is only one of those on board…”

“I see. Well, I certainly don’t mind. Just ask Solomon to have it filled for you. I also had something to speak to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Since we’ve had several days to clean up and repair everything after the storm, at your request, I’ve arranged for the crew to play tonight.”

“I’ve heard, but I didn’t mean for you to go to any trouble.”

Glancing in her direction for a moment, his lips curl up in a smile. “It’s no trouble. They’re delighted. It isn’t often we have guests who trouble themselves to fraternize with the crew.”

“Then I look forward to it.”

He looks back to sea, still a hint of a smile on his face, and she climbs down to the lower deck, ducking below. She descends the stairs, turning towards the mess and returning to the kitchen. Solomon sees her coming this time and quickly says, “I’ll have Jonas get it filled for you.”

“Thank you, so much.”

Back in her room, she gathers fresh clothes and her soaps and makes her way up to Vasco’s cabin to wait while Jonas fills the tub. She takes her things into the bathroom, taking her hair down and then busies herself with perusing the books on the bookshelf in the sitting room.

She notices an empty space among some books on paper folding and smiles to herself, thinking of the flowers on her desk. Blue forget-me-nots that will never die.

Jonas knocks and the crosses to the door letting him in. “You don’t have to knock and wait with those heavy buckets, Jonas. Just come and go.”

“Yes, your Excellency.”

“And please, no titles. Just call me de Sardet.”

“Oh, I could never do that,” he says anxiously, looking down at the floor.

“It’s okay, just call me whatever you’re comfortable with then.”

He carries the water to the bathroom and pours both buckets in, giving her a little bow as he leaves, repeating the bow each time he enters and leaves again, until the tub is full.

“Is there anything else I can do for your Excellency?”

She turns from the bookcase and replies, “No, thank you, Jonas.”

After he steps out of the cabin, she enters the bathroom, opening the balcony doors and quickly strips out of her clothes, wanting to enjoy every moment until the water begins to cool. Stepping into the bath, she sinks under the water all the way up to her chin, feeling the perfectly heated water lapping over her skin.

She sinks down under the water’s surface, wetting her hair as she stays submerged, looking up through the water before rising, spurting water from her nose and mouth. Suddenly she hears a gasp at the door behind her, and she looks around for a towel to dry her face.

“Greenblood! Damnit, I should have knocked…I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

“Wait…” she says, realizing she forgot to grab a towel.

“I should leave. Now.”

“First, can you do something for me?”

He stands there for a moment without speaking, taking a deep breath followed by a long sigh. “Of course.”

“I need a towel…”

She pulls her legs up to her chest, covering herself with her arms, watching as he very carefully moves to the shelf, grabs a towel and leaves it on the table next to the bath without ever looking in her direction.

“And my soap?”

He picks up her soap and hair wash from the cabinet and leaves them on the towel.

“Anything else?”

“Nothing. Thank you.

He nods and pulls the door closed as he makes his escape, nearly running from the cabin.

At first, she feels terrible for not locking the door. But Vasco knows she’s in his cabin and would have a key. It never occurred to her that anyone else would waltz in when he’s not even there. But the more she thinks about it, the more absurd it becomes. Of course, Kurt, of all people, would walk in on her in a bath the one time she makes use of it.

Quickly washing her hair and body, she stands just as her bath begins to cool, letting the water out as she steps back onto the floor. Wrapping her hair in the towel, she dresses in a rush and grabs her soiled clothes, bath soaps and scooping up the hairpins from the cabinet into her palm, rushing out the door and down to her own cabin.

At her mirror, she runs her fingers through her hair and tosses her clothes down the chute before walking out to the balcony and knocking on Kurt’s door. At first, she thinks either he’s not there or not answering, but then she sees his shape through the windows as he approaches the door.

When he opens the door, she can see the conflicted look on his face, though he is making a concerted effort to look anywhere but her face.

“Kurt, I’m so sorry for putting you in that position. I should have locked the door; I didn’t think.”

“I should never have entered the cabin without permission.”

“What were you doing?”

“Returning a book.”

She remembers the empty space in the bookshelf. “Please don’t beat yourself up over this. It was an innocent mistake. Let’s just forget about it, okay?”

He nods but the look on his face tells her he may not forget about it for some time. She steps around him, letting her hand graze his arm, following down to his hand, which she grasps until she finds herself at the end of their reach and lets his hand slip free as she continues around the balcony to the parlor doors.

She hears the racking of the billiards balls inside. Following the sound, she discovers Constantin waiting for her at the billiards table already setting it up.

“About time you showed up, fair cousin. What shall we play for?”

“Why? You always win.”

“But a wager makes it more fun.”

“For you,” she says in exasperation. “Fine. What do you want?”

“Hmmm,” Constantin begins, folding his hands as if deep in thought, “if I win, you have to dance every time someone asks you tonight. You can’t refuse.”

Why? “Fine, if I win you have to ask our Captain to dance.”

“Please, cousin, what makes you so sure I wasn’t going to do that anyway?”

“What else would I want from you?” she asks, playfully bumping into his shoulder and knocking him off balance.

“I’ll let you go first.”

Elizabeth takes a cue stick from the wall and positions the cue ball, pulling back and driving the ball toward the three balls at the other end. They roll and rebound around the table until they all stop, none of them falling into a pocket. Behind her Constantin snickers as she leans in for her next shot. She manages to sink all three balls in her next three shots for a score of four.

“Oh, you can do better than that.”

“I was never very good at this game, and you know it. And that’s also why you always choose it.”

She moves to the table in the middle of the room and sits watching as Constantin sinks one ball on his first shot and then one each successive turn for a score of three. “Well done,’ she says as she steps up for her next turn.

Just as she is about to break, Kurt steps up beside her and grabs the cue, gently repositioning her hands before moving away. She turns her head, watching him as he takes up a space on the far side of the table, leaning against the balcony door. Swinging her head back around, she takes note of where her hands are in relation to the cue stick and then pulls back, feeling more in control as she strikes the ball.

This time, she sinks one ball on her break and one more on each shot after. “Three points, Highness,” she says coyly as she steps back and smiles at Kurt over her shoulder.

Constantin racks the balls and scores three points again. This time, she has to match or beat three points, or she loses. She leans over the table and breaks, sinking only one ball. The next shots she sinks one each time for another three points. Constantin only needs to score three points or less on his turn and he wins.

On break, he sinks two balls and sinks the third in his next shot. “Oh, Cousin, I hope you brought your dancing shoes!” he calls out as he strolls down the hall and disappears through his door.

Sighing, she takes both cue sticks and returns them to the wall before putting the balls away.

Stepping up next to her, Kurt asks, “What did he mean by that?”

“You know Constantin. We made a wager. I lost.”

“What did you lose?”

“My autonomy. I can’t refuse to dance tonight. I have to accept no matter how many times I’m asked.”

“He can’t make you go through with that.”

“If I don’t, he’ll just come up with something worse.”

“Is this some kind of game?”

“For Constantin, I guess it is.”

“What about you?”

“I…”

The dinner bell rings, startling her. She shakes her head and walks out of the parlor toward the mess with Kurt following sullenly behind her.

Constantin steps out just before they reach his door and joins them. “Oh, cousin, it’s not so bad. Some of these sailors are rather fetching.”

Sitting at their usual table, they eat in silence at first. “Fair cousin, if you absolutely refuse, I suppose I can come up with something else for you to keep up your end of the wager.”

“Constantin, I’m fine with the wager as it stands,” she says defiantly. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it.” She rises from her seat, returns her plate and mug and leaves the mess, giving Kurt a smile as she passes.

Elizabeth disappears to her room and opens her wardrobe, debating. She could stay in what she put on after her bath, or she could dress up just a little. Not in a gown, but something a little more feminine and elegant perhaps. Removing her boots and her jacket, she pulls out a pale blue silk dress and a sort of bustier in ivory with pale blue embroidery that cinches it in around her waist. Then she pulls out a pair of ivory heeled boots and gets changed, pinning her hair back up in a twist, pulling a few short locks out to frame her face.

When she steps through her door, Kurt is the only one there and she hears his breath catch at the sight. Before he can say a word, Constantin bursts through his own door in formal dress.

“Dear, Elizabeth, while you’re always quite fair, couldn’t you have dressed up a little, well, more?”

“That was not part of our wager, cousin,” she says haughtily as she turns, listening to Kurt snicker at his back.

“She looks lovely, Constantin.”

“Thank you, Sir de Courcillon.”

They hear hearty music coming from above deck and all scramble up the stairs. Peeking out they find several crew members have already brought various instruments from below and are playing jovially while others drink and dance merrily. Captain Vasco sits contentedly in a chair nearby, watching and listening with interest. He doesn't look in their direction but motions to them and addresses them cheerfully, "Come up and join us."

Elizabeth finds a place to lean some distance away from Constantin on the starboard side where she stands brooding. It’s not that she minds dancing in general, or dancing with sailors in particular, but that the one person she wants to dance with will never ask her. She has watched him across many ballrooms, wishing he could ask her to dance. To hold her. Kiss her. And now he will have to watch, yet again, as she dances the night away with everyone but him.

“Fair cousin, allow me to have the first dance,” he calls out to her from his spot at the port side railing.

“Yes, of course, Constantin.”

If only Kurt would ask. She could say yes. She would have no choice.

Captain Vasco strolls up with a glass of wine and offers it to her. “Might I have the second dance, de Sardet?”

“You may.” She takes the glass and sips, having learned her lesson about indulging in wine and Naut liquors.

“You’re looking quite lovely tonight,” he says as he bows and strolls away, lowering himself back into his folding deck chair nearby, feet kicked up on a barrel.

“Thank you.”

She watches as the stars slowly reveal themselves under the dark velvet sky. Constantin immediately discovers and begins drinking a pint of ale. After knocking it back to finish it off, he looks at Elizabeth with a roguish grin.

She takes one look at him and, laughing, says, "Oh, no, Constantin! Not yet!"

Refusing to take no for an answer, he takes Elizabeth's hand and leads her out to the middle of the deck. "Remember our wager? I know you remember how. Just follow my lead."

One thing is for certain, he is an excellent dancer. She barely remembers the last time they danced, but it has never before been under the stars at sea. He waltzes her around the deck, twirling her until she is dizzy and laughing gaily. When the music ends and another song begins, she looks at Kurt who has been watching, not jealously but enviously and she resolves to dance with him at some point during the night even if he won’t ask.

Suddenly realizing that Constantin's habit of drinking to excess could work to her advantage for a change, already on his second pint and nearly finished with it, she hands him the still full pint that was given to her looking Kurt in the eyes as she does.

~Kurt~

Kurt sees what she’s doing and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Cunning as a fox, she is; he is always impressed with the way she handles herself. She has such a cool head compared to his. Now they just have to hope that the schoolteacher retires early as he so often does. And, of course, that Constantin will drink himself into a nice deep sleep somewhere out of the way.

As if on cue, Sir de Courcillon stands and addresses Captain Vasco, "Sir, this has been delightful, but I still find myself feeling a bit under the weather and unable to stay awake. I'm afraid I must retire for the night. Good evening to you all."

Constantin, who is receiving boisterous encouragement from the crew, throws back his head finishing his third pint, which he has been following with shots of rum. While he can drink, and a lot, he isn't quite accustomed to the alcohol that the sailors carry on board, and he is obviously feeling the effects of the pints he has already finished as he works on the fourth.

Vasco stands and offers Elizabeth his hand, and she looks at Kurt cautiously. He nods and shrugs his shoulders, taking joy in watching her enjoy herself. Vasco’s dancing is not as fine as Constantin’s, but not many people can match him. Still, he manages to twirl her gracefully around the deck, thanking her for the dance when the song ends.

She looks as lovely as he has ever seen her. The fancy gowns worn in court do more to hide her than complement her. The dress she chose for tonight though; the pale blue makes her eyes appear an even deeper blue than usual. Her shape not on display but, the mere suggestion of it is far more alluring and he finds himself hot under his collar, tugging it open to allow the cool night air to alleviate the heat.

Again, Constantin pulls Elizabeth out to the middle of the deck, but his dancing prowess obviously suffers from his state of drunkenness. And turning circles across the deck does not seem to agree with him. He is soon wobbling around and Elizabeth steps up, looking a little guilty, but mostly concerned.

She convinces him to allow her to help him down to his cabin so he can sleep it off and he reluctantly goes with her but insists on taking what is left of his last pint with him thanking the crew for the lovely time as he disappears below. Kurt stops and speaks to Vasco before he follows quietly downstairs.

Backing out of Constantin’s room, she steps back and turns to find herself face to face with Kurt who takes her hand and leads her back up the stairs to the middle of the deck where the crew are still gathered, and, on cue, they begin to play a seductive waltz. “May I have this dance, Greenblood?”

Her smile is all the answer he needs.

~Elizabeth~

He places a soft kiss into the palm of her right hand that burns through her veins reigniting the fire inside her. Draping her hand over his shoulder, his own hand slides down to the small of her back leaving a trail of electricity down her spine. Then, bringing her other hand to his lips, he leaves another sizzling kiss in her palm before he begins to lead her in a slow and romantic Serenese waltz.

He isn't quite as accomplished a dancer as Constantin, or even Captain Vasco, but she finds him all the more charming on account. Every time he spins her, she becomes dizzy, intoxicated by his touch. And when he dips her low and deep, his arms holding her, supporting her, euphoria overcomes her and she is barely standing, being held up by his adoration.

When the music stops, he just holds her for a moment, whispering in her ear, "That was quite clever, Greenblood." He pulls his face back so that he can look into her eyes, then he releases her and steps to the railing to admire her from afar.

As the night wears on, she dances again with Vasco and with Jonas, Lauro, even Flavia and a few other members of the crew who seem to have caught on to the fact that she must accept any request to dance. Word likely circulated by her traitorous cousin. But, all the time, she is thinking about Kurt or glancing at him.

Once it grows rather late, the crew begins to thin out and Vasco gives the two of them a knowing look and a smirk, excusing himself and retiring to his quarters for the night. Except for a small number of the crew who are on watch but paying no attention to them, Elizabeth and Kurt soon find themselves alone on deck under the stars.

Nearly breathless, Elizabeth stands some distance from him, feeling the pull of his magnetism. She is still dizzy, but not from the spinning. It is memory of being in his arms, his hands warm against her skin. His body so close to hers. "Where did you learn that dance?" she asks softly.

"Watching you at court. I've been to every ball and every dance, and, though I was never able to join, I paid attention. I realized that the steps in a dance aren't really so different from the steps in a fight."

Intrigued, she asks, "How is that?"

“Follow my lead.”

He smiles devilishly, drawn to her like a moth to flame, moving toward her slowly, circling around her as one would a sparring opponent. He takes a quick step closer brushing against her and takes her hand and whispers "Lunge." Then he pulls her in his direction. "Parry." Holding her close for a moment before pushing her back again, he follows with a dizzying spin and then lifts her over his head, allowing her body to slowly glide against his as he lowers her back to her feet. "Passata Sotto," he says softly and seductively, his chest heaving deeply against hers.

His face is within inches of hers and she feels the draw of his open mouth. She knows that if he kisses her now, she will never stop. She lowers her head, and he releases her from his embrace, and she steps back, both with regret and relief.

Elizabeth moves to a safe distance, her heart beating madly in her chest, and asks, "Why that dance?"

"Because it's your favorite."

"How do you know that?" she asks in an astonished voice.

He cocks his head at her playfully and says, "One must know their opponent well in order to know their weaknesses."

"And," she asks coyly, "do you think you know my weaknesses?"

"Well enough." He offers no elucidation. Instead, he brushes against her, his eyes catching hers as he passes by, his hand trailing down the full length of her arm, pinching the silk of her sleeve between his fingers.

Desperately she reaches out and grasps his hand unwilling to leave it there. They stand facing in opposite directions, their fingers clasped together, silence falling softly between them. Neither willing to let go or speak. Neither able to make that first move that will plunge them over the edge.

~Kurt~

His emotions swell inside of him. Her hand darting out so desperately took him by surprise and he is fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. It is a battle that he would be happy to lose if not for the fear that neither of them will be able to stop. If he can withstand the flame long enough, she will release him, and he can walk away.

Don’t look at her…he repeats like a mantra over and over in his head until he feels a gentle tug, pulling him back, luring him into her absolute space. Suddenly the distance between them is, all at once, too much and not enough. His resolve is breaking. His mask of calm and quiet regard is failing him, but, more importantly, is failing her.

His head drops as he gives in, unable to withstand her longing. Turning slowly, he looks down at the fingers intertwined with his and brings her hand to his lips. Her fingers slide out of his and slip over his jaw, her thumb gliding over his open lips. He stills himself, trying to maintain his thin veneer of control but, this close to her, so close he can feel her warmth, can taste her skin on his lips, his stubborn strength is gone.

Reaching up to her face, gently pulling her in, prepared to burn in the flame of her desire, Kurt holds her there, waiting for her to meet him halfway. Her mouth searching, lips slightly parted, eyes locked on his, she closes the distance between them with a peaceful calm.

Her lips are soft and supple and taste of wine, sweet and intoxicating. Without breaking eye contact, he gently kisses her open mouth, pulling her lip between his, deepening the kiss and stretching it out across the sea of time before they snap back into the moment before them.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth wakes with a peaceful calm. The breaking light of dawn reflecting off the waves in a prism on the ceiling draws her from her bed and out to the balcony. Stepping through the door, she walks over to the rail, and, with her eyes closed, leans over the railing further than she knows she should to feel the delicious warmth of the sun on her face and breathe in the crisp sea air. Opening her eyes, she watches the sun slowly rise over the horizon.

The kiss with Kurt still burning on her lips, she lets her mind drift back to last night. Almost immediately after the moment their lips met, she could feel him trying to pull away, to retreat, and close himself back off. Before he could manage to break away completely, she had buried her face in his chest while slipping her hand to the back of his neck holding him close, barring his escape. Then she could feel his arms, hesitantly and slowly, coming up around her and holding her close for the first time as he tucked his face into her hair. The feeling of warmth and comfort immeasurable, far greater than she had ever imagined.

The only problem is how much more she wants now she has had a taste. More than just his tender heart, his sharp mind, she wants everything he has to give. And she knows he’s not ready to give her all of himself. Not yet. Maybe not for a long while still. But she can wait. She will wait. For as long as it takes.

Hearing a sudden anxious breath, her head snaps in that direction. Kurt’s face wears an expression of both longing and concern.

“Greenblood, about last night…”

Shaking her head, almost smiling and reaching out for him, she interrupts him to save him from himself. “Kurt, last night was…” she pauses, searching for the right word.

“Perfect…”

She nods in agreement. “Yes, it was.”

“Except for watching you dance with everyone else all night…wishing it was me.”

Imagining the way it would have felt to watch Kurt dance with everyone but her, a sharp shard of some feeling she has never felt before spikes in her middle. “I know how difficult that must have been. I shouldn’t have let Constantin talk me into that stupid wager. I should have just refused to go through with it.”

“No, you were right. He would just make you miserable today if you had. And, despite how envious I was, I enjoyed watching you dance. You deserve to have fun, and I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel otherwise.”

“Aside from dragging the two of us back to the palace on a number of occasions…”

“I was thinking of the night we drank in the parlor; I was rather overbearing, and I had no right to be.”

For a moment, she stares at him, perplexed, but then she throws her head back and laughs, then doubles over, her arms crossed over her middle. “Kurt,” she barely manages to mutter, “I hope you haven’t been worrying about that all this time.”

“I can’t help it,” he says softly with a hurt look.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light. But you should know that you were exactly what I needed that night.”

“And now?”

“You have always been exactly what I needed, Kurt. When I was a girl with a ridiculous crush on you, you were the hard-assed trainer I needed. When I was following Constantin around the streets of Serene, you were the loyal guard I needed. You have always been what I needed most even when I didn’t know what that was.”

“Greenblood, what if one day…I’m not?”

Elizabeth steps forward and slips one hand around his neck, tracing the scar through his eyebrow with the thumb on the other hand. She gazes deep into his dusky eyes, that want and need stirring within her. “That’s when it will be my turn to be what you need,” she whispers as she presses her lips to his in a chaste and tender kiss.

At first, he stares deep into her eyes, mouth open like he has something to say, but then he is pressing her against the railing, just like he does in her dreams, with his mouth on hers for only a moment before breaking away and taking several steps back. His chest rising and falling with ragged breaths and his face twisted in pain. “I’m sorry.”

Only sorry he pulled away so soon, she feels the warmth of his arms around her fading, but the memory remains. “Kurt, don’t be. If anyone is in the wrong here, it’s me. I’ve seen the changes in you, I know you’re trying to work through whatever it is that’s in your way, but I know you’re not ready for all this yet. I shouldn’t have pushed you,” she says with a sigh, releasing the tension.

“You deserve so much better than this. Better than me.”

“Have you forgotten what I said about men on this ship telling me what I deserve, Captain?

“No, I haven’t, your Excellency,” he teases, with a smile.

“Good. Then stop telling me that I deserve better than a man who would put himself through hell for me. A man who would fight his own demons for me. Such a thing doesn’t exist. Not for me.”

“Greenblood…” Looking at her with a laser focus, his eyes gray storm clouds, Kurt hesitates. “I’m not strong enough to walk away from you. I’ll never be that strong. But if you decide you can’t wait…I’ll understand.”

She takes a tentative step closer, and when he holds his position, she edges closer until she can reach out and take his face in her hands, his stubble rough against her skin. “Kurt, I’ll wait for as long as it takes,” she whispers into his ear, nuzzling her face into his neck before she steps back and into her cabin.

Leaning against the door, she listens for his steps to move away before she lets all of her feelings rush over her, her breathing ragged and her heart beating like a drum in her chest. Taking several deep breaths, she waits to regain her composure.

When she finally steps through her door into the hall, she hears familiar steps following behind her and she smiles to herself as they walk almost together to the mess for breakfast. Once in the line, Kurt picks up both their plates while she grabs two coffees and they come together at their usual table near the door.

A short while later Constantin drags himself out of his room and into the mess, seating himself next to her, stealing her coffee before resting his head on the table.

“Cousin, are we feeling under the weather this morning?”

“What did you do to my drink?”

“Constantin! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” She feigns offense but she’s covering a smile when he looks up.

“Did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Your cousin didn’t need to do anything considering how much you drank last night, Constantin.”

“Apologies, dear Elizabeth. I think I shall go back to bed until my head stops pounding and my stomach stops turning. Also, I’m taking your coffee, Kurt,” he says blithely as he finishes the one in his hand and grabs Kurt’s before he can stop him and is on his way out the door.

Elizabeth picks up her empty mug and refills it, grabbing Kurt another mug before she returns.

“You didn’t have to…thank you.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Graciously accepting a kindness.”

“I’ll work on it, your Excellency,” he says with a coy smile.

Gasping in fake surprise, she clutches her chest. “Was that a joke, Kurt?”

“Okay, now you’re making me regret it…”

“I’m sorry. It was an excellent attempt.”

Kurt stands and takes their plates and mugs to the kitchen, passing her quietly on his way out.

~Vasco~

Vasco gazes out across the sea, watching for signs of land. Tir Fradi is close, he knows it from the telltale sign of an occasional gull who never strays too far from land. Pulling out his spyglass, a beautiful blue and silver body with black scrolling, and extends it as he brings it up to his eye. Still no sight of land yet. Tomorrow. They’ll sight land tomorrow for sure.

He watches as Kurt appears on deck and awkwardly approaches the helm and stands beside him, looking out in the same direction, as if trying to see what he’s looking for.

“What is it that you see out there?”

“Nothing yet.”

“And that’s good?”

“It’s neither good nor bad. It just is, Kurt.

“Are all Naut Captains so cryptic, Vasco?”

Closing his spyglass and slipping it back into its sheath, he glances over at Kurt who fidgets with the buckles on his doublet. The man came out here with something to say, and not to chat about the horizon. “I feel like you want to talk about more than my job.” Vasco watches as he nods his head in that way he has, charmingly sweet and completely oblivious of it.

“I had an idea, something I want to do for de Sardet. But it involves getting her out of her cabin for a while this afternoon so I can get in.”

“I’m in. What do you need?”

“Without an explanation? You’re in?”

He snorts at the man, who stares back blankly. “The simple fact that you’re willing to trespass into her space is enough of a reason. It’s bold, Soldier. I like it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he replies with one arched brow.

“Do you need me to distract her? Is that it?”

“If you have the time.”

“No, no time at all, between all the looking out to sea and steering the ship for hours at a time…”

“Your sarcasm is noted, Sailor. Just keep her distracted until dinner. Please,” he adds with a smirk before he climbs back to the lower deck and steps through the hatch.

Training his eyes once again on the horizon, Vasco considers a way to help Kurt without revealing his hand to de Sardet.

~Elizabeth~

Vasco is up to something. He looks at her furtively and dances from one subject to the next as if he has no real indication of what he wants to say. Whatever this is about, she decides to play along and see where it leads. He and Kurt have become almost as thick as thieves at this point so it’s possible Kurt is the one who is up to something, and Vasco is merely a diversion.

“I appreciate the use of your stargazer, Vasco. It’s a beautiful instrument. My mother has one in her sitting room…though she can no longer use it.” She takes a quick inhaled breath thinking about her mother now the time has gone by so quickly.

“Are you okay?”

“I just realized how long it’s been since we departed Serene. My mother, she may be gone now.”

“I’m sorry, de Sardet.”

“Thank you.”

“You were supposed to keep her busy…not whatever this is.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that stargazing would end here…”

“It’s okay. Both of you. This is something I have to face. Accept.”

“I have something to show you, but if you’re not feeling up to it…”

“Of course, Kurt,” she says taking his hand and letting him lead her into the hatch and down the stairs.

She expects him to lead her into the parlor or the mess hall, but he leads her towards her room, and with every step, her anticipation grows. As they step through her door, which he gently closes behind them, she gasps softly at the transformation of her room. He has several small lanterns, turned down low, hanging all around her room, with paper stars attached to each one, and a moon in the center hanging over two covered platters and a wine bottle and glasses on a blanket in the middle of the floor.

Each lantern casts diffused arcs of light about the room, creating a soft glow around them. Kurt has created a picnic under the stars for her. It’s such a small thing, charming, but it’s also great and significant. Until this moment, he has never truly been alone in her room with her, and having him here, finally, feels like one more step forward for both of them.

“I know it’s silly,” he mutters, gesturing around the room, “but I wanted to do something for you.”

“Kurt…no one has ever done anything like this for me. It’s not silly. It’s sweet. Thank you.”

He pulls her further into her room, leading her to the blanket and pulling her down with him as he sits on one side. Following, she seats herself opposite him, waiting.

“I know things have been weighing on you, and when we arrive, which will be sooner than I hoped, you’ll have even more of a burden to carry. I’ll be there to help you carry it.”

Her hand still in his, he pulls it to his lips and brushes a kiss into the palm of her hand. Pulling him in, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, feeling his arms come up and around her, and she holds him for just a moment, basking in his comfort and admiration.

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve needed this…”

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to my senses.”

She sighs and slowly releases him from her embrace. “If I had sought comfort in you, I know you would have given it freely.” She sighs and continues, “Instead of wasting time on what ifs, let’s just forget all of that. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He nods and quietly pours the wine, handing her a glass. She watches as the light dances around the room, the lanterns swinging in tempo with the rocking of the ship. Suddenly, his hand is around her neck, pulling her closer, and his lips are pressing softly against hers, and she understands why he refused to be alone with her in her room.

The spike of desire that curls in her middle, the aching need, pushes her closer to the edge. If he feels even a fraction of what she feels when their lips meet, he’s fighting as much as she is for control. He quickly releases her, and they both breathe heavily without breaking eye contact.

“We…uh, we should eat.” He picks up the platter and lifts the cover revealing fish and grilled vegetables. “The only thing fresh now is fish.”

She takes her fork and lifts a bite to her mouth. “It’s perfect.”

For a while they eat in silence, Kurt occasionally refilling their glasses. Eventually, Elizabeth covers her platter and pushes it aside, leaning back against the bed with her knees pulled up in front of her and sipping her wine which she can feel already going to her head just a little.

Covering and pushing his own platter aside, Kurt empties the bottle, refilling both their glasses and leans against the tub behind him. “Greenblood, if, in the future, you need someone to hold you, to listen, I want to be that for you.”

“I want to be the same for you, Kurt.”

Kurt stands and reaches out for her, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “I should put out most of these lanterns before I set Vasco’s boat on fire.”

She laughs at the word boat, collapsing on the bed, watching as Kurt moves around the room putting all but the last lantern out. Standing, with her arm outstretched and her palm up, she twists her fingers growing a burning red flower in her hand to light the room as she puts out the last lantern.

Under the red glow, Kurt glances from her hand to her eyes, gazing at her intently. His hair a blaze of black flames, she runs her fingers through the soft curls, slipping her hand down his neck and reaching up, rocking forward on her toes, gently pulling his lip between hers before leading him out to the balcony where she shakes her hand over the waves, letting the sparks flutter into the sea.

“I’ve never seen you use your magic like that.”

“Well, that was just for you, Captain.”

“Damnit, I forgot the tray, the glasses…I’ll go take care of that and meet you in the parlor?”

She nods and makes her way around the back of the ship opening the doors. She picks up a random book and seats herself in the chair near the doors at the moment Kurt sneaks out her door and towards the kitchen. A few minutes later he returns and seats himself at the table some distance away from her

A knock at Sir de Courcillon’s door echoes loudly in the hall, sending a chill up Elizabeth’s spine. Vasco knocks again and stands with his arms folded behind his back. When Sir de Courcillon opens his door, Vasco invites the three of them to join the others on the deck. "We’re fortunate tonight! It seems we shall be entreated to a meteor shower. Several have already been spotted. You can't miss this when we’re at the end of our voyage!"

Elizabeth puts her book away and they follow Vasco up the stairs and to the deck to watch for the shower of falling meteors. It is a sight that most of them have never seen before. Constantin is already seated on the upper deck watching the sky and calls out when he hears his companions, "This is absolutely amazing! We've already counted more than a score!"

Sir de Courcillon finds a chair, which has been brought up from below and settles in off to one side, out of the way. “I”ve seen one of these before, but it has been many years. Might be many more before I have an opportunity to see one again.”

Elizabeth finds herself a spot where she can relax on a makeshift seat of large, coiled stacks of rigging off to the port side of the ship, allowing her lower half to sink into the coils as she leans back, resting her head on some more nearby. She has seen the occasional shooting star but has never seen a shower of them all at once.

She feels Kurt hanging back, deafening in his quiet while he finds a place to stand leaning against the rail nearly within reaching distance of her.

As the meteor shower hits its stride, they sit in silence, savoring the nearness, watching as one after another blazing rocks shoot from the sky, burning up as they fall. She thinks that she knows what that feels like, burning inside and outside while slowly incinerating until completely consumed.

~Kurt~

"Kurt, what’s the matter?" she asks without glancing in his direction.

He shakes his head and instead of saying all the things he wishes he could, he mutters, "Nothing, Greenblood."

"Is it what Vasco said, about how we’re at the end of our voyage?"

Unwilling to lie to her he moves closer and reclines back on his own pile of rigging. "Yes. I thought we might still have a little more time. And I know what you said. In truth, all of this is more than I ever dreamed of…even if this is all there is."

It is little comfort, however, as he is considering the words of Vasco ringing inside his head like bells tolling the end. He cannot help but to brood over the knowledge that this time, which has made him so happy, is nearly over.

Her promises fail to ease his worry. She means them, he knows that, but she can't possibly know what will happen once they land. He glances down and sees her face staring up at him, concerned. He places his hand lightly on the nape of her neck, feels her skin prickling and her hair standing on end. Her own hand finds its way to rest on top of his for a moment as they watch the sky rain down fire.

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth watches as Captain Vasco squints in the blinding sunlight, hands clasped behind his back, walking by casually to the bow of the ship. He leans forward, placing both hands on the railing and peering out to sea. Suddenly, hundreds of seabirds come into view flying all around him, but he neither flinches nor moves. Elizabeth and Constantin, drawn by the commotion, walk up behind him as the birds continue passing over and around them.

"Tir Fradi! Ahoy!" Lauro yells from a crow's nest on the foremast.

Slowly, landforms begin to take shape through the mist and clouds and a mountain rises from the island before them. The long journey across the sea has reached its end. Elizabeth turns to see Kurt standing off to the side behind them. His gaze travels from the face of the mountain to hers and finally to the deck below. They have run out of time. He turns and returns below deck.

Following immediately after, she catches him entering his quarters. "Kurt..."

He pauses and turns to face her. "I know, Greenblood, nothing changes between us. We knew it couldn't last."

"Things will be a little hectic at first, but I think that we’ll still be able to find time once formalities have been taken care of…I promise to try."

"Your responsibilities come first. As they should. I'll do what I can to support you."

She watches him retreat quietly to his room, a pang of guilt and fear gripping her heart.

In her own room, Elizabeth quickly pulls her garments from the wardrobe and tosses them into the trunks that now lie open around the bed. She takes the pendant from the drawer and puts it around her neck before slipping it beneath her jacket. She hears Kurt's door open and close and his footsteps pausing right outside her own door before moving on to the stairs.

She is tempted to call him back but decides it is better to leave it for now. She can't make any more promises to him that she might have to break. They knew this day was quickly approaching. Had known it for days now. But she didn't expect it to be so hard.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

A feeling of hopelessness washes over him as he watches the dock grow closer and the lifeless sails furled, like shrouds, as if the shouts of the crew on deck were the last rites spoken over the passing of their life at sea.

His words, “even if this is all there is,” haunt him now in spite of how genuinely felt and spoken they were at the time. There was a time when he might have been able to settle for that, to find some peace within himself to let her go and move on, but that’s no longer possible as long as she still wants him.

The ship moored and the anchors dropped, rattling the entire deck, Kurt watches Constantin and Elizabeth from a distance. His job has now officially changed again at the new governor’s behest, ordered to stay close to his cousin and keep her safe from all harm. A job Kurt is eager to take on even if most of their time is taken up with her responsibilities as Legate.

When the gangplank lowers, Constantin steps up quickly, sure to be the first one off the ship. Kurt pays him little mind, focused instead on Elizabeth as she says goodbye to a few members of the crew. Jonas, in particular, seems distraught, stopping her and squeezing her in a hug before stepping back nervously.

Glancing back to Constantin, he sees him surrounded by three doctors in plague masks, the one in the middle tilting his head quizzically while shoving a bowl at the young governor. Though Constantin pushes it away, they shove the bowl at him again as he makes a gesture mimicking the shape of their masks.

Kurt moves to intervene until a woman wearing a deep red dress with a white collar and petticoat comes up from behind the doctors pushing them aside as she passes between them. She takes the bowl of liquid and passes it to Constantin who takes a drink and grimaces.

When he spies Elizabeth descending the gangplank, now carrying her own bowl, he begins to move closer, curious what the liquid is. Constantin turns to his cousin and says something which Kurt is still too far off to make out. Elizabeth responds by holding up her bowl, toasting loudly, "To your health!" and knocking back the liquid before he can reach her.

She bows reverently to the lady at Constantin’s side who then follows him hastily away from the docks, looking around nervously, as he strolls off without waiting for any escorts or guards and she is left chasing after him as they disappear out of sight.

Kurt approaches somberly on Elizabeth's left side following her gaze to where Vasco is arguing fervently with a woman much shorter than he is. He watches the animated conversation for a moment, Vasco appearing to be rather unhappy about whatever is being said, until he hears Elizabeth take a few steps away in the direction of the city and he quickly turns, following along, trying not to fall back into the role of hired mercenary like he had back in Serene. That had completely blown up in his face. Such a disaster. And one he does not wish to repeat.

~Vasco~

His Admiral storms up to him, trying to raise herself to his height, his cargo manifest in her hand and waved in his face. “Vasco, do you have any idea what happens to Captains who turn smuggler?”

“Yes, Admiral. But…” He hesitates. Even if he gives a confession, he will still be in trouble, grounded, perhaps permanently, if not arrested and court-martialed.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she cuts him off before he can make any excuses. “You may not have been involved, but you had to have seen the manifest and yet, you failed to mention it?”

Admiral Cabral may be small, but she is fierce, and her word is gospel within the confines of the port. He towers over her, but still, he has done his utmost to never come up on her bad side. Yet here he is.

“I’m sorry, Admiral. I’ve only just disembarked.”

“I have no choice, Captain Vasco, but to ground you until further notice while we investigate this matter.”

“Ground me? That hardly seems right.”

“That is my final decision on the matter. In the meantime, why don’t you make yourself available to the new Legate. Keep an eye on her and offer your assistance.”

“Why?”

“That’s an order, Captain.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

As he watches his Admiral stalk away back towards the harbor offices, Vasco considers hunting de Sardet down and bringing her back to Cabral, hoping she can fix his predicament. But she just might try to confess and make things even worse for all of them. No, the best thing for now is to let it lie, hope it blows over.

Stomping away, he instead walks the plank back up to the ship’s deck and trudges slowly to his cabin. Inside, he packs up his clothes and a few personal effects, notably including his rum, in a small trunk and takes a long look around before he steps back on land and off his ship for who knows how long.

Despite New Serene being his home port, he rarely makes his way further than the market where he often heads first to eat his fill of fresh fruit. He usually stays in his cabin or in the inn at the port and dines in the tavern during shore leave between contracts. This time, he wants to avoid his men and other Nauts as the news will certainly spread quickly and the thought of facing the humiliation aches deep within him.

Wandering aimlessly away from the port, he stops in the general store and buys a bottle of cheap rum, drinking directly from the bottle as he passes through the market where he buys some grapes, plucking them one by one from the vine with his mouth. Vasco begins to get a light and buzzing head from the drink and, stumbling along, he finds himself headed for the coin tavern.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Now that he finds himself alone with Elizabeth, Kurt follows along easily, even though he wants to go back and check on Vasco. They walk briskly in the general direction of the palace, which rises above the rest of the city to the northwest of the port.

“Greenblood, where do you want to go first?”

Without stopping, she replies in a weary voice, “All I want right now is a decadent meal, a luxurious bath…and a peaceful night’s sleep on solid ground.”

Living at sea gave them freedom and he would never forget the moments they spent together, but now that they are on land, he too looks forward to a few comforts mostly denied for such a long time. An actual bath at the barracks, a meal with fresh meat and vegetables, maybe even some fresh fruit.

He smiles. “You and me both…” he says, reddening at the implication but, if she noticed, she says nothing.

They walk past several warehouses, which the Nauts are filling with cargo from the ships, passing to and fro around them. Kurt watches and then follows with his gaze as Elizabeth glances back over her shoulder at their Captain who is still in a heated discussion with his Admiral. Turning his gaze back in the direction they are walking, they pass through an arch that separates the port from the city.

Immediately the sights and sounds and even the smell changes. Gone is the salty sea breeze, and the wood plank walkways, the sound of gulls in the harbor. Now the streets are paved with stones and the air filled with scents from the nearby market, vendors calling out their wares, the sound of their boot heels on the stone under their feet.

Further up the street, they begin to pass some shops. A patisserie with pastries displayed in the window, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting out and filling the air, which they breathe deeply. Then the butcher, with cuts of meat hanging behind his counter and the sound of a cleaver chopping against flesh and bone.

When they reach the open market, they discover baskets of colorful fruit and vegetables laid out before them. Kurt watches as Elizabeth dips her fingers into a basket of peas, smiling at the feeling of them rolling against her skin, scooping some out and letting them fall from her palm like a waterfall. She quickly scoops up two plump oranges, flips the merchant a silver coin and blindly tosses one of the fruits back over her shoulder. He easily catches it and happily begins to eat, palming the skin as he peels it away.

Continuing on their way, she excises a slice from her own orange, biting into the flesh, allowing the sweet juice to flood her mouth, a soft groan of pleasure escapes her lips and Kurt stops in his tracks, momentarily undone. When she stops slightly ahead of him, he picks up his pace and catches up, walking next to her, a slight reddening tingeing his cheeks.

Beyond the food market, he follows closely at her side greedily munching on his orange as they enter the main square. The sound of hammering and bellows catches his attention and draws him away as he turns right through an arch to find the smiths and forges, Elizabeth now following lazily behind him.

A sudden low rumble in his stomach reminds him of what she said about just wanting food, a bath and sleep. “It can wait,” he says softly and turns back towards the square where a large statue of the Prince rises above them in the center. He watches carefully as Elizabeth looks harshly up at the face of her uncle, who even now seems to have her under his eye. Kurt gently touches her shoulder in a knowing way.

Just as she is about to say something, from their left, a palace messenger approaches tentatively. “Lady de Sardet?”

Kurt immediately jerks his hand back and drops it to his side.

Nodding her head, she walks in his direction and says, “Yes, I’m Lady de Sardet. What can I do for you?”

“Your cousin, Governor d’Orsay, sent me to show you to your estate.”

“My…estate?”

“Officially it belongs to the Congregation, of course, but it is yours during your tenure as Legate. Follow me.”

She glances curiously at Kurt who shrugs his shoulders and they both follow as the messenger leads them to the south of the square, just left of the palace stairs. The house sits tucked back behind a courtyard that surrounds a small garden area with a fountain in the middle. The house itself is rather large, Kurt noting that it is built to accommodate more than just the Legate of the Congregation.

Handing her the key, he says, “Your luggage and personal effects should be delivered soon. We made sure they had the highest priority. There are a few furnishings left to be delivered as well but that will likely be done tomorrow. Also, your uncle had a cook and a maid hired but feel free to hire your own if you prefer.”

“Thank you.”

The messenger bows and retreats, leaving the two companions to explore the house and grounds on their own. Elizabeth walks through the garden, stopping at the fountain, lily pads floating on top of the water and fish swimming around below. Her hands slip over the hedging as she follows Kurt. He gently takes the key from her hand and walks to the door, slipping the key into the lock and turning it.

Upon entering, they find the place dark and cool. There is a large fireplace in the corner of the sitting room, and he can imagine sitting in front of it with his arms around her, the thought alone warming and comforting. He drops his duffel nearby and immediately begins to build a small fire leaving her to wander around the room.

Once the fire is crackling, he grasps Elizabeth’s fingers and leads her through an arch to the left into a large dining room, which leads them further to the kitchen where they both leave their oranges half eaten for now. Kurt starts another fire, this one in the stove, before filling several large pots with water while Elizabeth watches from the door.

“Greenblood, I’ll draw you that bath…”

“Kurt, that really isn’t your job.”

“I don’t see anyone else here. Besides, I want to.”

“Thank you…” she says placing a hand on his shoulder and he backs away trying to be nonchalant about it.

With a fire in the stove to heat water and a fire in the fireplace to warm the house he then busies himself with heating and carrying water upstairs to her private bath which is actually shared between the master suite and the room next door. Across the hall he notices a guest bathroom and several other guest rooms.

When he returns downstairs, a knock at the door has Elizabeth receiving delivery of her trunks, which she has the delivery men carry upstairs and leave in the hall. During his trips to fill her bath, he occasionally glances through the open door as she unpacks while she waits for her bath to be ready. He notices that she quickly stuffs something into the wardrobe before he can see what it is.

Finally, leaning against the doorframe, Kurt says, “It’s ready. I have a few things I need to do anyway so take your time and we’ll have something to eat after I return?”

She nods and smiles. “Thank you, again, Kurt.”

“Anytime,” he says as he turns and immediately retreats down the stairs to give her privacy.

Kurt returns to the kitchen looking for the pantry. Before he does any shopping, he checks to see what the cook has already purchased and finds most of the dry goods they might need. There are also several expensive looking bottles of wine in the cellar.

He takes the key and leaves the house, being sure to lock it carefully behind him. As he leaves the courtyard, he grabs the first guard he sees and walks him to the gate. “Soldier, you stay right here until I return. You don’t leave and you don’t let anyone…and I mean anyone, enter. You got it?”

“Yes, Captain!”

Kurt turns and heads back towards the market. He would have liked to take a bath himself, but it can wait. Making good first impressions is not his duty. Rather he is merely there to ensure Elizabeth’s protection.

No, he’s more than that. That kiss, it still burns in his memory. There was something absolutely pure but also completely carnal about it. A kiss that was unblemished and yet it also stirred something deep within him, a desire so strong he was fighting it even now.

Reaching the market, he ducks into the butcher shop where he buys two perfect pink filets, which are wrapped in paper and stuffed into the crate at his side. Next, he walks slowly through the open market, eyeing the fruit and vegetables, selecting the juiciest looking carrots and string beans, strawberries and grapes. Inside the creamery, he purchases cheese, butter, milk and cream. Finally, in the patisserie, he selects a loaf of freshly baked bread and a tiny white cake topped with coconut, boxed and tied with string, before returning to the house.

Seeing the guard still standing where he left him, he says, “At ease, soldier,” and slips a few coins into his hand dismissing him.

As he reenters the house and locks the door, he neither sees nor hears Elizabeth. Leaving the crate on the counter in the kitchen, Kurt stokes the fires in both the fireplace and the stove then returns to the sitting room and climbs the stairs slowly, making enough noise to announce his presence. When he reaches the top of the stairs, he hears the sound of water draining from the tub.

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth removes the pins from her hair, leaving them on the wide cabinet in the bathroom. Then she lays out her soap and hair wash on top of a large towel on the low stool next to the tub before she disrobes and slips comfortably down into the perfectly heated water, filled to just the right depth. This tub is much larger than the one in Vasco’s cabin and it feels like forever since she had a proper bath, reveling in the beautiful softness of the water lapping around her skin, prickling it. For a long time, she simply soaks in the bath salts, letting her hair flow around her, her hands making gentle waves.

Thinking about how Kurt had carried all this water up, just for her, makes her flush in both happiness and shame. He deserves to take a proper bath just as much as she does. When he returns, she will insist that he does before retiring, even if she has to carry every bucket herself.

Retiring... She still needs to finish exploring the house and to decide where he will sleep. Nearby of course. She finds herself suddenly in a hurry to finish her bath so she can look around before Kurt returns. She quickly runs the bar of soap over her skin and washes her hair, sinking under the water to rinse it, finally squeezing the excess water out with her head over the tub before wrapping it in a towel.

She knows Kurt always notices her in her light blue jacket, so she digs through the wardrobe to find it and pairs it with the brown pants that hug her curves just ever so slightly. Listening at her door for any sounds she quickly darts out into the hall, finding four more rooms on the second floor and a sixth room on the third floor. One room, the largest of the guest rooms on the second floor, connects to her private bath.

First, she drags Kurt’s trunk from the hall into the room and then she hurries downstairs and grabs Kurt’s duffel from the floor near the fireplace and carries it upstairs, placing it on his trunk. He will resist, try to sleep downstairs, but she will not take no for an answer.

As she passes back through the bath, she grasps the chain and pulls the plug, letting the water drain and tossing her towel over the curved lip of the tub. In front of the mirror, she runs her fingers through her hair, leaving it down to dry.

Boots pound on the stairs and she calls out, “Kurt?” hoping it’s her loyal guard.

“I’ll be downstairs…”

“Wait…” She leans out through the bathroom door before he manages to get far, and her fingers dart out but only manage to graze his arm.

He turns and his eyes widen. Casting his gaze down at his feet, he says, “Come down when you’re ready…”

She follows right behind him as he descends the stairs, through the dining room and to the kitchen where he begins taking the fish and vegetables out of the crate on the counter and pulling pans from the wall. She had no idea Kurt even knew how to cook but watching him season the fish and vegetables then sear and sauté them, moving from one to the other is like watching the man fence. Or dance.

Articulated movements, stirring and flipping, timing everything perfectly, he moves rather gracefully around the kitchen. Occasionally, he glances at her with a heated look before tearing his eyes away, back to his cooking.

Sitting on the counter, she reaches into the nearby crate and pulls out a small bunch of grapes. Popping one in her mouth, biting into the flesh, Elizabeth relishes the sweet flavor, almost forgotten. When Kurt turns his head, she quickly tosses a grape at his head, which he impressively manages to catch without missing a beat. He smiles at her, cocking his brow and turns back to the food, which sizzles deliciously.

“So, you’re a man of many talents, it seems. I guess I had barely skimmed the surface while we were at sea.”

“Soldiers don’t have the luxury of having servants to cook and clean for us, your Excellency.”

“Well, can I help in some way?”

“There’s not really much to do, but you could take the milk and put it downstairs in the cellar. And choose a wine while you’re down there.”

She nods enthusiastically. Hopping down from the counter, she pulls the milk out and carries it to the basement door, creating a bloom of fire in her hand before she tries to negotiate the stairs. Shivering in the cold, she quickly leaves the milk in the icebox and grabs a bottle of wine before running back up the stairs, closing the door firmly behind her and locking it.

“Now what?”

“If you must, you can take that bread, cut off two slices and spread butter over them…” he says motioning to the loaf of bread on the wood board nearby.

She could do that. Sure. She looks around for a knife until he places a long blade with a serrated edge in her hand with a grin. Her first slice is a disaster, smashed and torn to bits, which she nibbles on hungrily as she makes another attempt. After getting a feel for the softness of the bread, and the feel of the blade in her hand, the next two slices are better, even if a little rough. She squeals in delight at the accomplishment and hears a soft chuckle from her loyal guard next to her.

He then takes the blade and slips a spreading knife into her hand, his fingers lingering on hers for just a moment. This knife is more familiar. Similar to the ones used in the palace to spread jams and creams over sweet rolls. She carefully slices off the thinnest slivers of butter, dropping them onto the warm bread where they melt softly into little puddles that she spreads over the crumb.

The scents of the food, the seasoned fish and vegetables, the sweet fruits and sharp cheese, warm bread, combines to make the most mouth-watering aroma. On a shelf on the opposite wall, she finds a stack of plates and takes two of them down, placing a slice of bread on each one, leaving them next to the stove while she grabs the bottle of wine and pops the cork, sitting it aside while the food finishes cooking. On the shelf where she found the plates, she grabs two wine goblets and leaves them next to the bottle.

Returning to the crate, she discovers a box tied with a string in the bottom and Kurt quickly takes it from her and sets it aside. “That is a surprise.”

She huffs at him and then tosses another grape, delighted when he catches it.

Kurt takes a serving knife and places a filet on each plate, followed by the roasted carrots and grilled string beans, then carries the plates to the dining room, placing them on opposite sides of the long table. He motions to a chair, which he pulls out and pushes back in after she takes a seat. Retrieving the wine and goblets, he pours each of them a glass before sitting across from her.

“Kurt,” she shakes her head in disbelief, “this is amazing. You really didn’t have to do this, to go to all this trouble…”

“I know. But you said you wanted a decadent meal and though this is nowhere near that extravagant, I wanted to do something to make your first night in New Serene...special.”

Her heart swells with adoration for this man. No one has ever done anything like this for her before. Sure, she has had people wait on her and serve her, but no one has ever done it simply because they wanted to. There is always something to gain or a duty to fulfill. No one had ever just wanted to make her happy. Except for Kurt.

He suddenly jumps up, jogging back to the kitchen. She hears him digging through drawers, the metallic clanking of utensils before he returns with a pair of forks. “No fancy place settings tonight I’m afraid,” he says placing the fork beside her plate.

“It seems we’re lucky not to be eating with our hands while sitting on the floor. The bedrooms and kitchen seem to be the only rooms fully furnished just yet.”

Picking up her fork, she gently picks up a small bite of flaky fish, bringing it to her lips. It melts in her mouth, the buttery flavor enhancing it. She moans softly and says, “Kurt, that’s incredible!” Golden brown carrots disappear into her mouth eliciting more moaning. As she curls her tongue around a string bean and pulls it greedily into her mouth, she moans out, “So good…”

~Kurt~

Kurt shifts in his seat. Taking a large drink of wine, he gulps it down too fast and coughs out in choked gasps. The sounds that she is making, the way she used her tongue, and the words coming from her mouth have him hanging on by the slightest thread.

Watching her intently, his Greenblood revealed to him with each passing moment as though he were peeling back layers of nobility and discovering the woman he loves beneath it all. Getting over his initial surprise, he begins to enjoy the experience of watching her eat. Her mask finally completely gone, she is more herself than he has ever seen her, the restrained noble left outside the front gate.

Throughout dinner, the conversation easily flows between them like wine. When she laughs, she laughs out loud, with her head thrown back. Her walls crumble as she transforms right before his eyes. She is charming and graceful without being rigid or stuffy. And when the conversation lulls, they sit in a comfortable silence sipping the wine.

He stands and gathers both their plates and carries them to the kitchen to do the washing up, but she is on his heels and skips around him in an instant beating him to the sink where he left the pans soaking. She plunges her delicate hands into the water and begins to wash them refusing to budge. He relents, moving next to her and begins to rinse and dry, doing the work with her. When they finish, he picks up the box and two forks and moves to the table waiting for her to return.

Finding her way back to her seat, she picks up one end of the string and looks at him as if asking for permission. He nods, waiting for her to reveal the tiny cake inside.

She gasps and exclaims loudly, “My favorite!” and picks up a large flake of coconut with the tip of her finger, placing it on her tongue, savoring the flavor. He holds up a fork in front of her, which she swipes, and they devour the entire cake one delicious bite at a time.

She quickly takes the two forks to the sink, washing and drying them, replacing them in the drawer. Then she turns to Kurt and insists, “It’s your turn for a bath. I will not take no for an answer even if I have to fill the damn tub entirely by myself.”

“Yes, your Excellency,” he replies, bowing low.

After some discussion on exactly how much water he needs, Elizabeth overrides his opinion and insists on a full bath. They begin heating water on the stove, and she leads him upstairs carrying buckets of hot water to the private bath.

“The other bath is more than adequate, Greenblood.”

“Well, as I’ve put your trunk and your bag in the other room, I don’t see why you shouldn’t just use this one.”

He leans in and glances through the open door to the right and sees she did in fact bring his bag up and that his trunk is next to the bed. This is a development he had not considered though it’s not at all unwelcome. But it does complicate matters. They will be sleeping in closer proximity to each other now than they had on the ship.

“I should be sleeping downstairs.”

“You’ll be sleeping where I feel you’re most useful, Kurt.”

“And you don’t think that downstairs, between you and any possible intruders, is where I would be most useful?”

“There are guards just to the north of the gates and the front door is locked. If anyone were to sneak in, they would be much more likely to come in through a second-floor window, in which case you being close would be more useful.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that. Though I really hate the fact that you outrank me now.”

She smiles devilishly and stands up straight with her shoulders pulled back, turning in a pantomime of haughtiness. He follows as they return downstairs to fill the buckets with more hot water from the stove. Once the tub is filled, she places a bar of soap and a fluffy towel on the small table by the tub before exiting to let Kurt bathe.

Peeling off his clothes and stepping into the tub, he is grateful for her insistence that he take a proper bath. He’s never bathed in a private tub as large as this one and he can see how nobility can get so spoiled on such an extravagance. The slanted incline supporting his back, the length of the tub letting him stretch out and sink entirely under the water. He’ll be as spoiled as a noble in no time.

He eyes the bar of soap resting on top of the towel next to the tub and gingerly picks it up, raising it curiously to his nose, inhaling the scent, which, to his surprise, is a minty type of aroma. That he can handle rather than the floral scent that always hangs on Elizabeth. Not that he finds it unpleasant. On the contrary, it smells nice on her. Her hair always smells like wildflowers.

His thoughts drift back to her hair, damp and loose, hanging over her shoulders, his favorite blue jacket that brings out the blue in her eyes, those brown pants she knows fit her in a certain way, her figure, which he could trace it with his eyes closed, just discernable beneath the layers of cloth. He finds himself shifting his body around again and contemplating what to do with himself. Either get it out of the way or try to maintain a shred of decency…

In the end, practicality wins. He washes his hair, rinsing it in the clear water and then scrubbing his body and giving himself a quick release, pulling the plug and allowing his shame to swirl down the drain.

~Elizabeth~

Downstairs, Elizabeth has taken the liberty of carving off a few slices from the cheese wheel and a hunk of bread and arranging them with the fruit and a small bowl of cream that she whipped with a little sugar and completed by the last of the wine on a tray that she places on a stool before the fireplace. Sitting on the rug, her back is propped against the wall, knees raised with her arms around them, hands clasped together. Waiting.

Not long after she hears the water draining from the tub, she hears Kurt’s familiar steps descending the stairs. When he appears at the landing, she sees he has worn a simple pair of pants and shirt. No uniform. No boots. No hat. This is the least formal she has ever seen him, and he is a sight.

He draws close and sits facing her from the other edge of the narrow rug, one knee raised, his body propped back on his hands. His damp overgrown hair a wavy mess on top of his head, she reaches over and combs her fingers through it, taming it just a little, giving him a small smile.

She offers him the wine bottle, which he takes, their fingers touching for a moment, taking a sip and handing it back. Pulling a small stem full of grapes from the bunch, she begins to toss them at him watching him catch every one. When he picks up a handful, she opens her mouth and leans back wanting him to toss one to her.

“Okay, Greenblood, but you have to loosen up. Relax. And don’t choke on the damned things.”

His aim is perfect, and he throws the first one right into her open mouth. She bites into it releasing the sweet juice and pulp.

“Okay, this time I’m not gonna just give it to you. The way you can catch a sword, you can catch a measly grape.”

She sits flat on her behind and lets her body relax.

He tosses the grape up high, and she watches for where it falls, darting her open mouth in the right direction barely catching it but Kurt still encourages her and says, “Well done. Again?”

She nods and they keep at this game, finishing off the wine in-between taking turns tossing and catching grapes, until the last one lands perfectly in her mouth. Kurt reaches over and ruffles her hair playfully which sends her to the floor in a fit of laughter, her head spinning.

Something about lying on her back with him staring down, hovering over her, pure adoration in the steel of his eyes, kindles a fire deep inside her. Suddenly, she wants him to take her upstairs and to his bed. She stares up at him, her chest heaving, every nerve in her body charged, she tries to say without words that she wants him.

~Kurt~

Picking up a strawberry and dipping it into the whipped cream, he offers it to her. Still laying on the floor, instead of taking it from him, she opens her mouth waiting for him to bring it to her lips. As she takes a bite, drops of cream drip on her lip. Barely able to believe he is about to do it, he leans in and kisses her, taking most of the cream with him, licking it from his own lips.

She reaches up and slips her hands around his shoulders. Her tongue slips out of her mouth and licks the rest of the cream away as she looks up into his eyes, saying nothing but looking at him in a way that ignites something inside him. His hands grip her jacket and pull her up and into his arms and there is a moment where he almost pushes her away, but, instead, he pulls her in, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw down to her neck.

When their lips meet, it’s like fire meeting ice, and she melts right through him as she pulls his lip between hers. In his head, alarms blare but he ignores them at first. Until her hands reach down and begin to work at the buttons on her jacket, opening it and beginning to slip it off.

With a gasp, he pulls away and mutters, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He stands to leave but her hand grasps his and it is the night they danced all over again. Him trying to leave and her holding him there.

His free hand reaches up and rubs his forehead roughly, as if trying to rub away his shame. He turns back and kneels beside her, leaning in, his arms slipping around her before he breaks away gently, gasping painfully and whispers, “I’m just…not good for you right now. I still have things I need to work through before I can be the man you deserve. If you can give me more time, Greenblood…”

She nods and says, “Of course, Kurt. All the time you need,” reaching a hand up to his face, her thumb slipping over his most prominent scars. He watches painfully as she stands and carries the tray silently to the kitchen. When she passes back through the sitting room, he feels her pressing into his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his suddenly frail body before padding quietly up the stairs to her room.

Once she is out of sight, Kurt climbs quietly to his room separated from hers by nothing but a door. For a moment, he looks to his left at the door that stands between him and his one desire. The urge strikes to break it down, to rend it to pieces. But it’s too late now.

Being near Elizabeth gets easier every day, but he knows he’s still not ready to cross that line with her. He knows what he needs to do to move forward, and Vasco promised to help him. Tomorrow, he will find him at the port and begin the search for Hermann so he can be done with this once and for all.

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

Vasco wakes in the morning with a dull pounding in his head. In a strange bed. In a strange room. Not the cabin on his ship. Then it hits him, it’s no longer his ship. He’s been grounded. Youngest Captain in the fleet. Grounded. Indefinitely.

The realization hits him right in his center, an ache that pulses through his middle. Or it could be the contents of his stomach trying to come back up...

He drags himself up, sitting at the edge of the bed for a moment with his head cradled in his hand, full of regret from the previous day, before he rolls out of bed, locates his boots, coat and hat, slipping them on as he steps through the door. As he descends the stairs, Vasco finds himself in the Coin tavern where he must have rented a room after having one too many drinks the night before. Unusual for him, but after the day he had no one could blame him.

Everything he spent years working so hard for…gone. His family, his home, his future. All taken from him in an instant. But that’s not entirely the truth. He had made choices, and this was the consequence of his own thoughtless actions.

Serves him right helping with those crates. Why hadn’t he just dumped them overboard? Cabral had chewed him up one side and down the other over those stupid crates. It hardly mattered that he had no involvement, so far as she knew anyway, she still punished him for the fact that they had made it on his ship.

He had been so close. A few more years and he would have made Fleet Commander. Now he’ll never be able to get his hands on his file and get his answers. Dammit. Why did the noble have to be so damn charming? Now he’s lost everything because of her.

But, then again, maybe there is a way. She owes him and she is the Legate of New Serene.

He leaves the pub and walks slowly in the direction of the palace, stopping once along the way to purge the contents of his stomach in an alleyway, wiping the back of his glove across his mouth and leaning against the wall. When he reaches the square, he sees a large manor tucked in next to the palace, the Congregation symbol emblazoned on the gate. Treading dust across the square, he slips through the gate trudging his way to the door.

Banging the knocker firmly against the striking plate he hears a commotion inside and smirks at the slight irritation he’s caused. When no one answers the door, he slams the knocker even harder despite the throbbing ache in his own head. This time he hears an annoyed but feminine voice cursing him just before the door is jerked open and a disheveled Elizabeth stares quizzically into his face.

“Vasco? What are you doing here?”

“Hell of a way to greet a friend. Good morning to you too, your Excellency.”

She narrows her eyes and stares at him. “I’m sorry, but do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No. I just woke up in a room at the Coin Tavern and came straight here.”

“Why did you sleep at the inn instead of on your ship?”

Now that is the crux of the matter. Why he drank too much. Why he stayed in an inn. Why he is at her door at this time of day.

“Oh, you haven’t heard? They found those crates you snuck on board, and I don’t have a ship anymore. Grounded. Indefinitely. Thanks for that, by the way.”

She steps aside and gestures toward the dining room. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” he says in a tone he hopes is reflective of the way he feels as he steps inside.

“I’m so sorry, Vasco. Maybe I can talk to your Admiral.”

“No,” he says quickly and shortly, shaking his head. “You’ve done enough where my Admiral is concerned. But I do know a way you can make it up to me.”

She eyes him closely and her eyebrows raise.

“Not like that. I just want you to help me retrieve my file.”

“What file?”

“I need to know where I came from, de Sardet, who my family is, why they gave me up. And since it seems unlikely that I’ll ever make Fleet Commander now, the only way I can think to get my hands on it is to steal it.

He follows her to the dining room where he seats himself at the table.

Elizabeth leans back against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “And you want me to help?”

“Unless you think you can somehow use your diplomatic skills, yes. It must be in the harbor master’s office.”

"Okay, I guess I do owe you. We’ll go down and check out the port after we’ve had some breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

“Morning, Sailor,” Kurt says from the kitchen without turning from the stove.

“Morning, Soldier.”

He watches as Kurt silently hands Elizabeth a plate without looking at her, which she brings into the dining room and places on the table before him, leaving a bottle of syrup next to it.

When she returns with a glass of juice, she stares down at him for a moment before saying, “Eat.”

As he beings to eat, he watches his new companions carefully. Elizabeth returns with her own plate and glass and sits quietly next to him. He notices when Kurt enters the room she stiffens and he sits on the far side of the table, neither far enough to be conspicuous nor close enough to be exactly friendly. But he knows. Something definitely happened from the time they disembarked until now.

If he had an idea what it was, he might say something, but, as it is, he minds his own business and pretends not to notice, keeping his eyes down on his plate as he makes his breakfast disappear. The pancakes were nice after such a long time without them, but the orange juice; they’ve been without fruit on the ship for several weeks now and it is a treat he greedily gulps down, hoping all the while that he can keep it down.

“Thank you, Kurt, I had no idea you could cook.”

Without looking up, Kurt clears his throat and replies, “Unlike the Nauts, Coin Guards don’t have a cook who goes everywhere we go. It’s basic survival.”

“So, how did you end up at the Coin tavern last night? Don’t you have one at the port?”

“Disgraced Captain seen by his men drowning his sorrows in drink…no, thank you.”

“I am truly sorry.”

Elizabeth looks at him sincerely and he finds himself unable to stay mad at her.

Kurt looks at her for the first time since Vasco arrived. “It’s my fault, Greenblood. You shouldn’t be taking the blame.”

“Oh, I’m the one who doctored the manifest, I am at least as much a part of this as you. If not more.”

So, she was the one. Of course. She would do anything for Kurt and that has been obvious to him from the moment they set sail back in Serene. For whatever reason, and however it concerned the soldier, those crates had to make it on his ship, and she made sure they did. Whatever is going on between them right now, there is love under it all. He can see it and feel if even if they cannot.

As Kurt finishes his breakfast, he stands and, looking at Elizabeth, he says, “Before we go down to the port, I need to stop off at the barracks. Check in with the quartermaster. Wait for me.”

Elizabeth nods but says nothing more until Kurt leaves the house, then she stands and begins carrying the dishes to the sink to wash them.

Vasco steps up next to her rinsing and drying them as she washes. “Feel like talking about it?”

“Vasco…”

“What happened?”

She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. “I honestly don’t know. Everything was perfect. We had a bath…”

At this, he raises his eyebrows, “Together?” he asks suggestively.

“No, you idiot,” she exclaims, pulling the towel from his hands and gently slapping him with it. “He filled the bath for me and then he went out and bought all this stuff to make me dinner. It was so sweet. And, after dinner, I made him let me help fill the tub so he could have a bath.”

“None of that sounds particularly terrible, de Sardet.”

“I waited for him, by the fire, and we sat together and then…he kissed me. But he immediately panicked. Told me he’s not good for me. Asked me if I can give him more time.”

Vasco feels the weight of Kurt’s secret, wishing he could tell her everything but knowing it would destroy his friendship with the man. “I can’t talk about what he’s going through, you know that, but even a hardened Naut Captain can feel the way he feels about you.”

“I’ll wait for as long as it takes, that’s not the problem. This morning he just seemed so distant, and it put me on edge.”

“Understandable. But you are going to have a lot on your docket and that is going to keep you busy and occupied while he figures out…whatever it is he needs to figure out.”

She nods and pulls the plug from the sink. “Thank you, Vasco, you are a kind man.”

With the wash finished, they both sit at the table sipping juice while they wait for Kurt to return.

If only she knew what he once wanted to do to her, she might not think him so kind. Her cousin, however, perhaps he might find an excuse to sneak into the palace and have another romp with him. Nothing else much to do with his time. Why not find his way to a little pleasure?

~Kurt~

Pulling the door closed behind him, Kurt drags himself through the courtyard passing through the gate and into the square. Still quite early, only a few people are out and about yet. He hears the clanging of the blacksmith’s hammer on the anvil, and he ambles off in that direction, his boots kicking up dirt every step of the way.

Getting closer, he watches the man at work for a few minutes and recognizes skill in his method. Glancing around he spots the Coin tavern sign. That means the barracks entrance is somewhere around a corner, so he heads off in that direction.

Leonardt was explicit in his instructions that Kurt make sure the quartermaster in New Serene took possession of the crates and he just wants to see this done now that it’s so close. Then he can forget about it, forget about Torsten, forget about…everything.

As he enters the barracks, passing through an archway, he spots a familiar face and he quickens his pace, glad to see his old friend.

The man standing in the middle of the room calls out, "Well I'll be damned! It's Captain Kurt!"

"Manfred! What are you doing here?”

“Made me quartermaster. You?”

“Escorting the Prince’s son and niece. As usual.”

"Lucky Kurt!"

Kurt leans in close, and says, in a conspiratorial whisper, “Listen, I came to check on that merchandise. Is everything in order?"

“Unfortunately, no. They’ve unloaded the crates into one of their warehouses and they’re well-guarded.”

"I was afraid of that. The Nauts discovered the forgery.”

“We can’t make a claim on them without raising some serious brows and the Commander was very explicit about keeping this as quiet as possible.” Manfred darts his eyes around the room.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“First, we have to find the right warehouse. And then we have to figure out a way around the guards.”

“We have other plans at the port tonight. Have your most trustworthy men ready after dark to come collect the crates on my signal. They’ll have to move fast.”

Manfred claps him on the back. “Thank you, Kurt.”

Again, he nods and passes back through the arch and out the door. His shoulders drop under the mounting weight of this task. He just hopes Elizabeth will be willing to help him once more after the way he behaved last night. Not the kiss, exactly. More so the way he pulled away from her. The way he must have made her feel. And then, this morning, that distance he had tried so hard to burn to a cinder.

He passes by the blacksmith this time without a glance up, eyes mostly at his feet, making his way back to the square and through the gate. In the courtyard, he lifts his chin, breathing in deeply before letting out a shaky sigh and crossing to the door where he inexplicably knocks.

When Elizabeth opens the door, her brow furrows, and she tilts her head. “Kurt, why are you knocking? You live here.”

“I…didn’t want to startle you.”

Vasco leans against the dining room door and glances his way with a curious smile on his face. “So, were they able to get the crates?”

He shakes his head and sighs. “No. They’re being guarded in one of the warehouses and we’re going to have to figure out which one and how to get around the guards.”

“First, you use my ship to smuggle your contraband, and now you want to sneak into one of our warehouses!"

“We’ve come this far. It would all be pointless if we don’t finish it,” Elizabeth says, with a steady gaze, eyes locked on his.

Vasco shakes his head and lets out a deep sigh. “I’m not saying I’m okay with this by any means, but considering I’ve already been grounded over it, and quite unfairly I might add, let's just say that this will be a little bit of revenge."

"How are we to know in which warehouse we'll find this damn cargo?"

Elizabeth looks at Kurt and shrugs. "I'm afraid we'll have to take a look at all of them."

"That won't be necessary. My entire cargo has been placed in the warehouse nearest to my ship. Your crates will be there."

“So, I suppose we should go and check out the warehouse and the harbor master’s office. Also, I would like to meet your Admiral and pay her my respects."

Reluctantly, he nods his head. “Okay, but you must swear you won’t mention the crates or the fact that you had anything to do with them. The last thing we need is for you to be thrown into the port jail.”

Kurt begins to object but she looks at him in a way that silences him. Instead, he follows Elizabeth and Vasco out the door and back towards the port. The sights and sounds are a stark departure from the squalor that had become the norm in Old Serene. Where there was so much rubble and decay there, here is growth and life, the smell of commerce rather than death. They all breathe easily as they pass down the street and through the arch at the edge of the city limit.

Kurt wrestles against his better judgment. The Nauts have complete authority over the port. Not even Constantin has any real authority over them. If they’re caught in one of the warehouses, they will end up in the port jail. All three of them. If he goes to jail, he can live with that, but not the Captain pulled unwittingly into his scandal. And definitely not her. A decision made, if it comes to it, he will take full responsibility and see them released.

~Elizabeth~

The Admiral sits behind a desk in a large inset area of the Harbor Office building. Seeing the three of them approach, she stands, revealing her diminutive stature, and says, "Good day, Milady."

"Please, call me de Sardet. I'm the emissary of the Congregation."

"And cousin to the Governor. I know exactly who you are. Enchanted! I’m Admiral Cabral. And I see that you're accompanied by one of our own. Hardy winds, Vasco!"

"Hardy winds, Admiral." Despite his current ire, Elizabeth realizes he obviously has a tremendous amount of respect for his Admiral, and it is plainly written on his face and denoted in his voice.

It would be fair to say that Elizabeth likes the Admiral right away. She may be petite, but she is obviously fierce and determined. A strong woman who has risen in a male dominated field. Her shrewd jade green eyes shaded by a fine but worn black leather tricorne that shows the experience of her years, the brim is adorned with many insignias showing her rise through the ranks.

“So, de Sardet, what can I do for you?"

"I simply wanted to give you my regards and to offer my assistance, should the need arise. Captain Vasco has been quite helpful and accommodating, and I would wish to return such favor."

"Thank you, Milady! I am honored by your words."

“Would it be alright if Captain Vasco were to show me around the port?”

“Of course. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Vasco leads them away and down to where his ship is moored, sprays of sea mist shooting up between the ship and the dock, and she notices the way he tries not to look at the Sea Horse, keeping his gaze fixed on the warehouse instead.

He nods in the direction of the warehouse and says, “That is where you will find your crates. Most of the other cargo should have been delivered or claimed by now so it shouldn’t be difficult to find.”

Elizabeth turns and walks back up the other side of the port with Vasco and Kurt following behind nonchalantly. “How do you propose we get the Nauts out of the way so the Coin guards can come and collect the crates?”

“The same way I plan to get into the Harbor Master’s office. I don’t want to see any Nauts hurt so I made some inquiries. The harbor office has an arrangement with Dieter, from the brothel. Girls come every night, with wine."

"You want us to spike the wine so that they're asleep during our search?"

Raising his eyebrow in a gesture that suggests he is aware of their own employment of such schemes, he says, "It is a proven technique."

"Right..." she mutters with a sly grin, "let's get the sleeping potion. Then we'll go see this Dieter."

As they pass back through the city, Elizabeth stops at the apothecary. As usual, no questions are asked of a noble procuring sleeping potions.

Vasco leads them to the Coin tavern where he spent the previous evening but stops at the stairs. “Why don’t you let me go speak to Dieter?”

“It’s not going to offend my sensibilities, Vasco.”

“You don’t need people talking about you being seen in a brothel, de Sardet.”

“Fine,” she says begrudgingly, passing him the sleeping potions before he disappears downstairs. She seats herself at a table watching as Kurt settles in across from her.

“Listen, Greenblood, I know I messed up last night. And I’m sorry.”

“Kurt, I understand. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ll wait however long it takes. This morning though, when I came downstairs, and you didn’t say anything…”

He reaches a hand across the table and quickly grazes hers before pulling his hand back to his lap. “I didn’t know what to say. I felt like a fool.”

“You’re no fool. Whatever is going on with you, I hope you know you can talk to me about it. But it doesn’t make you weak or foolish.”

She watches as he goes through several emotions at once, wanting to say something but seemingly unable to decide what. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay, Kurt. Just know I’m here if you change your mind.”

As Vasco reemerges from the stairwell, he walks right up to her with his hand out. “You owe me 100 gold, de Sardet. I had to grease his pockets to get him to agree but he promised that all the guards would be sleeping well tonight.”

~Kurt~

Back at the house, Kurt lets the three of them inside and stiffens when he hears voices coming from the kitchen. He puts out a hand to silence Elizabeth and Vasco and hold them back while he draws his sword and silently sneaks into the dining room. Seeing moving shadows, he makes no sound as he passes around the dining table, back against the wall, and peers over his shoulder into the kitchen. As he jumps into the room to take the intruders by surprise, one of them swings a skillet at his head, which he manages to duck and grab in one movement.

The two women scream, backing away in an attempt to flee, frantically trying to open the back door while looking over their shoulders at him in absolute terror. Kurt simply watches them, head cocked to the side with the skillet still held out before him like a shield. “Greenblood! I think I’ve just met your cook and your maid.”

She quickly appears through the doorway and doubles over laughing at all three of them while taking the skillet from his hand and placing it on the stove. “I’m so sorry for my loyal guard, ladies. He can be overprotective. I am Lady de Sardet.”

The two women begin to calm down and move back toward Elizabeth still watching Kurt who has yet to sheath his sword. Elizabeth turns to him and nods at the sword, which he reluctantly sheaths, before leaning back against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Lady de Sardet, apologies for scaring you. My name is Juliet, I’ll be doing the cooking, and this is Abigail, the maid. Lady Morange oversaw our appointments, and we would be happy to stay on if you like,” she says with a sense of hopefulness in her voice.

“It seems to me you’re the ones who were startled so I apologize. And I see no reason not to keep you both on.”

Both women sigh in relief. Juliet is a short, plump woman with deep brown eyes and a round face framed by dark curls. Abigail is a short, thin woman with hazel eyes and blonde hair fixed in a small tidy bun worn low on her head.

“Can I serve you some lunch, Miss?”

Elizabeth glances around at her companions, who nod enthusiastically, before looking back at Juliet. “What would we be having?”

“It’s nothing fancy, but I have some shepherd’s pie cooling in the oven, if it pleases you.”

“Sounds perfect, Juliet, thank you.”

She watches as the woman pulls the dish from the oven releasing the aroma of the potatoes and meat into the air. Elizabeth grabs five plates from the shelf and places them on the counter. “I know it’s not customary, ladies, but it’s never sat right with me to make anyone eat separately, and this is now my own home where I can make the rules. Please join us in the dining room. Whatever duties you have can wait.”

“Oh, madam, that just wouldn’t be right.”

Kurt snorts from over her shoulder. “The sooner you ladies learn that she always gets her way, the better.” He grabs the dish Juliet has just plated and sifts through a drawer for a fork before moving to the table and taking a seat.

“Kurt, I do not always get my way and you know it. But I admit I do most of the time,” she calls back at him over her shoulder.

He watches as Elizabeth begins to serve the food and each one of them takes a seat at the table next to the two women, seating herself directly across from him while Vasco takes the seat next to him.

“It’s true, ladies. If she doesn’t get her way, she makes her way, right de Sardet?” he asks with a wink.

She watches as Kurt tries to hide his smirk. “Right. Juliet and Abigail, this charming Naut is Captain Vasco,” she says gesturing at the sailor to Kurt’s right. “He will be taking one of the empty rooms upstairs so you may as well get used to him hanging around. And the charmer who scared you out of your wits is Captain Kurt,” she taunts him, “my loyal guard. He also has taken a room upstairs. I promise, he’s usually harmless.”

He raises his brows at her, but a warmth spreads through his chest. When she teases like this, he knows everything is going to be okay. It was a rough morning, after a long and rather sleepless night, but everything is alright now. Not forever, but for now. And that is as much of a promise as he can make.

“Oh, to be sure, madam,” Abigail says, speaking for the first time since they met. Kurt notices her voice is soft, timid, and she still gives him a wary look like he might suddenly whip out his sword and attack.

Kurt stands slowly and moves to the sitting room, leaving his sword standing in the corner by the stairs before returning to the table, barely catching Elizabeth wink at him. It sets a fire under his collar, and he finds himself shifting in his seat again.

“Are both of you from New Serene?”

“I am, madam. But Abigail was originally from Old Serene.”

“How did you end up here?”

“I was not a good fit for the family I was with and they…helped me to come here.”

Something about the way the woman speaks gives Kurt the impression she’s hiding something to protect herself. He knows all too well what that’s like.

“Juliet, this is amazing. I’ll certainly be keeping you on if you continue to cook like that!”

“Thank you, madam!”

After they are all finished, Elizabeth asks Vasco, “Where are your bags?”

“I have a trunk in my cabin, or what was my cabin, on the ship. I didn’t think about any arrangements, just packed up my things and got the hell out of there. Are you serious about my staying here?”

“It‘s my fault you need a place to stay after all, and I never make an offer unless I mean it.”

“I accept. For now. I’ll go and see about having the trunk delivered. Thank you, de Sardet.” He stands and bows before he disappears through the door.

“Abigail, when he returns, please show him upstairs and allow him to choose a room. Except for the two rooms on the eastern side which are already occupied.”

“Yes, madam.” Abigail stands and takes her plate to the kitchen before disappearing through the sitting room and up the stairs, Kurt watching her as she goes.

Elizabeth takes her plate and reaches for Kurt’s, but he picks up both his and Vasco’s before she can and carries them to the sink where Juliet is already doing the wash. He passes her as he makes his way back to the sitting room, rekindling the fire to warm the space. Tucked in the shadow of the palace and the store fronts, it seems the place is always going to have a slight chill without a fire going.

He hears familiar footsteps as Elizabeth slowly approaches him from behind, and he feels her hands slip over his shoulders. His back stiffens and he jerks causing her to lift her hands. “Kurt, is there something that bothers you about me touching you?”

Can he lie to her? It is one thing to keep his secrets. She has her own. But to lie? Impossible.

His head drops low, and he admits, “Sometimes.”

“Does it have anything to do with me?”

Shaking his head, “No, it’s nothing you’ve done.”

“Is it because of those marks on your back?”

Kurt says nothing for what feels like a long time before he nods his head imperceptibly.

“I understand, Kurt. You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to. Just know that whatever it is, I’m not going anywhere.”

He turns and stands to face her, taking her hands in his and when she leans in for a kiss, he meets her halfway. Their lips brushing ever so softly before she backs away and climbs the stairs.

The love he feels for her, for her infinite patience, for her kindness and understanding, swells in his heart and makes him hate Hermann all the more. Once she disappears, he grabs his sword and slowly makes his way up the stairs, sneaking quietly past her door.

In his room, after leaving the sword on his bed, he finally unpacks his trunk, hanging his clothes in the wardrobe with his armor and weapons in the bottom. The delicate handkerchief placed in a drawer with the terrible excuses for stars he had made before he found his stride. He then drags the empty trunk out into the hall to carry downstairs later.

When Kurt hears Vasco coming up the steps, following behind Abigail, he leans out into the hall. “She’s not going to let you leave now. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I suppose I do. It’s probably for the best as I’ve been ordered by my Admiral to stay close to her.”

“What does that mean?”

“I honestly don’t know. She simply said to offer the Legate my services for as long as I’m grounded.”

“Well, as long as we’re disclosing personal matters, can I talk to you when you’re not busy?”

Vasco nods and continues to follow Abigail down the hall.

A short while later, there is a soft knock on his door, and he jumps up to open it.

“What can I do for you, Kurt”

First checking that both doors between his and de Sardet’s rooms are closed, he takes a deep breath and lets out a deep sigh. “I have to find Hermann.”

“Well, apparently I am at your service since I won’t be putting out to sea for a while.”

“Is there any way for us to see if he has been on a ship or if he will be?”

“Only if his departure or arrival is New Serene.”

“And where would we find that?”

“In the Harbor Master’s office.”

“I figured as much,” he sighs and leans against the wall in defeat.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to find him through your Coin Guard contacts?”

Kurt scoffs in an offhand way, “I’m sure it would be but what should I tell them? That I need their help finding him so I can kill him?” He brings his hands up to his face, rubbing it roughly.

“Right. Okay, it may take time, but we will find him. I promise,” he says as he squeezes Kurt’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to be involved?”

“Kurt, he deserves it for what he did to you. But, truth be told, I’m more worried about what he’s doing right now. He has to be stopped. Permanently.”

The thought has crossed his mind over the years that the Major might still be harming recruits, children entrusted to his care. And Vasco is right. That is enough of a reason to run his blade through his heart.

“Thank you for your support, Vasco.”

“You’re welcome. I just hope you understand that killing him might not have the effect you expect.”

“It’s not just about vengeance, Sailor. I need to know he can’t hurt anyone ever again,” he mutters while casting a look at the door leading to de Sardet’s room. “Then, I think I can let go.”

“Whatever I can do to help, you’ve got it. And, you know, de Sardet would feel the same,” he says as he gives his shoulder another squeeze.

“I can’t talk to her about this. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

“I swore to you I wouldn’t say a word. I never have and I never shall.”

Abigail calls out, “Mister Vasco?”

“I guess she means me,” Vasco muses as he steps out the door.

Kurt watches as a young man carries a trunk about the same size as his down the hall to one of the rooms, following behind and watching as Vasco unpacks it, handing him the book he borrowed and a stack of paper.

“Take it. It never hurts to have something to keep your hands and mind busy.”

“Thank you, Sailor.”

“Now what do we do with these trunks?”

Kurt nods his head as he picks up his own trunk and carries it down the stairs to the sitting room with Vasco following behind.

Abigail hears them and enters the room, seeing their burdens. “There is storage behind the house, Sir.

“Thank you. And I want to apologize for earlier. It’s my duty to keep Lady de Sardet safe.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“It’s just Kurt.”

She bows and disappears up the stairs.

“Well, let’s see about getting these trunks out of the way. And de Sardet has several of them still in her room as well.”

By the time they have carried all of the empty trunks to the storage, the sky begins to darken, and they leave the house, Kurt and de Sardet in coats they borrowed from Vasco just in case any Nauts happen to see them.

They wait on the city side of the port entrance until dark, then step through the arch, walking inconspicuously past the Harbor Master’s office. Under the cover of night, the three companions make their way to the furthest warehouse at the port. Ducking between the two buildings at that end, they climb over the fence and slip around to a side door in the one next to the ship. Inside, they find the crates on the opposite wall immediately after entering.

"These are the crates, but one of them has been broken open...and it’s full of weapons."

"That doesn't seem right to me. Our clients supply us weapons on Teer Fradee."

"Kurt did you know what was in the crates?"

“Of course not. But I’ll look into it. I have some friends that must know what this is all about."

"Let me know what you discover.”

Kurt nods before they step out. Outside, he motions to the guards waiting to come and collect the crates and they move back to city entrance.

Tucking himself into an alley, Vasco speaks in a low voice, "You should go. I'll wait here. I can't risk getting caught there."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure not to hurt anyone."

Elizabeth and Kurt sneak to the fence to their left and find a place where they can climb over. They make their way around the crates and fencing that sit on the north side of the building, avoiding stepping on the few sleeping guards posted outside. When they round the corner of the building, they find a small door in the back. He picks the lock, and they enter. Kurt is tempted to say something, but they are here for Vasco, and he decides not to take the risk.

On the opposite side of the large storage room, a set of stairs climbs up to the second floor. They follow it up and around the railing to find a small door, which they enter. It opens to a room with a table laden with food and drink and rows of bunks lined up against the wall on one side. At the far end of the room is another door, which leads them to the Harbor Master's office where they find a trunk containing the files Vasco described.

While Elizabeth looks for the file, Kurt takes a look at the manifest on the desk. First, he finds Vasco's cargo manifest and rips out the page Elizabeth had doctored, stuffing it into a pocket, before quickly skimming the passenger lists looking for one name but not finding it. He sighs heavily as he backs away and turns to discover her looking at him, a question on her lips. He shakes his head and hopes she will leave it at that.

After they leave the office quietly, they find no one is in the bunkhouse as they pass through. They descend the stairs, and leave the way they entered, once again being careful not to step on or trip over any sleeping guards. Once they’ve climbed back over the fence, they return to where Vasco is waiting for them. Rather than give him the file there, Elizabeth leads them back to the manor and waits for Vasco to seat himself in one of the newly delivered chairs.

~Vasco~

Nervously, he takes the file from Elizabeth, desperately wanting to know what it can tell him, but also terrified of what he will find out. All the years of wondering why he was given up, who his family is, even something as simple as his name, so much of his identity is tied to the papers he now holds in his hands.

Elizabeth lays her hand on his shoulder and, in a soft voice, says, “We should give you some privacy.”

He reaches his hand up and places it over hers. “Thank you, but, please, stay,” he says, watching as they seat themselves on the sofa across from him without touching and wait quietly and patiently.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the file with a long sigh. What he finds is incomprehensible. Just a single page with only a few words written across it. Just like that, his hopes dashed, and his questions mostly left unanswered.

“Vasco?”

"This is…vague. No details. No answer as to why I was given to the Nauts.”

“Is that unusual?”

“At the least there should be a copy of the contract, but…nothing. All it says is that my given name is Léandre, son of the d'Arcy family from Serene.”

“Nobles.”

Vasco snorts at that and tosses the pitiful excuse for a file into the fire watching the edges curl and blacken as they burn. What cruel irony. To find out he comes from nobility, that which he always outwardly despised but was secretly envious of. Knowing that he should have had a life of ease and comfort, and still not knowing the why.

“Are you okay?”

Shaking his head, he lifts his hands to his face, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “I don’t know what I expected. Something more than a name.”

“I don’t know if it will help, but I once met a young mister d'Arcy at my uncle's court. Your brother, no doubt."

A brother who was worthy of keeping. Holding. Loving. Perhaps the eldest and the one who would inherit while he was just in the way.

"My brother? What was he like?"

"I’m sorry, it was a long time ago.”

“Thank you for doing this...and for telling me about him.”

“I wish I could tell you more. But Lady Morange is from Serene originally, she might be able to tell you more about your family.

“Not right now. I have a lot to think about.

"Do you wish you were never given to the Nauts?"

“It’s not that. It’s just that I never knew my mother’s love. I don’t even know if they would want to know me.”

"Don't you have any happy memories as a Naut?"

"I do, of course, I do! The first time I climbed up the shrouds...the incredible view, the dizziness and the sensation of complete...freedom! It was an unforgettable moment!"

He can still feel the strength of the wind nearly blowing his tricorne from his head, see the endless blue seascape stretching out in every direction, hear the sails snapping and billowing around him.

"I can only imagine how you felt, but it sounds amazing!"

"It was..." he sighs with contentment, "I wouldn't trade that memory for all the gold in the world. Thank you, de Sardet, you've opened my eyes."

“Vasco, you’re allowed to take some time to feel this out, to figure out what it means to you. We’ll talk more in the morning about your employment and where you go from here.”

He watches as Elizabeth and Kurt both take the stairs up, the soldier glancing worriedly over his shoulder before disappearing around the landing. He thinks about her words. What he has found means everything and nothing. Someone must have tampered with his file but asking Cabral about it would only create more suspicion. His thoughts drift to the bottle of rum now hidden in his wardrobe as he stands and drags himself upstairs.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

After another mostly sleepless night, Kurt wakes early the next morning with an agenda. Despite the tiredness dragging him down, he lifts himself from the bed and stumbles into the bathroom where he quietly splashes water in his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. An exploratory brush of his hand against his jaw instigates a quick trim of his stubble before he changes and makes his way downstairs tossing a sheet of paper into the fire as he passes through the sitting room.

Juliet already has breakfast started and she directs him to the dining table where he sits drinking a coffee and quickly devouring a meal of eggs, bacon and biscuits. Leaving word with Abigail before he walks out the door, he informs her that he will be back soon and requests that she tell Elizabeth to wait there for him.

In the early light of dawn, he shuffles his way to the Coin Guard barracks to talk to Manfred about the crates. Full of weapons. Rifles and swords. Smuggling merchandise was bad enough, but weapons…that could have landed them all in prison. In fact, it still could. Not even the prince could keep Elizabeth out of that kind of trouble.

As he walks in the door, Manfred gives him a sheepish look. “Kurt.”

Kurt comes in very close and speaks low enough no one else can overhear. “Did you know?”

“Did you?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Look, we have to destroy those crates and anything that mentions them. Letters, paperwork, orders…everything.”

”I’ll see to it myself.”

“Like they never existed. Take care of it right away.” Not enough. Someone knows something. Kurt darts his eyes around the room making sure they are alone. “Who were the men you sent last night, and did they see the contents of the crates?”

“No one of consequence. Just a couple of illiterate but trustworthy men. And I’m the only one who has seen what’s in the crates.”

“Do they have families here?”

“No,” Manfred replies, shaking his head. “They’re both from back home.”

Kurt takes in a deep breath and sighs. Manfred is going to question his decision, but he will follow it. “Follow Torsten’s instructions where the weapons are concerned, but make all records disappear. Transfer the two men back to Serene on the next available ship with hazard pay. And make sure Leonardt keeps a close eye on them and the two men he sent who helped move the crates into the warehouse but be discreet.”

“Is all that really necessary, Kurt?”

Kurt steps even closer and lowers his voice, crossing his arms. “You do realize smuggling weapons on a Naut ship is a capital offense?”

“Wh-what…” he asks, his eyes growing large and his mouth agape.

“You, me, Leonardt, those four men, everyone who has had anything to do with this, we’re all tangled up in this mess now.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not yet. Just behave normally like nothing is wrong but keep your eyes and ears on the talk in the barracks. If you see or hear anything suspicious, you send for me, right away. And you speak to no one else about any of this. And I mean no one.” Kurt places his hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll check in soon,” he says before he turns and leaves the barracks to return home.

It’s a longer walk back with the gravity of the situation on his shoulders, the secret he now has to carry weighing heavily on him. A secret he has to keep from the two people who have the most to lose. The woman he loves, and one of his only friends, who were only trying to help him get the job done. He should have refused Torsten’s request even if it meant he would have been kept in Serene.

He knew. Somehow, he knew all along that this was a fool’s errand. He knew that this would eventually come back to bite him in the arse. Now, it all begins to make sense. The reason he was the one asked. Ordered, he reminds himself. The reason it had to be done that day and the reason the crates had to be loaded on their ship. The Commander had put Kurt’s head up on the chopping block. If they get caught, he will take the fall and Torsten hardly cares who else goes down with him. The bastard.

When he thinks of how close Elizabeth might have been to ruin, because of him, the realization staggers him. His hands make tightly balled fists all the way back to the house. This is not over. Hermann, Torsten, whoever else is involved, they will pay. Somehow. Someway. He will make them pay.

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth wakes that morning with a sense of urgency to speak with Constantin. They arrived two days ago now and she is yet to be received in the palace and see what errands he might have for her. The sooner she can set to work, the sooner she can hope to forge some kind of lasting peace on the island. But, more importantly, the sooner she can get started trying to find a cure for the Malichor. Not in time to save her mother, of course, but to save her people.

Her mother, she wonders if she is still alive. In pain. Missing her. Calling out for her…

Shaking off those thoughts, she rises and dresses in one of her more formal waistcoats for court. Looking at her reflection in the bathroom, she sighs and takes the pins from her hair, going back to the prim braid she wore back in Serene. Through the open door on the far side of the room, she can see Kurt is already up and somewhere downstairs.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she finds Vasco already at the table eating breakfast, but her loyal guard is nowhere in sight. She smiles as Juliet brings her a plate and a mug of juice as Abigail enters the room from the staff’s quarters and leans in delivering a message from Kurt.

She nods. “Thank you, Abigail.”

“Kurt still in bed? That’s hardly like him.”

“Seems he had an early meeting at the barracks, and we’re supposed to wait for him.”

“Wonder what they want from him now?”

Shaking her head, she laughs and replies, “Whatever it is, I hope he says no.”

Vasco smirks at her across the table. “Agreed.”

“How are you this morning, Vasco?”

“As well as can be expected,” he says with a sigh.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. I’ll try to use my influence if I can.”

“I appreciate that, de Sardet, but I think I just need time to think, for now.”

“While you’re thinking, I’ve filled out papers to officially hire you as a personal guard.” When he opens his mouth to object, she interrupts him. “It’s my fault you’re grounded. Allow me to try to make what amends I can.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“You’ll be paid the same salary as Kurt, if that agrees with you.”

“Thank you,” he replies softly, nodding slowly.

She hears a key in the lock and the door opening and closing behind her, followed by Kurt’s steps entering the room. “Please tell me they didn’t ask you to receive or transport any more merchandise?”

His face twitches and he wears an embarrassed grin. “No, I just wanted to be sure they didn’t have any problems.”

“If we want to avoid any more problems, it’s time I get to the palace. I’m sure Constantin is bouncing off the walls waiting for me to grace him with my presence.”

“I’ll come with you, Greenblood.”

“I may as well tag along now that I’m hired help.”

Kurt shoots her a confused glance which she waves off for now. “Then follow me.”

As they step through the door, she can feel some sense of dread coming from Kurt in waves. Still, she says nothing but leads them through the courtyard and the gate and up to the palace steps where she passes between the two posted guards.

"A to, oi!”

Curiously, Elizabeth turns to see who is speaking to her. She sees a young woman in native dress and with root-like horns growing from her head has approached the palace behind her, but the guards will not let her through. She also has a mark on her face that looks exactly like her own.

“Sients rádidaw cwint da dégewd me en?"

Clearly, the woman is speaking to her in her native language as if she fully expects her to understand the words. Glancing to the side, she sees one of the guards looking her way. "Attention soldier!", she says sternly before looking back at the native woman.

"Let me pass. I must see the chief of your village!"

The guards snicker at her but do not let her pass.

"Whatever could be so funny?"

Taking a few steps closer, Elizabeth asks, "Now who would you be to seek an audience with the Governor?"

"I am Siora, daughter of Bládnid. My mother is the mál, the chief of our clan. I am here as an emissary of my people, and I must see your chief...uh, governor," she corrects herself and gives an annoyed look at the guard.

"And so, you are a princess then?"

"A what?" She takes a step back, a look of confusion spreading across her face.

"Let her pass!” Elizabeth orders the guards. “Your majesty, I shall present you to the Governor. Come!"

"Princess, majesty, you are most confusing, but thank you for your help." She gives another annoyed look at the guard as she passes.

Elizabeth starts up the stairs and Siora follows with Kurt and Vasco close behind. Inside the palace, a long marble hallway leads to a massive stone stairway which they follow up to a large pair of white doors.

Constantin turns as he hears an audience approach from behind. "There you are fair cousin..." Catching sight of Siora he asks, "What is this? Who is this amazing person in your company?"

"I am Siora, daughter of Bládnid, daughter of Meb. My mother is a mál, the chief of our clan."

"I am honored to make your acquaintance, Siora!" Looking from her to his cousin he says, "This is incredible, the resemblance is…uncanny!”

Slightly annoyed with the entire situation, Elizabeth gives him a look which makes him drop the subject immediately.

Looking to Elizabeth, he says, "I need you to visit the Governors of The Bridge Alliance and Thélème to give them my formal regards. We also must know if they have made any progress on a cure.”

"Forgive me, mál, but I have a request." Siora looks down at her feet, hands folded in front of her. "My people needs your help. The Lions, the Bridge Alliance and my people are at war. My mother has sent me to you in search of allies.”

"This seems a sensible request, though we cannot go to war with our neighbors."

Elizabeth, thinking there might be another way, suggests, "Perhaps there is a way to negotiate a cease fire, to create more time."

"Excellent idea! I would be completely lost without you! Go and parley with, uh...the Queen, fair cousin. Try and put an end to the confrontations for the time being."

"I will come with you. It will take more than one person to convince my mother to lay down our weapons."

"Take Kurt with you! I've been told the roads are not safe! I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." Elizabeth is immediately relieved that Constantin seems willing to relinquish their old friend to her company rather than retaining him in court. At least for now.

As they leave the palace, she addresses her loyal guard, “Kurt, you’ve been on missions before, how do we prepare for this?”

“Prepare for a few days. Pack what you can carry. The caravans won’t travel where there are no roads, so we’ll have to go on foot. And bring your weapons. We don’t know what kind of beasts we’ll run into on the way there.”

Siora follows them back to the house where she waits in the sitting room as the three of them prepare for the trip.

Upstairs, Elizabeth hesitantly slips on the holster for her pistol, somberly remembering the last time she used it, followed by her rapier. She then takes a pack and begins filling it with a bedroll, clothes and herbs before meeting her companions in the kitchen where they all grab staples of food that will hold for the few days until they return.

“Juliet, Abigail, we have to go out of the city for a few days. If you need anything, send word to my cousin and he will take care of it.”

“Be safe, miss.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Accompanied by Kurt and Vasco, Elizabeth walks out the door, passing through the gate, and quickly crossing the square. Passing by the blacksmith, his hammer ringing loudly on his anvil, they make their way around the barracks and leave the city through the northern gates following Siora as she leads them towards the village of Vedrhais.

As they follow the road out of New Serene, Elizabeth is already feeling the weight of her pack, shifting it from one shoulder to the other every few minutes. She glances over at Kurt who smiles at her for a moment before his face falls flat again. “Is there anything going on that I need to know about?”

“I don’t follow…”

“Your meeting at the barracks this morning?”

Kurt glances down at the ground avoiding making eye contact. “It wasn’t a meeting. I just wanted to check in with Manfred and be sure that the whole business is behind us. I think it best, considering what was in the crates, that we forget all about it.”

“If you think that’s best.”

“I do. I just want to be done with it.”

“I trust you, Kurt,” she says quietly. “I’m glad Constantin sent you along today.”

“Truth is, he gave me orders before we reached the island. Told me to stay by your side and keep you safe.”

“Your only job now is to be my guard?”

“So it seems.”

“Does this make you unhappy?”

“Not at all, Greenblood. I’m glad to be here too.”

Shifting the pack back to her other shoulder, she suddenly feels the weight lifted as Kurt grabs it and tosses it over his back. ”Kurt, I can handle it."

“You over packed. I’ve got it this time,” he says with a soft smile and a shake of his head.

“I’ll try to do a better job of prioritizing next time.”

“Aye, see that you do,” he teases before jogging to catch up with Siora who is some distance ahead of them.

She watches him pull away with a nagging feeling that there is still something he refuses to tell her for some reason.

Vasco steps up beside her and gently nudges her shoulder. “It seems like things are better between you two now.”

“Yes, but there’s something going on with him. Something he’s hiding. Probably for our benefit if I know him at all.”

“That sounds like Kurt.”

“Doesn’t it just?”

She hears Kurt up ahead speaking to Siora, “Don’t worry, pretty flower. We’ll be there soon.”

Siora says nothing in return but eyes him with suspicion.

Stifling a laugh, Elizabeth coughs and turns her head away when Kurt looks back at her.

For a while they continue walking quietly, the seriousness of the situation weighing heavily on their minds. Eventually, Kurt suggests they stop and take a break, which she is grateful for. She is only now realizing her training should have included building up her endurance, taking walks outside the city in preparation.

After Kurt and Vasco collect a small bit of wood, she conjures up a blossom of red flames, starting a campfire inside a ring of large rocks where they sit and relax, shaking the remaining embers off into the dirt. Both Siora and Vasco look at her, bewildered and curious, while Kurt simply smiles at her and shakes his head while putting his flint back in his pack.

“I had no idea you could use magic, de Sardet.”

“I’m sure there are a great many things you don’t know about me, Vasco.”

“I had not expected this, but it is because you are on ol menawi. You are connected to the land, and you draw your magic from the earth, from the flora and the fauna.”

“It does seem stronger since setting foot on the island. I’ve had it all my life, but I’ve never known where it comes from. I’ve never known anyone else like me before.”

Siora flexes her hand and a crystal shard of ice forms in her palm. She reaches out to Elizabeth who touches the ice with the tip of her finger, painfully cold, before jerking her hand away, watching as the native shakes her own hand out, letting the shard fall to the ground where it melts and is once again absorbed by the earth.

“I’ve never known a renaigse with the mark. It Is rather curious.”

“Are there many natives with this mark?”

“Oh, yes. Or, rather, there were. It seems that many have disappeared recently.”

“Disappeared?” she asks, looking at Siora in confusion.

“The Lions, they come into our villages, and they lead them away and we never see them again.”

“Have they no explanation?”

“They do not speak with words. Only guns.”

“When we go to Hikmet, I will see what I can do to shed light on the matter, Siora.”

“I thank you for that, renaigse. We will see whether they are more than empty words.”

“We should get moving again,” she says, standing and lifting her pack on her shoulder, receiving an exasperated look from Kurt.

He and Vasco kick dirt over the small fire to smother it before they continue on their way. Vasco and Siora a few yards ahead with Elizabeth and Kurt following behind.

“Greenblood, let me carry that for you.”

“Kurt, if we can’t get a caravan to take us to these places, I’m going to be walking a lot and carrying my own pack. I’ve learned a lesson on packing what I can carry and now I have to build the stamina to travel by foot.”

He nods reluctantly. “You’re right. I don’t mean to treat you like some dainty thing who can’t handle herself.”

His words give her a sense of pride, a feeling that she has earned the right to be treated as his equal. “Thank you,” she replies with a sincerity she hopes he can feel.

For a moment, his hand brushes down the back of her arm, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before it drops back at his side. “Anytime, Greenblood.”

When they draw closer, Siora points out the village gate in the distance, and several wild beasts in the way. “The ulgs are blocking our path.”

Elizabeth crouches and her companions follow her lead. “How aggressive are they? Could we sneak around them?”

“We can try.”

Elizabeth leads them in a large circle around the beasts, quietly wading through deep grasses and bushes until they reach the gate. As they pass through the village entrance, Siora points out the weapons that line the path. "This is where the spears of all past warriors are gathered. The branches are reclaimed by the tree and bring strength to the village."

She then leads them past a large stone monolith surrounded by smaller square stones to the home of her mother on the far side of the village. It is a hut in the shape of a half sphere, with a door set deep into a rounded cover, the entire thing covered in vine like growths. Inside, a fire pit occupies the center of the space, surrounded by various blankets spread out on the floor.

As they enter and look around curiously, a man with lines tattooed over his face and his head covered with a long scarf approaches and asks, "Who do you think you are? By what right do you enter the home of our queen?"

"I am the emissary of the Congregation of Merchants. I have come to meet with your queen."

Siora steps out from behind her. "Come now, Arwant, you are not a watchdog! Where is my mother?"

"Siora! I did not see you...You have come too late. Your mother has gone to wage a war. They left for did e kiden nádageis only a short while ago."

"Oh no! We must catch up with them and avoid the shedding of blood! Please, haste!"

"Of course, let's be off!"

Following a path up and towards the forest, Siora leads them to a place where the path forks off in two directions. Elizabeth starts to follow the path where the warriors footsteps have worn down the undergrowth until Siora stops her. "Wait! We should go left here. It is a more difficult path, but it is much shorter," she says worriedly.

Elizabeth decides to trust that Siora must know best and follows her up the left path.

After a few minutes, Siora speaks up from her right. "Thank you for trusting me. I fear my mother may have already thrown herself into battle!"

As they make their way towards the battlefield, they meet several groups of the bear-like beasts that roam the wild areas of the island, quietly sneaking by each one. Nearing the battlefield, shouts and the clanging of metal can be heard beyond a short ledge and up a low hill. As they rise over the crest of the hill, they see they have not arrived in time.

Siora shouts, "We have come too late! My sister is surrounded! We have to help her! Come," she pleads.

In the distance, a native warrior is surrounded by Bridge Alliance soldiers ahead of them on the field. Running to join the fight, Kurt and Vasco take out many of the enemy soldiers until there are only a few left. Elizabeth takes one soldier on but a shot from Vasco’s gun finishes him off before she can.

Siora barrels at one of the last enemies remaining, ramming her blade into his body over and over again until he collapses at her feet.

A soldier who is too close to fire, tries to use his firearm to strike the warrior in her gut but she latches onto the weapon and rams the butt into his midsection before wresting it out of his hands. She then fires at a soldier in the distance, swinging the gun around to coldcock its owner in the face. He falls back like a felled tree, out cold.

Another soldier run towards her, but she quickly tosses the gun at him and, as he attempts to grab it, she barrels into him flipping him end over end as she passes. Still running, she dodges the ax that another soldier has swung in her direction.

In the distance, Siora sees her sister battling this single soldier but spies the other sneaking up to attack her from behind. "Eseld!" she screams, slamming her hands on the ground. A massive vine climbs into the sky, grasping the man by his thigh and dragging him away just as he was about to plunge an axe into her sister's back before lifting him high into the air.

Eseld grapples with the man, who wields a large ax, until she manages to overcome him. Swinging around in a circle she slices his neck open, a thick spray of blood painting the earth. Pulling a dagger from her robe, she flings it at the man hanging from the vine, burying it deep into his left eye socket just before he crashes back to the ground as Siora stands and runs to her sister's side.

"Eseld!"

"You are too late, Siora. Mother has fallen and we are defeated."

"No, no, no..." She turns to look at Elizabeth, barely able to comprehend what has happened, "this is not fair!"

"I am so sorry."

Eseld approaches them and addresses her sister. "Who is this woman? She resembles one of us but is dressed like a renaigse."

“Siora, allow us to give you a moment alone. We’ll be nearby if you need us.”

Elizabeth grabs Vasco and Kurt by the sleeves and drags them some distance away to let the sisters speak. “This is a private moment. We have no right to intrude.”

They watch as Siora speaks to her sister. The conversation begins aggressively but, soon, they embrace and Eseld stumbles off in the direction of the village. She comes close and says, “We must tend to the wounded now." Then, sadly, "And find my mother, or her body if...if she is indeed dead."

"How?"

"Look for her banner. It bears the symbol of our village."

The four companions are left to search the battlefield for survivors. There are not many of them, but they manage to find a handful and tend to their wounds before sending them back to the village.

As they wander the field, Elizabeth sees structures that are in ruins that resemble the oldest architecture of the Congregation. "These ruins are very strange. By what name did you call this place again?"

"The did e kiden nádageis. There was a terrible battle in the past. A great victory for the clans."

“The architecture is nothing like your own dwellings. What does the name mean?”

"It means ruins of the first guardian."

“Before we leave, I would like to look around for clues as to who built this place.”

As they approach another field of battle to the north, they see the banner of the queen standing alone in the middle of a mass of bodies. Siora breaks down, keening and sobbing for her lost mother, falling to her hands and knees.

A Bridge Alliance soldier hears her pained cries and says, "I beg of you...help me..."

"And still, you dare to breathe..." Her anger rising, she crawls her way to where his body is lying. "How can you hope that I am here to save you?!" Her hands send tendrils of vines out from the ground which entangle his body and squeeze him until he can barely breathe.

Unable to move or breathe, he pleads, "No! I...Pity, I beg of you...I don't want to die..."

"Then answer!" she screams in rage.

Elizabeth approaches slowly and gently says, "Siora..." and when she looks in her direction she adds, "want some help?"

It works. She does not release the man but eases up so he can answer.

"They took her...the queen..."

She screams in pain and anger and releases the man, stumbling and crawling backwards away from him. Standing, she speaks with furious anger, "We must find her. I will not leave her to their whims." She turns and walks away.

Elizabeth looks at the man with pity and quietly sends out some healing magic from her fingertips before following behind Siora. "If your mother is in the hands of the Bridge, they would have taken her to their closest camp."

"Promise me that we will do everything we can to bring her back."

"Of course."

They leave the battlefield and trek up toward the ruins that loom above them. Inside the nearest structure they find a large and very ancient mural on the back wall. It depicts an enormous being, taller than the mountain behind it, standing over a city below.

"This is the first time I've seen this so closely..." She speaks reverently as if this is a hallowed place.

"You have never come here? You certainly seem to know the place."

"This site is sacred and taboo. Everyone knows where it is, but no one ever comes here. All these colors are so beautiful. I never would have imagined that they could create something so delicate."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Those who built these lodgings, who my ancestors vanquished."

Elizabeth raises her hand over the surface of the mural but doesn't touch it, genuinely astonished by the beauty of it. "You know who they were?"

"I only know the legend. The legend of did e kiden nádageis."

"I'm listening..." she says gently, still looking closely at the mural with her hand nearly touching it but not quite.

"Our people lived peacefully, until men appeared from the sea, intent on taking our lands. They dug great caverns in the earth, ripped down forests, destroyed everything in their wake. They were evil. The warriors killed so many people that even their own people came to fear them.” She takes a step closer, reaching out toward the mural. “Here, they built a terrible city that spewed out clouds of cinder and death...like a dying volcano. The kings and queens were desperate. They went to the heart of the island and the island heard them.” Now pointing at the large creature, she continues in a grave voice, “From the woods appeared the first guardian. He was taller than a city, and with each step, smashed a lodging. It was a guardian of wrath, and the city could not resist him. Since then, the earth answers our call for magic, and in exchange we become on ol menawi in keeping with the pacts our kings and queens once made."

"I wonder who these people from the sea could have been. A people from the continent no doubt. Our Malichor might well be the cursed result of that war from another age. I must report this discovery to Constantin." Remembering her promise, "But first, let's go find your mother."

"There is a Bridge outpost near Vigyigidaw. That is where they would have taken her. I must do everything I can to free her from the Lion's claws."

"We will do everything we can to free her. Don’t worry."

“We should stop and camp here for the night, Greenblood. It will be dark soon.”

“You’re right. We should build a fire and eat something and get some rest.”

“I’ll find some firewood. Vasco, a little help?” He gestures in a less than conspicuous way but Siora seems to notice little of what is going on around her.

“Siora, are you hungry?”

She lifts her head, a look of confusion on her face.

“Food?”

“Oh, no, renaigse, I am not hungry.”

“If you change your mind…”

When Kurt and Vasco show up with some wood, she again produces fire, this time creating dancing flames in her hand which immediately catch and burn in the ring of stones in the middle of the circle as they lay out their bedrolls.

“That must be rather handy, de Sardet. Though I’m grateful you never tried that on my ship.”

Kurt shoots a quick glance at her and they both smirk.

“You didn’t?”

‘Only the once.”

“You are nothing but trouble,” he exclaims as he pulls out a skein of water and some rations.

“Well, it’s time someone said it.”

She takes a bite of cheese and tosses it at Kurt’s head, but he catches it with his mouth even in the dim light of the campfire, smirking at her with one brow raised.

Suddenly Siora’s interest is piqued. “How do you do that?”

“I don’t know. Just practice, pretty flower.”

“What is this pretty flower?”

“Yes, Kurt, what is that?”

Choking on a bite of biscuit, Kurt coughs and Vasco claps him on the back while stifling laughter.

“Uh, I’ll take first watch tonight,” he finally manages to choke out in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Siora glances over at him and clears her throat. “Kurt, could I take the first watch? I don’t feel much like sleeping.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll take the second watch,” Vasco yawns, climbing into his bedroll, instantly falling asleep.

Elizabeth stretches out on her bedroll with her head resting on her pack across from him, watching the way the flames light his hair and his face, his eyes intently focused on her as she falls asleep.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

While the others sleep, Kurt watches Elizabeth from the opposite side of the fire which has burned down to embers, popping and sparking between them. The sun is just beginning to creep over the horizon, but he refuses to wake her just yet. Mesmerized by her sleeping form, he would spend his days like this, watching her sleep.

He has seen a few fellow guards over the years who talked or moved in their sleep, but never someone who laughs and smiles as she does. A soft and round laugh, like a bell. She mumbles a few words now and then as well, but they mostly seem unrecognizable, mere random syllables that make no sense to him. Except for one word that he only recognizes because she says it so often.

Not the first time he has heard her say it in her sleep, hearing his name on her lips still rattles him. Glancing over between Vasco and Siora, he wonders if they heard and understood her words while they were on watch. Maybe he can bring it up to the Sailor later when they have some time alone.

Suddenly, her lips begin to tremble, and tears fall from her closed eyes. He watches, conflicted, adding crying in her sleep to the number of mystifying yet endearing things about this woman. Unsure if he should wake her, he walks silently around the circle of bedrolls, carefully kneeling next to her, taking her hand and gently shushing her until she is resting peacefully again.

Before he can stand, her eyes flutter open and she looks around before speaking in a slightly syrupy voice, “Is it my turn to take watch?”

“No, Greenblood. It’s morning.”

“You and Vasco don’t think I could handle it?”

“Of course you can. We just thought you could use the sleep.”

Sitting up, she looks at him defiantly. “No more than the rest of you,” she says as she stretches and yawns

“All I have to do is swing a sword and look intimidating. You have to carry most of the mental load for this crew. And, you have to look like the noble you are. Not some sleep deprived wreck.”

“I suppose that last part is true at least.”

“Not that I’m saying you look anything less than perfect,” he says as he sweeps a loose strand of hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear.

She gently runs her fingers through his hair, brushing the now long waves from his forehead. “I could say the same about you.”

“No, I desperately need a haircut.”

‘Don’t you dare!” she insists, her eyes narrowing.

The tone of her voice has him flustered, leaning in, before he remembers himself and pulls away, a teasing smile on his face. “Does her Excellency prefer her guards with long hair?”

“Just a bit longer on top, perhaps.”

“I will keep that in mind,” he says a little huskily, raising his brows as he stands.

“Please do.”

“Would the two of you please let a man sleep?”

“Sorry, Vasco,” she says with a lilting giggle.

“That sounds far from sincere, de Sardet,” Vasco accuses with his back to them.

“Is this what you three are always like? Giggling like a bunch of children?”

“Apologies, Siora.”

Kurt wanders back to his bedroll. “Now that we’re all awake, we might as well have a quick breakfast, smother this fire and get on our way to the outpost.” He takes a seat and digs through his pack for rations, offering some to Siora.

“Thank you, renaigse,” she says taking the cheese and biscuit and munching on them quietly.

Vasco looks at Elizabeth and asks, “Do you know you that you talk in your sleep?”

Her cheeks shade pink and she smiles with embarrassment. “I am aware, yes. My mother used to sit and watch me sleep as a baby. Apparently, I laughed and babbled a lot in my sleep. And, later, I talked, but she rarely understood me.”

Kurt watches the change in her expression when she mentions her mother and decides not to mention the crying for now. Not in front of the others. He watches her carefully as she eats, the sun beginning to rise behind her, creating a gold halo around her head. Glancing quickly away when she catches him, he sees a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

Once they’ve all had some food, they stand and shake out their bedrolls, shoving them back into their packs and kicking dirt over what remains of the campfire before following Siora in the direction of Vigygidaw and the Bridge Alliance outpost.

With Vasco walking alongside Siora, Kurt grabs Elizabeth’s hand, holding her back, allowing some distance to grow between the two groups. “Greenblood?”

“Yes, Kurt?”

“Are you alright?”

She looks at him with her eyes narrowed. “Of course. Why do you ask?’

“You were crying. In your sleep.”

“Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I never remember any of it,” she says softly, shaking her head and half shrugging.

“It must be strange to have no memory of something like that.”

“When others remember it so vividly, yes. It’s…disconcerting.”

“What I wouldn’t give to wake up with no memories…” Kurt mutters, staring at the ground passing beneath his feet.

A hand on his arm pulls him back, stopping him in his tracks. As Kurt slowly turns, Elizabeth reaches for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, the fingers on one hand slipping up his neck and into his hair, sending a chill down his spine. She says nothing but holds him tightly, her face pressed into his shoulder. Closing his eyes, he turns his head towards her, inhaling the lingering floral scent of her hair, breathing her in.

For a moment it is only the two of them, Elizabeth holding him like a shield against his pain, keeping the memories at bay. For a moment. “We should catch up…”

She nods against him and releases him from her embrace, following him down the path through the woods. None of the companions speak much after that other than the occasional discussion of different herbs and berries, Siora and Elizabeth gathering some as they pass.

~Siora~

This Captain Vasco seems to mean well enough, and she usually enjoys chatting and pointing out the landmarks as they pass, but, for now, Siora is in no mood to make small talk and he never seems to close his mouth for long. She nods and shakes her head, gives perfunctory one-word answers until he finally walks along beside her in silence. This agrees with her, and she sometimes looks at him with a warm smile.

Despite being weary from constant travel, grief-stricken over the loss of so many of her people, and deeply concerned about her mother, she still leads them along without stopping to rest. The only time she stops is when she sees a rare herb or berry, or some other ingredient for her salves and potions, quickly gathering some before moving on, slightly amused as the on ol menawi does the same.

Occasionally she glances back over her shoulder at the soldier and the on ol menawi, noting how closely they walk together, how they look at each other. They remind her of her mother and father before the Bridge Alliance took him from them. She can easily see that these two are minundhanem though they seem to believe no one notices.

By the time they approach the gates to the Bridge Alliance camp, Siora is beside herself with worry, desperate to find her mother before it’s too late. She barely hears what is being said until the word savage crosses the lips of the guard.

“Are you calling me a savage, Lion?” Siora asks, spitting venom.

Seething, she follows the Legate into the first building, which is set to the left side of the camp, and finds another Lion, this one sitting at a desk, wearing a turban on his head and surrounded by various papers and books. Tuning the man out, she only picks up on the words she’s dead, stated flippantly as if he’s talking about the weather.

“No! You Lions, you let her die!" she screams as the pain tears through her, the earth shifting beneath her feet, and she has to fight for control, to stop herself from tearing the man apart. Siora turns, pleading, "I want to see her body, on ol menawi! Please, I must see her!"

Overcome with unbearable grief, she barely hears the rest of the conversation. Well-meaning but meaningless words fill her ears. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ ‘I’m sorry, pretty flower,” ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ Empty words that do nothing to fill the void inside her now she and her sister are the only ones left of their family. The only ones left to carry on.

As they leave the Lion’s office, they turn left and cross to the building on the far side of the camp, which has a strange symbol on the door. Inside, the familiar scent of death greets them. Then she sees her mother’s body on a table in the back and rushes forward, until another Lion steps in her way.

Before she can react, the on ol menawi is speaking with the man while the soldier gently holds her back. “Let me go! I must see her!” She takes a breath and calms herself before continuing, "I would like to see her. I need to see her...please."

The man gestures in that direction and the Legate leads her slowly to her mother's body.

"Mátir! Ná!"

"We should give you some privacy while you are mourning...we won't be far."

She nods and walks on silently. Stroking her mother's head, she whispers, "Andevaurshd tir to Mátir!" She begins to carefully pick leaves and other debris from her mother's hair and robe, weeping softly. "Men se dad en on mil frichtimen." Taking her mother’s hand, she caresses her face and leans in, grieving her loss.

Unsure how long she has been standing there, she wipes her tears and turns to look for the on ol menawi who spots her and approaches reverently. "I must take her with me, on ol menawi. We must perform the ritual and return her to the earth."

“Let’s go back to see the captain.”

Siora nods and reluctantly leaves her mother’s side to follow the Legate.

What follows is a blur. They return to the other building where the captain speaks about his orders. "It is my mother we are talking about, my mother whom you let die by dragging her all the way here!"

He and the Legate speak at length about honoring the dead and proper burials, Siora growing more agitated every moment until the man seems to finally relent and they leave the building quietly.

“I must go see my sister…”

“Of course, we can stop there on our way back to the city.”

As they trek back to Vedrhais, no one speaks, but they walk close together in silence and reverence, giving her the time and space to begin to mourn the loss of her mother. She tries to come up with the words to tell her sister but, even as they arrive in the village, she has no words.

She enters the hut alone, cautiously approaching her sister. "Eseld...our mother..."

"I know, Siora. Andevaurshd tir se. Some men delivered her remains here. They said it was thanks to you...and the renaigse legate."

“Where is she?” she asks, darting her eyes around the hut.

“We had them take her body to Vasrigen, interred until the ritual can be performed. I hoped you might go with me to prepare her.”

“Of course.”

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth watches as Siora steps back out of the hut with her sister.

“We must go to Vasrigen to prepare our mother’s body for interment. To thank you for your help, we would like you to stay tonight. When I return, I will find lodging for you, on ol menawi.”

“Of course we’ll stay. It will be good to rest before the walk back to the city.”

Elizabeth watches as Siora and Eseld leave the village, taking the same path they had the day of the battle, their arms carrying some sort of shroud.

While Siora is gone, Elizabeth and the others roam around the village quietly observing the people, some of whom attempt to speak to her in their native language, looking at her curiously when she shakes her head or shrugs her shoulders. She quickly notices there are no children in the village, no babies, no nursing mothers, only adults of all ages. And not a single on ol menawi aside from herself and Siora.

When Siora returns, she leads them to an empty hut where they can leave their packs and leads them to the heart of the village where it seems they have all gathered for some sort of memorial to those who fell in what is already named the Battle of the Red Spears.

Sitting back out of the way, the three companions watch as the two sisters lead their people in a ceremony of remembrance. Each villager stands and speaks in their native tongue in turn. Though the language is foreign, she understands the sentiment. This is a celebration of life, not a wake for the dead.

When it is over, and the villagers begin to disperse, Siora watches as her sister returns to their mother’s hut before approaching them somberly.

“That was quite beautiful, Siora, though I didn’t understand any of the words.”

“They were waiting for my return, for word on our mother so we can honor all those lost.”

“I was curious about something, if you don’t mind me asking. Why are there no children in the village?”

Siora seems to contemplate her questions and hesitates for a moment before she answers, “All the children in all the villages have been hidden for their safety. Those renaigse Lions kidnap our children and our on ol menawi.”

“Yes, you mentioned that before. Believe me, I have not forgotten, and I will look into it, Siora.”

“Thank you, on ol menawi.”

"How are you feeling?" she asks softly, thinking about her own mother, most likely already gone or driven mad from the pain.

“I feel an emptiness, a deep aching within me. And guilt. Terrible guilt for not being there with her on the battlefield.”

“My mother had the Malichor and I left her behind, alone…” she says with a shaking voice. “I should have been by her side…”

“Staying with her would not have saved her. Just as my being with my mother would not have saved her either. Thank you, on ol menawi, for helping me to see things in a different way.”

"I know we've only known each other for a little while, but if you need someone to talk to...I’m here."

"Thank you, on ol menawi, you are a good person. I am glad that you are my friend."

Elizabeth watches as Siora returns to her mother’s hut to be with her sister before leading Kurt and Vasco back to the hut where they will sleep for the night. She uses her hand to ignite the fire pit in the center of the space and they each pull up a rug and lay out their bedrolls in a circle around the fire.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to that. I suppose living on a ship made of wood, any kind of fire is inherently concerning.”

“I have practiced over the years, you know? I have complete control.”

“Can you make ice, like Siora?”

“Of course.” She creates a crystalline structure of ice, like white quartz, dropping it to the dirt floor where it is absorbed into the earth. Then she creates a spark of electricity which they can feel in the air around them, making their hair stand on end. She shoots it into the flames which creates a cyclone of fire and lightning before it fizzes out.

“Impressive,” Vasco states quietly.

“You can understand though why I never do that around most people.”

“I remember the first time I saw you use magic, Greenblood.”

“You hated it, if I recall correctly.”

He shakes his head and speaks slowly, articulating his words. “I don’t hate it. I even find it useful at times. I just didn’t want you to rely upon it.”

“You were right.”

“In all honesty, I was amazed the first time. But I could hardly show it.”

“Couldn’t encourage that kind of behavior?” she teases him, giving his shoulder a gentle push.

“Something like that.”

“I understand. I always have.”

“I also noticed how it drained your energy, even now, you’re looking a little fatigued, Greenblood.”

She pulls half of her remaining rations from her pack and begins to munch on them quietly, almost obediently, saving the rest for the trip home.

“When did you discover your magic, de Sardet?”

“I was quite young, and angry with some child at court, and both of my hands erupted in flames. No one was hurt but it took quite a bit of influence from my uncle to keep the family quiet.”

“Must have been quite frightening for you.”

She smiles and scoffs, shaking her head gently. “You may be the first person who has ever expressed that sentiment. No one was very concerned about that. Only about controlling the situation.”

“I’m sorry. The more I hear, the more I am convinced that being nobility is quite unpleasant.”

“It was a long time ago. No lasting damage done.”

Kurt glances at her apologetically. “On that note, I think we should all get some rest. We have a long walk back to New Serene in the morning.”

She nods and moves her pack so that her head is near his when he lays down. She looks into his eyes, staring back at her with a steel calm. One hand outstretched, either offered to her as a comfort against her own grief, or a request for her to reach back. Perhaps both at once. She thrusts her outstretched hand toward his, sighing softly when his fingers grasp hers, holding on until she falls asleep.

~Kurt~

In the morning, Kurt wakes to discover Vasco, his pack and his bedroll all missing. Elizabeth is still sleeping, her head close enough he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair that has fallen over her eyes behind her ear, his thumb lightly caressing her birthmark. Her eyes flutter open and she gently places her hand over his with a smile.

“Morning, Kurt.”

“Morning, Greenblood.”

She begins to look around the hut and asks, “Where’s Vasco?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“He must have awakened early. I suppose we should get up and go find him and be on our way.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he says, pulling his hand back to his side.

Sitting up, they both reach into their packs, stuffing a few bites of cheese into their mouths before shaking out and packing their bedrolls and leaving the hut to look for the Captain.

Immediately, they find him standing near a small waterfall and pool on the opposite side of the village. “You’re helplessly drawn to water, aren’t you, Sailor?”

Vasco snorts and nods his head. “I guess maybe I am. Ready to head back to the city?”

“I want to say goodbye to Siora before we go.”

From behind her, a small voice asks, “Leaving without me, carants?”

“I thought you would want to stay with your sister.”

“She needs space to deal with our mother’s death. She is still angry that I was not there with them on the battlefield.”

“You are more than welcome to come with us, if that’s what you want…”

“Thank you. I will get my things and we can return to your city.”

As they walk slowly back toward the gates of the village, the red spears standing on either side, Siora quickly catches them up with a pack on her back.

“I…already packed and I’ve said my goodbyes.”

Elizabeth smiles and takes her arm, leading her through the tall arch and into the forest, leaving Kurt to follow along beside Vasco. Slowing, the Sailor matches his pace.

“What is it, Kurt?”

“First, I checked the passenger manifest in the Harbor Master’s office, but Hermann wasn’t listed. I don’t know how I’m going to find the bastard, but I will somehow.”

“We’ll find him, even if we have to break into every Harbor Master office on this island,” he says, a hand lightly gripping his shoulder.

“You’re a good friend, Vasco.”

“So are you.”

Kurt smiles uncomfortably. “Did you understand anything de Sardet said while she was sleeping?”

Vasco stifles a laugh and nods. “I suppose you mean when she was saying your name?”

Kurt shakes his head. The man will never let him live this down as long as he lives. “Let’s just keep it to ourselves. She doesn’t know.”

“Of course. I would never want to embarrass her.”

They follow along in silence until the sun begins to climb higher into the sky, Siora finding a stump to rest on while eating a quick snack and drinking some water. Shrugging, they each follow suit and take a short break before they set off again. By the time the sun begins to draw out the shadows, they see the city of New Serene in the distance, looming ever more as they get closer.

By the time they reach the manor gates, the eastern horizon is darkening, and the first stars begin to appear. Elizabeth knocks instead of barging in, eliciting a snort from Vasco.

“I don’t want a repeat of last time,” she says as she glances at Kurt with her eyes raised.

“Greenblood, that was an accident. And no one was hurt.”

The door is quickly opened to Abigail’s relieved face. “Oh, milady, we’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Thank you but you needn’t worry. I have my big, strong, loyal guard to protect me.” She glances over her shoulder at him as she steps through the door.

“I’ll go and prepare a bath for you, milady.”

“Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to taking a bath, eating as much food as I can stand and sleeping for at least twelve hours straight,” she says as she disappears up the stairs dragging Siora behind her.

Downstairs, Vasco and Kurt assess the state of themselves before following behind and up to their rooms. Kurt grabs a change of clothes and steps through the hall to Elizabeth’s room.

“Greenblood?” he calls as he knocks on her door.

She opens the door, her hair already down and falling loose around her shoulders. He reaches forward and tucks that stubborn lock behind her ear.

“I think I’ll go and have a bath at the barracks so you and Siora can have the two tubs here.”

“I’ll find myself a bath at the port as well,” Vasco says from over his shoulder.

“There is no reason for you to go to the port. Just come with me to the barracks.”

“You sure your fellow soldiers won’t mind?”

“I don’t particularly care if they mind. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a Captain and I’ll do as I please. They can get over it. Or not.”

Vasco laughs softly and grabs a change of clothes from his room before following as Kurt descends the stairs. They leave the house quietly and pass through the gates, trailing dust down the darkening streets. Kurt keeps an eye out, his sword on his back warding off trouble.

After they enter the barracks, he leads Vasco up the stairs to the baths, gesturing at the ones available to take his pick, grabbing a bar of soap from the counter as he passes. When a few guards give the Sailor aggressive looks, Kurt steps between them, his eyes narrowed. “Soldiers, do you have anything you’d like to say to me and my friend?”

The men either shake their heads or turn away pretending ignorance and Kurt settles into a tub near the one Vasco has taken handing him the bar of soap. He notices that the man has extensive tattoos over his body, unable to imagine how painful some of them must have been.

“What do your tattoos mean, Vasco?”

He points to the one on his chin. “This one shows that I am sea-given.” He points to the lines on his cheeks. “These show my rank of Captain. This one was for sailing through my first hurricane as a mere sailor. I get a new line added here for every voyage I sail as Captain without losing a man,” he says, pointing to the curved lines down his sides.

“So, your tattoos are kind of like scars,” he suggests, looking around the now quiet room. Suddenly all the soldiers are listening with interest.

“I suppose, though not as bravely earned, Kurt.”

“They must be painful though.”

“Aye. They’re painful, but they’re elective. You have no choice in the scars you bear, Soldier.”

Kurt only then realizes how easily he strolled in and stripped his clothes off, baring his scars to the other men in the room. He takes the soap back from Vasco when it’s offered, washing his hair and body in silence waiting for the other soldiers to leave before he stands, towels off, and dresses.

Vasco is out of the tub immediately after and quickly dressed, following him back downstairs where he gives Manfred a quick salute before stepping back outside into the cool night air. They walk around the corner of the building and pass by the blacksmith, his forge cooled, and his hammer stilled for the evening, before passing back into the square.

“Kurt, did I say something in there?”

“No. It wasn’t you,” he says, shaking his head. “My scars…I’m usually a lot more careful about getting undressed. I forgot myself.”

“Kurt, I think that’s good. It’s progress.”

“She saw them, on the ship, the day you and I sparred. She cried at the sight of me.”

“You think she reacted out of fear? Or repulsion? You know her better than that.”

“I know,” he replies, nodding slowly. “But how do I begin to tell her about it when she can barely stand to look at it?”

Vasco steps closer and reaches a hand toward him, waiting for him to either let him or to pull away. When he holds, the sailor rests a hand on his shoulder. “Have faith in her, Kurt, because she has all the faith in the world in you,” he says, releasing him quickly and turning back in the direction of the house, leading the way.

Vasco’s words rattle around inside his head as he follows behind him. He knows them to be true, and still, he doubts himself. He doubts his ability to both love and protect her. Fears their affections for one another being used against them both.

As they step through the door, they hear Elizabeth and Siora talking in the dining room and smell the savory aroma of real food, calling them to the table. Kurt sits across from Elizabeth, and allows his boot to graze hers, noticing the tiny twitch in her smile as he does.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Lying in bed, unable to sleep, Elizabeth considers the last few days. Her first time in a native village; the villagers reacting to her as if she was one of them, trying to communicate with her in their native language as if they expected her to understand. Siora, herself, had done the same on their first meeting.

The mark. It has to be the mark. She always had questions about the mark on her face. Where it came from. What it was. Her mother had always called it a birthmark, something she was born with, but she knew. She had always known it was more than that. Had always suspected, being the only person of Serenese descent with such a mark and the ability to use magic, that it had something to do with the mark and now it’s confirmed.

The words on ol menawi float to the surface of her mind. Unsure what the words mean exactly, she has gathered that it has something to do with a bond to the island that allows them to draw on the earth to use magic. Others, like Siora, can draw vines from the ground. She made a few attempts at it herself but was never able to produce anything. Perhaps with more practice she could as well.

Her mother, there is no way her mother was bound to the island, never having been here and having no mark to show for it. The only conclusion is that it must have been her father, who traveled on many expeditions away from home. He must have been bound on one of his travels to the island. It is possible he hid his mark. But, her mother, he could not have hidden it from her. So, she knew. She knew and she never said a word.

This understanding only leads her to more questions. Now she wonders why her father. He was not a native, not a spiritual person from all accounts. He was a noble, a member of the Congregation. This seems an unlikely honor to bestow on what the natives refer to as a renaigse. It makes no sense.

In the morning, she will ask Siora. She must have answers.

Still unable to sleep, she climbs out of bed and leaves her room, tiptoeing quietly down the stairs and through the sitting room, around the table and into the kitchen where a dark shape turns towards her and she gasps, jumping back and conjuring a flame in her palm, rearing back.

Suddenly, a strong hand is gripping her wrist and pulling her towards the counter, and she sighs into the familiar scent and touch, shaking the flames innocuously from her hand and into the sink behind them as she curls into his arms.

“Shhh, Greenblood. It’s just me,” he whispers, threading his fingers into her hair and pushing it out of her face.

Alone in the darkened room, with Kurt’s arms wrapped protectively around her, their hearts beating out of their chests, she feels herself on the verge of asking him to take her to his bed. She knows he will if she asks, but she also knows he’s still not ready. Whatever demons he wants to forget are still tormenting him and not even a night with her is going to fix him no matter how much they both want it. She makes a firm decision to let him come to her on his terms, when he’s ready.

Slowly pulling away as her eyes begin to adjust to the dim room, she grabs a glass and fills it with cool water, drinking it down quickly.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, taking the glass and refilling it before handing it back to her.

Shaking her head, she replies, “No. I have so many questions that need answers.”

“About this?”

He lightly grazes the mark on her cheek with the back of his fingers sending an electric current coursing over her skin, leaving her hair standing on end as effectively as her magic. “Yes. Where it came from. What it means. Especially now that I’m here where my magic seems to grow stronger every day.”

“Think you might grow some of those horns like Siora?” he asks, his brows raised suggestively.

“Would you call me pretty flower if I did?”

He smiles warmly and takes her hand in his. “You’re far too beautiful to be relegated to the rank of pretty, Greenblood.”

“Would you still find me beautiful if I grew horns?”

“You are beautiful. Nothing can change that. Come, let’s get you back in bed,” he says, offering his arm.

She raises her eyebrows just enough to make his cheeks redden, taking his arm and walking with him back to the stairs and up to her room. Inside she opens her bathroom door wide, leaving him an open invitation in no uncertain terms.

Kurt lifts one hand, brushing her hair from her eyes and, with a hand on each side of her face, kisses her lips softly and sweetly, pressing his cheek to hers and whispering, “Goodnight, Greenblood,” into her ear before backing away through the bathroom and retreating to his room, closing his door between them, the lock clicking immediately after.

“Goodnight,” she says softly to the empty room, turning and walking back to her bed. Climbing under the blanket, tucking it under feet and rolling to her side, she looks out through the window and watches the stars until she falls asleep.

When she wakes in the morning, she quickly looks over and sees her door is still open and Kurt’s is still closed. A sad laugh escapes her and she sighs looking at it, as if the two doors represent their entire relationship.

Throwing the blanket off, Elizabeth climbs out of bed, and moves to the bathroom where she splashes water on her face, before dressing in something proper for her cousin’s court and descending the stairs to the sitting room. She can hear three distinct voices in the dining room as she nears the door and realizes she is the last one up.

“Siora, what happens now? Who will watch over your village?” Vasco asks softly.

“My sister, Eseld, will lead the village for now, at least until we have said goodbye to our mother.”

“When will that happen?”

She looks up at Elizabeth with a smile as she continues. “We have to wait for the right time in the lunar cycle to perform the ritual.”

Seating herself next to Siora, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and across from Kurt, she eats quietly while glancing occasionally at him when her foot happens to graze his, feigning ignorance as she looks away.

He shifts in his seat and cocks his head at her with a smirk. “What’s on the agenda today, Greenblood?”

“What is this Greenblood? This is not your name, correct?”

Elizabeth flashes Kurt a smile and waits for him to answer.

“It’s just something I’ve called her since we started training years ago.”

She should have known he would find a way around giving a straight answer. “Siora, I have some questions.”

“You have questions for me?” she asks, looking around in confusion.

“I do. About my mark.”

“Of course. I will answer your questions if I can, carants.”

She takes a deep breath before she begins. “I know there is no way my mother bears a mark, so it must have been my father who was bound to the island. He did travel a lot and he must have come here. But why would your people bond some renaigse noble to the island?”

Her brows furrow, and she tilts her head in thought. “That I cannot answer. If true, it makes no sense. We would never do such a thing,” she says, placing her hand over Elizabeth’s.

“I suspected as much. There is far more to this story.”

“There must be. Perhaps someone like Dunncas can help. He is a wise man and the chief of the village of Vigygidaw. We can stop there on our way to San Matheus.”

“Thank you, Siora. I do want to take a few days to rest and prepare before we head out this time. And I must go see Constantin today and report on the ruins we discovered.”

When they’ve all finished their breakfast, she leads as they file out of the house and make their way to the palace.

When she enters, Constantin addresses her, “Fair cousin! You are back! How I missed you!

She is taken aback by his appearance. With large, dark circles under his eyes, he appears as if he has not slept well in days. ‘Constantin, you look tired. Don’t tell me you’re sneaking out of your own palace to create trouble around the city?

“Nothing doing, fair cousin, with these damn guards watching my every move,” he says, gesturing at the soldiers stationed all around the room. “I’m sure it’s just the eternal boredom weighing on me. What news do you bring?”

She solemnly reports on the outcome of the battle. “Despite moving as quickly as we could, we arrived too late to stop the battle…and the Queen fell.”

"I am extremely sorry for your loss princess..."

"Thank you. My clan has experienced great losses at the hands of the Lions.”

Leaning forward in his seat, he says, "We shall keep a close eye on the Bridge Alliance and their undertakings, rest assured."

“I also have a discovery to report. We found a strange ruins, ancient, and most likely built by people from the continent.

“How ancient? As far back as the first landings of the Bridge Alliance?

Have considered it herself, she replies, “Constantin, they date much further back than that. Siora spoke of a legend about a people who came from the sea and built a city there which was later destroyed.”

“A people from the sea? Could it have been the Nauts?”

“We have no interest in establishing settlements on the island. Our ports and our home island are all we need,” Vasco replies with a strong objection to the idea that it was his people who built the ruins.

“Perhaps they are from an older Naut tradition. This story warrants further investigation. I recall something I read about some ruins in one of Lady Morange’s reports. She might know more about them.”

“I will speak to her, but any investigation is going to have to wait. I plan to leave in a few days to deliver your regards to the governors of San Matheus and Hikmet.”

“Please come and say goodbye before you leave…” he pleads.

Outside the palace, Elizabeth asks the guards where to find the home of Lady Morange. They both point to the small courtyard to the north, just beyond a short flight of stairs. Passing around the statue, they take the northernmost opening where they find a row of respectable homes that leads to an alleyway. As she rounds the corner, she reads the names on the plates until she comes to one marked L. Morange and gently raps the knocker.

"Good day, Lady Morange. Do you remember me?"

"Of course. Lady de Sardet. Please, come in.”

The four companions all enter and are directed to take a seat, but Kurt chooses to stand at attention next to the door while the others sit

“I hope you are settling in well here.”

“Yes, thank you. I came to ask you about the ruins to the northwest of the city.”

"The site that the natives call the did e kiden nádageis?"

Clearly mildly annoyed, Siora responds, "That is not how we pronounce it, but, yes, we are speaking of the same place."

Laughing, Lady Morange replies, "Your language is difficult to master, but I find it fascinating!” She looks back to Elizabeth and continues. “To answer your question, I have seen the ruins you speak of, and I am certain they are of continental construction but are far more ancient than any known explorations would explain. There are, in fact, more ruins on a cliff east of the city but I was never able to organize an expedition beyond the mines at the base of the cliff. If you want answers, that is where you should begin.”

~Kurt~

Kurt is the first one to file out the door, keeping a watchful eye as he follows Elizabeth back through the square and to the house. When they arrive, she is given a message delivered from Quartermaster Manfred requesting she and Kurt come and see him about some matter concerning the Guard and the Merchant Congregation.

Immediately concerned what it’s about as he told Manfred not to talk to anyone about the crates, he suggests, “Greenblood, I can go and see what this is all about.”

“The Quartermaster specifically requested that I come along.”

He nods and leads her towards the barracks leaving Vasco and Siora behind.

With every step, his uneasiness grows, unsure what Manfred could want with her, hoping it has nothing to do with the crates. With the page from the manifest destroyed, he simply has to check in and see that his instructions were followed.

As they walk back through the courtyard and follow around the large building on the right, about halfway down the alley, another street takes them to the east and directly to the Coin Guard Barracks. Inside, he shoots a look at Manfred who shakes his head so imperceptibly that no one else notices.

“Your Excellency, my name is Manfred, Quartermaster. I need to speak with you about a matter that concerns both of us. I’ve been informed that some of our soldiers have been involved in some kind of extortion ring, taking large sums of money from merchants in exchange for protection.”

Kurt is only momentarily relieved that the reason for their being there has nothing to do with the crates, but the realization that members of the guard are involved in such dastardly schemes has his hackles up. “The Guard is extorting money from merchants in the city?”

Manfred gives him a sheepish look. “I’m afraid so. And I have a report that a merchant was found dead. Beaten. A silver coin left in his mouth.”

“Do you expect that I will help you sweep this under the rug?” Elizabeth asks, that noble haughtiness tingeing her usually soft voice.

‘Of course not. We will punish those involved to the extent that the law allows. But I sent for you, your Excellency, because the merchants are afraid of the guard. Rightly so. I hoped they might be willing to speak to you.”

“I see. I will speak to them and see what I can learn.”

As Elizabeth walks back to the door, Kurt steps closer to Manfred and asks quietly, “Did you take care of what we talked about?”

“Yes, it’s done, Kurt. The two soldiers will be leaving in a few days and everything has been destroyed. There is nothing to tie any of us to it.”

Kurt nods and claps Manfred on the shoulder, turning to catch up to Elizabeth. When he passes through the arch that leads to the doors, he catches a familiar name on a roster as he passes by. Ducking back in, he looks closer and confirms the name Reiner on a list of recruits before he follows Elizabeth out.

At the blacksmith, they learn only the name of the merchant who was killed, a man named Renaud, but the man refuses to speak further. The apothecary is even less helpful refusing to speak to them altogether.

“These soldiers are effective. They have these merchants too afraid to speak even to me.”

“The law of silence, Greenblood. If you talk, you’re next to end up dead in the street.”

She continues down the street to a merchant stall tucked around a corner, a prime location for unscrupulous soldiers to threaten and harass someone out of sight.

Kurt stands guard while she questions the man, curiously watching the many soldiers who seem to patrol the area, wondering not only how an area so well-guarded could be the scene of such crime but also why this particular area has such a heavy guard presence.

When she steps out next to him, she leads him back toward the house and through the gate before she explains the situation. “It took bit of coin to loosen him up but he did agree to help. He’ll send word when he expects them to return so we can catch them in the act.”

“I’m sorry, Greenblood. I shouldn’t be surprised that an enterprise that can be bought by the highest bidder has some unsavory elements, but…”

“Kurt, it’s not your fault.”

They return to the house where Vasco gives them a questioning look. With Siora upstairs in her room, Kurt quickly explains the situation to the Captain who insists on going with them when they do receive word from the merchant.

“You really don’t have to do that, Vasco. This isn’t the Naut’s responsibility,” Elizabeth murmurs quietly so just the three of them can hear.

“No, but you don’t know how many guards you might have to face.”

The Captain has a point, one he should have realized himself. “He’s right, Greenblood. And he’s good in a fight.”

Kurt watches as she nods, reluctantly.

“Thank you.”

For a time after, Kurt watches as Elizabeth reads curled up on the sofa by the fire, while he maintains both their weapons, preparing for whatever is coming. The unknown is always more unsettling for him. Not knowing who they will be facing, how many or how skilled they are.

Alone with her for the moment, he remembers the only time Elizabeth has taken a life and the effect it had on her. “Greenblood?”

She closes her book and looks up at him. “Yes?”

“Are you ready for whatever happens tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, the sight of her shaken and in shock burned into his mind. “Are you prepared to take a life? If it comes to it?”

“I’m prepared to do what I have to do, Kurt. But perhaps we should send for Manfred to arrest these men.”

“When the message comes, I’ll go fetch him.”

“Thank you, Kurt,” she says, crossing the room and slipping the book into the shelf before climbing the stairs.

As the three companions wait, the darker it gets the more the tension builds. These are the moments that wear on Kurt. The waiting. Only this time, Elizabeth is involved, in danger. When someone bangs the knocker all three of them jump and Siora looks around at them curiously. Abigail answers the door and delivers a written message to Elizabeth before stepping back out of the room.

Elizabeth nods in his direction. He stands and straps on his sword and steps out the door, quickly followed by Vasco. Without turning or stopping, Kurt calls back over his shoulder, “Stay with her. I’ll be right back.”

Picking up his pace, he jogs across the square and around the corner to the barracks, bursting through the doors. “Manfred, come with me if you want to arrest your culprits,” immediately speeding back out into the street and heading back to the house with the Quartermaster on his heels.

When they arrive back in the square, Vasco and Elizabeth are waiting by the gate. She cuts around a building to her right and drops down over a ledge before sneaking over a low wood fence behind the merchant’s stall. Kurt follows her with less apprehension now. Perhaps he was wrong before and she needs more skills than a quick blade and a sharp wit in her new position as legate. They hide in the shadows and wait for the culprits to show.

Just as they begin to grow restless, a group of three armed men show up and drag the merchant into the alley. Kurt puts a hand up for the others to wait while he sneaks through a narrow alley and around blocking their escape. Under cover of full shadow, he draws closer as they listen for the men to implicate themselves.

"I hope you have what we're looking for, my good friend. Our man with the silver coin is not known for his patience!" a tall man in a long coat says, grabbing the merchant by his collar.

"I moved heaven and earth to collect the sum...alas, I ran out of time!"

"More fool you if you think Egon will be satisfied with your excuses. You know what happens to those who refuse to pay!"

Before the situation can get out of hand, Elizabeth steps out of the shadows with Vasco close behind. “Let this man go! You are under arrest.”

"We'll see about that! Who will stop us? We are the Guard."

Kurt scoffs and narrows his eyes at the men. “You are unworthy of such a title. Nothing but a bunch of thieves and murderers.”

Manfred steps out and exclaims, "Like the lady said, you are under arrest.”

Seeing they are outnumbered, and recognizing Kurt, they reluctantly surrender, allowing Manfred to cuff and chain them.

A quick search of the leader's pockets uncovers a note signed Egon and a silver coin. Elizabeth reads the note before passing it to Manfred. “These men were supposed to meet this Egon near the barracks tonight.”

“Egon is likely an alias. The way we will tell these brutes is by following the silver coin,” Kurt says, looking de Sardet over from a distance, making sure none of the men had caused her any harm.

In the background they can hear the merchant thanking them and de Sardet quickly brushes him off as they leave the alleyway, Manfred leading his culprits in one direction toward the barracks while the three companions make their way across the square and into the courtyard in front of Lady Morange’s home, withdrawing into the shadows as they grow close to a group of suspicious men.

Unable to make out exactly what is being said, they pick up a few words here and there that indicate they are on the right track. Silver coin, Renaud, accident, followed by a rather brazen “remind them that the silver coin can shake everyone, even the guards” which has Kurt itching to draw his steel.

Putting a hand up to stop him, Elizabeth whispers, “We should let him go, follow him. He might lead us to more of these men.”

Kurt nods but gets a good look at the men who walk away toward the barracks. Now, leading, he edges along the building, looking for the man and finding his shape silhouetted against the sky. Never letting them get too close and always staying deep in the shadows, they follow the man around the exterior wall, and Kurt motions for Vasco to come around the other side of the Coin Guard building to block any possible escape. He and Elizabeth keep moving, following their quarry past the north gate and around to the back of the barracks.

Once they have the men trapped, Kurt steps out of the shadows with his hand on the hilt of his sword, prepared to draw but giving the men a chance to surrender first.

The men quickly turn and see Vasco standing in their way.

“Who are you and why are you following me?”

Elizabeth steps up closer and Kurt puts a hand on her shoulder keeping her from getting too close. “We would like to ask you a few questions about the silver coin. Egon, is it?”

“I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

“We overheard you. The silver coin can shake everyone. I believe those were your words.”

“Well, that may be, but I’m still not Egon.”

“Even so, you are under arrest.”

“There are only three of you. I like my odds,” the man says stepping away from his comrades.

The other two men immediately put their hands up realizing that their leader is willing to let them take the fall while he tries to make a run for it. As he steps back up to attack the two of them, Vasco grasps his arms, quickly wresting his arms behind him and holding him tightly as he fights against him.

Elizabeth and Kurt grab each of the other men and lead them, with Kurt taking up the rear, keeping a close eye on the man in front of him, making sure Vasco has him all the way to the barracks where they lead them downstairs to the cells.

Manfred follows them down and produces yet another silver coin from the leader’s pocket. “Lock these men up for now,” he says to the gaoler with disgust as he turns and leads them back upstairs.

“Manfred,” Kurt says, “There were others involved. I’ll write their names down.”

Manfred sighs. I’ll see to it that they are arrested. For now, I’m just glad this whole business is over.”

“I wouldn’t count on that. I think we’ve ended the extortion, at least for now, but I have a feeling that this goes higher and deeper than we know.”

“Why would you think that? This seems like a small sting operation, going after a few merchants.”

“I’m fairly certain that we have not yet apprehended Egon. If that’s even the name of whomever is heading up this organization,” Kurt offers in reply, his hand clapped on Manfred’s shoulder.

‘This silver coin business, trust me, we will question every last man and I will not stop until I get answers.”

“Thank you, Manfred. I’ll check back in to see how it’s going.”

As the three of them step out into the cool night air, they all sigh in relief to have ended at least their part in the affair without bloodshed or any innocent bystanders getting caught in the fray.

“You two go on ahead and I’ll be close behind you,” Vasco says as he walks off in the direction of the port.

Shrugging, Kurt and Elizabeth head west and then south to the courtyard they passed through earlier. As she walks under the tree in the middle, her hand trailing along the fence, falling leaves flutter around her and catch in her hair. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he gently grasps her wrist in the darkened space, turning her so her back is pressed against the iron bars, his hand releasing her to reach up and pluck a leaf from her hair, brushing the feathery edge against her cheek and down to her throat.

The hairs on her neck stand on end as a soft gasp escapes her mouth, and she looks so vulnerable in his hands, holding back and waiting for him to lead the way. Some kind of unspoken impasse has been reached between them, palpable, tangible.

A few strands of her hair have fallen loose and kiss her cheek, and gods help him, but he has nothing left in him to resist the temptation. He reaches out slowly and tucks a strand behind her ear. Placing his hands around the spiked tips of the iron fencing on either side of her, grasping them tightly, Kurt dips forward, and with his chest lightly grazing hers with each breath, he leans in and brushes his lips across hers, lightly pulling on her top lip between his, panting as he releases the posts and recedes into the shadows.

He watches as she takes a step forward and offers her hand, which he looks at for a moment before taking it, and following her out into the empty square, and through the gates of her house. They walk slowly through the small garden, her free hand brushing over the hedges and the contours of the topiary until they reach the fountain in the middle, the moon reflecting in the still water over their heads.

“Greenblood…”

“There you two are!” Vasco says rather loudly as he comes up behind them.

“Well observed, Vasco,” she mutters in annoyance without breaking eye contact with Kurt, following the Captain to the door and into the house.

“Where have you been?” Siora asks all three of them accusingly as soon as they step inside. “I’ve been worried that something happened.”

“Come, Siora,” Vasco says, leading her into the dining room where they sit and drink while they fill her in on the events of the evening.

Kurt spends the entire time quiet and watching Elizabeth, his head fogging with each drink of rum. He really must insist the Captain find something else much less intoxicating next time. He can hardly think with the fuzziness enveloping his mind. There was something he wanted to say to Elizabeth before and now the thought is gone.

Before she can reach the point of being drunk, Kurt stands and nods at Elizabeth to follow, wishing the others goodnight as they pass out of the dining room and through the sitting room, climbing the stairs. Once out of sight, he takes her hand and leads her to her room, placing the leaf he still holds in her hand before backing away through the bathroom. After he says goodnight, he closes his door between their rooms, but he leaves it unlocked this time.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt wakes before anyone else, except maybe Juliet and Abigail downstairs in the kitchen preparing breakfast. He had tried to go back to sleep, laying there with his eyes closed tight, but his thoughts keep him awake, thinking about Elizabeth, about how differently things could have gone the night before. He shudders at the thought of how easily something could have gone wrong and how quickly.

Dragging himself out of bed and beginning his morning routine, his head is heavy with the weight of the corruption that seems to be permeating its way through the Guard, starting with Torsten and working its way down. Without knowing who is upright and who is loyal to the Commander, Kurt’s search for someone to replace him in the palace had been on hold until he saw that name on the roster in the barracks.

Reiner. If anyone would be trustworthy enough to watch over Constantin, it would be Reiner. He has heart and honor and an instinct for swordplay. But he’ll need more than just his word to see to it. An endorsement from Elizabeth would go a long way toward making it happen.

Downstairs, he stokes the fire in the sitting room before seating himself at the dining table with coffee and breakfast, waiting for the Elizabeth to come down. She was still sleeping soundly when he quietly slipped out of the bathroom and down the stairs, but he hears the sound of movement above him now.

Vasco is the first to settle in next to him, coffee in hand. “Morning, Kurt.”

“Morning, Sailor.”

“No offense, but I hope we’re done with dirty dealings with the Coin Guard. Between last night and those crates…” he mutters, taking sip of coffee and giving Kurt side-eye.

Kurt debates for a moment about whether it is better to let the comment go or to say something, how likely it is that he might bring it up again. “About that, Vasco, I think it would be best if we just forget all about those crates. For everyone’s benefit.”

“I doubt my Admiral has forgotten.”

Kurt shifts and blurts out, “Well, she’ll have a difficult time proving they ever existed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what I said,” he replies with a sigh. His stupid mouth. “There is nothing, not in your manifest or in the barracks, to prove that those crates ever existed.”

“Kurt, what is really going on?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

He hopes the sailor will leave it at that because the less he knows, the better. He goes back to silently eating his breakfast waiting for Elizabeth to join them.

Siora stumbles in first, closely followed by Elizabeth. When she finally sinks into the chair across from him with a coffee in hand, he takes a chance to catch her before she makes any plans. “Greenblood, can I talk to you?”

“Of course, Kurt.”

“Before we left Serene, I recruited a young man, Reiner, incredibly talented and honorable. I just discovered he’s here in New Serene and I hoped you would go with me to the barracks to meet him. I’d like your opinion.”

"My opinion?"

“Yes. As you know, I’ve spent almost every moment with you since we left Serene.” At this he smiles almost shyly. Then he shakes his head gently and continues, “But I still have my orders to keep Constantin safe. And after recent developments, I realize that I don’t know who can be trusted to watch over him.”

“So you think this Reiner could be a personal guard for my cousin?”

“Exactly,” he says with a nod. “You hold influence, both with Constantin and with the Guard. Would you come with me to meet him?”

“Of course. Let’s go after we’ve finished breakfast.”

Siora looks at him with an unusual softness. "I had thought you a lone wolf, with only our good friend in your pack, but I was mistaken."

Kurt smiles and replies, "I am full of surprises, pretty she-wolf," darting a look at Elizabeth who smiles without looking at him.

"I've been asking myself why everyone calls you Captain, seeing as how you have no ship. But now, I'm beginning to understand!"

"I'm happy to have poured some oil in your lantern, sailor."

Elizabeth attempts to stifle it, but it’s no use. She laughs uncontrollably as Kurt shakes his head. “Thank you, Greenblood,” he teases, making a pitiful attempt to keep a straight face but soon he feels a smile forming and his shoulders heave as her laughter catches on like wildfire. Vasco and Siora look at each other and back to the two of them and are soon roaring along with them.

In the Coin Guard building, they enter the main office area of the barracks. As Kurt glances around to the roster looking for Reiner’s company, he notices that his name has been completely obscured, as if it was never there, only a swath of black ink left behind.

Turning, he leads them over to where Manfred stands checking some list. He looks up at the collective sound of their boots on the wood floor. 'Your Excellency. Kurt. What can I do for you?"

“I brought her Excellency to meet my recruit, Reiner, but his name seems to be blacked out from the roster.”

“Kurt, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…”

From the pitying look on Manfred’s face and the somber tone of his voice, Kurt already knows. Holding up a hand he takes a deep breath and sighs. “He’s dead?”

Nodding slowly, he explains, “He was found in the harbor behind the barracks yesterday. Apparently, he stumbled out of the tavern, drunk, and fell from the dock. I’m sorry, Kurt.”

Shaking his head and crossing his arms, he steps forward and replies angrily, “That’s a load of bollocks! Reiner wasn’t a drinker.”

“Kurt, you know how it is when these kids get away from home for the first time. Homesick, lonely.”

He leans in and insists, “Not Reiner.”

“If you don’t believe me, go and talk to the doc downstairs. He’s the one who examined the body.”

“Believe me, I will do just that,” Kurt says with more spite than intended.

Turning to their left, he leads the others through a large arch and then down a flight of stairs to the basement where a doctor is seated at a desk before them.

"Can I help you with something?"

He glances at Elizabeth who nods, her hand lightly resting on his back, encouraging him. “I’m here to inquire about Reiner, to find out what happened to him.”

“Are you family?” the doctor asks, looking him up and down.

“I’m the reason he was here. I recruited him. He has no family here.”

“What did you want to know?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Kurt asks, “When did you receive the body?”

"Yesterday, very in the early morning."

“In what condition?” he asks, swallowing dryly, not sure he wants to know.

“He was brought in by a group of men who said that they had all been drinking all evening at the tavern and the young man had stepped out to relieve himself, and never came back. When they left the tavern several hours later, they found him floating in the harbor and brought him here.”

“There is no way that story is true,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “Reiner was not a drinker.”

“You’re neither friend nor family. Perhaps you didn’t know the boy as well as you thought.”

“And how did he die, then, in your expert opinion?” Kurt cocks his head and stands with his hands on his hips.

“He drowned.”

Kurt’s voice rises as he speaks, “That makes no sense. I’m telling you he wasn’t a drinker, and he could swim. No way he died right next to the dock in a few feet of water.”

As you stated, I am the expert and those are my findings.”

Elizabeth speaks up from his right. “May we see the body?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, to see him in such a state…”

Kurt scoffs. "I'm a soldier, doc. I've seen a number of men in pieces. Let me see the young lad."

“I’m sorry, Captain, but in order to maintain order and integrity, I must refuse.”

Kurt grips the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white.

“We haven’t been properly introduced. I am Lady de Sardet, cousin to the governor of this city. As such, I have the authority to inspect this barracks,” Elizabeth says, invoking her title to get somewhere with the man.

“In this room, I am in charge. The dead carry and spread infections. In the interest of public safety, I cannot allow you to do that.”

She steps up to her full height and her voice changes, haughty and cold, as she speaks, “In that case, I will go and speak with my cousin, the governor, and return with orders to allow me access. Meanwhile, my friend here can keep you company until I return. He’s rather upset over all of this, and the slightest provocation could send him over the edge. He can be rather violent when he’s in this state.”

"You...you wouldn't dare! I've been appointed by the Elder of the University of..."

"Quite violent," Kurt quickly adds with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Fine! I see there will be no stopping you. Do as you wish.”

Kurt leads them around the desk and through the door to a small exam room where Reiner’s body lies on the table.

Leaning in, Elizabeth takes a closer look at the body. “His face, it’s difficult to tell, but he’s just a boy…”

“That birthmark on his neck. That’s definitely Reiner.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “This is my fault. I should have left him where I found him.”

“Is it okay if we take a look at him?”

Kurt slowly nods. “I’ve seen death more times than I can count. And I need to know what really happened to him. I’m not buying the story that he drowned.”

“Well, I’m certainly not a doctor, Kurt, but it looks like he’s been beaten. Severely. That does not track with an accidental drowning.”

“I knew it. I spent a fair bit of time with the lad, and I know he would never drink himself into a stupor.”

She lays a hand on his shoulder, “I believe you, Kurt. But we need to find proof.”

Vasco picks up a paper on a nearby table among several metal instruments. “This is a preliminary autopsy report…it lists a skull fracture as the likely cause of death. There are also other injuries, many of them older, indicating they happened on several different occasions,” he reads aloud and passes it to Kurt.

“That would mean that there is a pattern of beatings. This young man was systematically beaten to death,” she sighs gloomily taking the paper from Kurt’s outstretched hand.

If this is what he thinks it is…Kurt collapses against the cabinet behind him, eyes closed and breathing heavy. This is the work of Hermann, or someone like him. When he looks up, Vasco stares at him, a knowing look on his face. “He sat there and lied right to our faces.”

Elizabeth leads them out of the room and confronts the man. “That boy did not drown.”

“I assure you; drowning is the cause of death. You are not a doctor.”

“No, I am not. But you are. By your own hand, the cause of death is a skull fracture. The word drowning is mysteriously absent,” she says holding up the report where he can read it. When he tries to grab it, she jerks it back out of his reach.

“I should have destroyed that when I had a chance. They will surely come for me next.”

Kurt steps up and places his hands flat on the desk, leaning in. “What are you on about?”

“The men who brought the body, a couple of Lieutenants, they told me he had drowned but I knew better. I did my own examination but before I could report to Manfred, the men returned and told me to forget what I had seen and to report that he had drowned. They gave me the impression that if I didn’t do what they said, I would end up next to the man on my own exam table.”

“Who were the men?” Kurt asks aggressively.

“No idea. I don’t know many of the men unless they end up injured.”

“Any colors? Distinguishing emblems?”

“None. They were removed. Look, I’m sorry for my deception. The boy was beaten, repetitively and acutely. That is the cause of death. But, please, leave me out of this…I don’t want to suffer the same fate.”

“I’ll be holding onto this report,” Elizabeth says, stuffing it back in her pocket, “but we won’t mention your name.”

As they turn to head up the stairs, Vasco grips Kurt’s shoulder and looks him in the eye. “I’m truly sorry, Kurt. I know the pain of losing a member of your crew.”

"Thank you, Vasco."

Marching slowly up the stairs, Elizabeth leads them across the room to show Manfred the doctor’s report.

Kurt takes the report from her hand and offers it to Manfred. “Reiner didn’t drown. He was beaten to death. The doctor lied because he was being threatened.”

“Who threatened him?” he asks, while looking over the report.

“Some Lieutenants who he didn’t recognize. And they wore no emblems or colors.”

“Intentionally masking their identities.”

Kurt nods in agreement, crossing his arms. “Which regiment was Reiner in? I saw his name on the roster but when I checked again today, it was blacked out.”

“Let’s have a look at the register,” he says, leading the four of them into his office. As he flips through the book on his desk, his mouth drops open. “Stab my heart with a rusty blade! His name's been crossed out! Oh, if I catch the bastard that did that!"

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Reiner was in the 6th, or maybe the 11th. Then he’s just reassigned. No notice.”

“How does that happen without your knowledge?” Kurt asks incredulously.

“He’s not the first lad who has suddenly been reassigned. If I say anything about it, they tell me to mind my business if you know what I mean.”

“There is something truly strange happening. I will get to the bottom of it. You three should go back to the house. I’m going to stay here and do some digging.”

She reaches out and takes his hand, giving a little squeeze. “Are you sure, Kurt?”

He nods. "I need to get to the bottom of this, Greenblood. I don't like being taken for a fool. Even if the lieutenants weren't stationed at these barracks, someone here must know where Reiner was assigned,” he replies and marches heavily across the room, passing back through the arch and up the stairs this time.

~Vasco~

Unable to forget the little he has learned about his identity; Vasco has thought of little else. Not only is he the son of a wealthy merchant, he is also nobility. Or was. He’s not quite sure of how that works, but he only has more questions than ever. Why would a noble give up a son to the Nauts? It makes no sense to him.

Thinking about that pitiable excuse for a file, the lack of details and information, he knows there is some sort of cover up. His contract should have been in there, but it was missing. And the hand scrawled page with what little information was there must have been left by whoever had taken the real file.

Now he wonders if he can even trust what he knows. Are the d’Arcys his family at all? Until Elizabeth mentioned his brother, Vasco never considered the possibility he had one. Why would his family keep one son and give the other away? But, since her disclosure, it has been eating at him, keeping him awake at night.

The entire morning, he has been wanting to speak to Elizabeth, but Kurt’s request seemed to be of greater importance. As they leave the barracks, and pass by the home of Lady Morange, Vasco reaches out and gently grasps Elizabeth’s arm, watching as she turns, looking down at his hand and back up at his face.

“Uh, de Sardet, I know you’ve been rather busy today, and if you don’t have time, I understand, but…”

“What is it, Vasco?”

He hesitates at first, before finally blurting it out. “You mentioned that Lady Morange might be able to tell me more about my family. I hoped you would go with me to speak to her. I don’t know if she would be willing to give me information about some noble family based solely on my word.”

“Of course.”

“I also don’t think we should mention anything about my file, considering how it was acquired,” he says, giving her a conspiratorial look.

“Would you like for me to ask her? We don’t even have to tell her why.”

“I think that would be best.”

She turns and walks the short distance to Lady Morange’s door, rapping the knocker softly.

“Lady de Sardet! Good to see you again in such fine health. To what do I owe this visit?”

"I was hoping I might be able to get some information on the d’Arcy family, from Serene.”

“Of course, come in,” she says, ushering them in and directing them to be seated. “I was well acquainted with them back on Gacane. What is it you would like to know?”

"I know they are merchants, but not much more than that. What can you tell me about their business?”

Lady Morange offers them tea and cake, but they decline, and each take a seat. “The d”Arcys deal in fine furnishings. The palace and your very own manor are at least partly furnished by them. They have some kind of deal with the Congregation giving them preference.”

Vasco watches as Elizabeth’s brows furrow.

“I see. And are there any members of the family on the island?”

“Bastien d’Arcy, the son, has been in New Serene for some time now on business. I believe he set out to make a name for himself. But I have no idea where you could find him. However, he does have an associate, a Madam Clerc, a fairly successful merchant from what I can tell.”

Vasco and Elizabeth glance at each other. “And where could we find her?”

“She has a stall set up on the docks near the port,” she says, gesturing in the direction of the city docks. “You should be able to find her there.”

Back outside, Elizabeth turns to Vasco, “Do you want to go see this business associate?”

He swallows, dryly, hesitating for a moment before finally nodding his head, muttering, “Yes,” and stepping in behind her as they make their way to the docks on the city side of the port. “What Lady Morange said about the d’Arcy family having a preferential contract with the Congregation, that seemed to surprise you.”

“I’ve never heard of my uncle showing any kind of preference to a merchant before. There must be a good reason,” she says before continuing on her way.

At the docks, they spot a stall where a middle-aged woman with short brown hair tucked up under a beret looks to be taking inventory of her merchandise. Vasco looks to Elizabeth who gestures towards the woman.

This time, Vasco steps up and takes the lead. "Are you Madam Clerc? We would like to meet with your associate, Mister d'Arcy."

"Bastien?” she asks with a scoff. “I don't know where he is. I can't say that he often graces us with his presence," she says caustically, looking up from the papers in her hands.

“Do you know where we can find him?”

"I am not his caretaker,” she replies, crossing her arms.

"You don't seem to hold him in high regard."

"My relationship with my associate is no one else's concern. And if you did not come to do business..."

Elizabeth steps in and places several gold coins on the counter. “We need to find him.”

She quickly picks up the coins and slips them into her purse. “He was supposed to meet a client in Hikmet, but I haven’t received any news from him since.”

"Who is this client?" Vasco asks, more than just a little irritated with her lack of concern.

"His name is Ferhat, you'll find him in the alchemist district."

"Do you think something may have happened to him there?"

"His mission wasn't very complicated. He had to pay for a valuable shipment and take charge of it. But with Bastien, anything is possible."

As they leave the docks, Elizabeth looks back and reassures him, “We will be leaving for Hikmet soon. When we arrive, we will seek out this Ferhat and find Bastien.”

Vasco follows along, back toward the house, hoping it will be soon enough to get him out of whatever trouble he is in. Feeling responsible for others is natural as the captain of a ship, but feeling responsible for someone he’s never met, who is tied to him by blood, is something new and strange for him.

In the sitting room, he sits before the fire wondering if Bastien will look like him. If he gets his eyes from one of his parents. What kind of people they are. Lady Morange had said they were friendly and kind. Perhaps they are more like de Sardet than her uncle. Suddenly an excitement fills him to get on the road and find out.

~Kurt~

Kurt drags his feet across the square in the dark, dust trails following him all the way to the gate to the house. As he crosses the courtyard, he collects himself before he opens the door, finding Vasco sitting in the chair before the fire and Elizabeth on the sofa watching him. Both of them turn and look at him when he enters.

“What did you find out?”

He sinks into the sofa next to her and leans back, rubbing his face. “Almost nothing. Reiner was reassigned from the 11th to some phantom regiment that no one wants to talk about because anyone who digs too deep ends up in the harbor.”

“Kurt, are you sure you want to pursue this? It sounds dangerous.”

“I have to. I owe Reiner that much at least.”

Taking his hand in hers, she asks, “How high up do you think this goes?”

“I don’t know. I know a few officers who can be trusted, friends who can help me find this camp. When I do, I could use some help to make sure the debt is settled.”

“Of course.”

“Kurt, count me in,” Vasco replies softly before staring back into the fire.

Kurt stands and puts a hand on Vasco’s shoulder before he trudges up the stairs. In the bathroom, he cleans up as he changes for bed, glancing through Elizabeth’s door before closing his door behind him. He has asked for her help for a second time. But, this time, he knows exactly what they’re getting themselves into.

The Guard here is full of corruption from top to bottom. Missing recruits, mysterious deaths, and no one knows anything. It took the entire day just to find out that Reiner was sent to some ghost camp and that no one can tell him anything about it. Others may have been intimidated and given up looking, but he will not quit until he finds this camp and puts a stop to it.

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

Vasco quietly observes Elizabeth as she turns and watches Kurt plod his way up the stairs, sinking deeper into the sofa with a sigh as he disappears from sight. For a moment, neither speaks, sitting together quietly staring into the fireplace, listening to the wood crackling as it burns. She looks up, following Kurt’s footsteps overhead as he moves around the rooms upstairs.

Turning in his direction, she mutters, “I don’t know what to do for him, Vasco. He won’t talk to me about his past and I don’t know why.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, de Sardet. I don’t think there’s anyone in the world he trusts more.”

She nods, eyes closed, softly whispering, “I know. But why won’t he trust me with this?”

He sighs under the weight of his oath. Though it would simplify things between them, he will not betray his promise. “For a lot of reasons. Shame, fear, anger, protection. You can’t do anything to help him right now and he doesn’t want to burden you with knowing.”

“Is it a burden? Knowing what you know?”

“It’s not easy,” he replies softly, shaking his head.

“He told me there are things I’m better off not knowing.”

“For now, I think he’s probably right.” Vasco leans in and places a hand on hers, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Thank you,” she replies, pulling a small blanket over herself and staring into the fire.

Vasco climbs the stairs and walks purposefully to Kurt’s door, knocking softly, not wanting to wake him if he’s already sleeping.

“Come in, Sailor.” Kurt’s voice, always gruff but with his usual softness underneath, calls out.

He snorts at first. The man has some kind of heightened sense. Opening the door, he asks, “How did you know it was me?”

“I always know. You have a stern way of walking.”

“I walk…sternly?”

He shrugs his shoulders, the smallest hint of a smile turning up the corner of his mouth for a second before it’s gone again. “What can I do for you?”

After he steps inside, he closes the door behind him and takes a seat in the chair at the desk, sitting backwards with his arms resting on the back and his legs spread on either side, his coat falling around him, gathering in a heap of folded fabric on the floor.

“Kurt, do you want to talk about it?”

“I have a feeling that I don’t have much choice.”

“Of course you do. I can leave if you want,” he says, looking at Kurt where he lies on the bed with his arms tucked under his head.

“No.”

“Whatever is happening at this camp, is it like what happened to you?”

At first, he doesn’t answer, and Vasco almost stands to leave, thinking he has made things worse, but then Kurt sits up slowly, one leg pulled up and his arm resting on his knee.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” he replies, rubbing his face vigorously. “The systematic beatings? Yes. Absolutely. It follows that the rest of it is too.”

“I knew, when I read the autopsy report…”

“This has Hermann’s filthy handiwork all over it.”

“You think he’s there? At this camp?” Vasco asks softly, watching Kurt carefully while he works through his thoughts.

“I don’t know. But he’s absolutely tied to it somehow, and that’s how I’m going to find the bastard.”

“You don’t have to do it alone. Let us help you. Find out where this camp is and we’ll make sure it never happens again.”

“That’s the plan,” Kurt replies, lying back and closing his eyes.

Vasco rises from the chair, crosses to the bed and reaches in, giving Kurt’s shoulder a squeeze as he passes by. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight.”

He leaves, closing the door softly behind him and crossing the hall to his own room, adjacent on one wall to Kurt’s. It’s larger than his bedroom on the ship, but lacks the private bath and office space, not that he needs that with no paperwork to worry about now. He slips his hat and coat off and hangs them by the door, kicking his boots off and leaving them on the floor, the wood neither cold nor warm on his feet as he tracks around his room changing and then climbing into bed.

For a long while, he lies there thinking about his place. His future. He wanted, no, he needed to make Fleet Commander to get his hands on his file, but now that he has seen it, everything seems pointless. He had worked so hard for a few words that may or may not be true.

He has wasted so much time.

On the sea, time exists only in the abstract. The distance from one port to the next. Days and weeks merging together in his mind, until all he knows is the taste of the sea and the smell of the wind and the feel of the ship holding him aloft on the waves.

But now, on land, time ticks by slowly. A seafarer without a vessel, Vasco suddenly finds himself adrift for the first time in his life, his bearings lost and his heading unreliable. The excitement he had felt at the prospect of meeting his brother now a tight ball of anxiety in his middle, threatening to purge the dinner he somehow managed to choke down despite his loss of appetite.

Rolling to his side, he curls in on himself, gazing out the window at the stars, trying to ground himself in something familiar, but it only reminds him of his ship and his crew and how much he misses both.

He falls into a restless sleep, and wakes before sunrise, just as the horizon begins to lighten with the coming dawn. With no one else up, and no one likely to wake for a while, he quickly dresses, slipping into his boots and throwing on his coat and hat and quietly leaves the house headed for the port.

He passes no one outside of the Coin Guards on patrol down at the end of the street near the port. They watch him suspiciously as he walks by but make no attempt to stop him before he reaches the Naut side of the city entrance.

Immediately, his attention shifts to the commotion at the dock where workers load cargo on his ship and hope begins to wedge itself into his heart. Just as he is about to continue walking that way, he feels a hand on his elbow and he darts his eyes to his right, eyeing Cabral who is dragging him back towards her post.

"Captain Vasco, I’m surprised to see you here so early. And alone.”

“Admiral, have I been reinstated?”

She glances out towards the ship and back to him. “No, I’m sorry, Vasco. I know you’re still angry with me, but I think you will see in time that it was for the best.”

“Then what is happening with my ship?”

“Captain Ruben has been assigned, temporarily,” she adds hastily as she looks at the expression forming on his face, “to the Sea Horse.”

Placing his hands on the table she uses for a desk, Vasco leans in and loudly exclaims, “You can’t be serious! The man is the embodiment of ineptitude.”

“Trust me, I understand, but if Admiral Asher hears we let a ship sit at the dock with his grandson standing by…”

Scoffing, Vasco shakes his head, continuing, “And if he loses the ship? Or worse, my crew? What then, Admiral?”

“It’s not a long or difficult trip. He’s delivering supplies to the ports in Hikmet and San Matheus and picking up some cargo to bring back here.”

“I still don’t like it.” He crosses his arms over his chest and gives her a sullen stare.

“Your crew is steadfast and sure, Captain Vasco. They will keep her safe.”

“When do they embark?”

“First thing tomorrow.”

“So soon? Will they be holding eventide tonight?”

“Hard to say. They’ve been rather dispirited. It’s a testament to you that they were up in arms when they found out they’ll be leaving without you.”

“May I go and speak with them?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

He walks away slowly with his hands in his pockets, listening to his boots on the wood planks and the waves lapping against the pilings, turning towards the dock where several of his crew are milling around watching the dock hands move around the ship like a bunch of clods. Jonas is the first to spot him and gives him a half-hearted smile as the others turn in his direction.

“Cap’n! Tell me it ain’t so!” Lauro says.

“What happened, Cap?” Solomon asks from his left.

He remembers what Kurt had said about forgetting the crates ever existed. “It’s not important. But I’m sorry. I let all of you down. This is my fault.”

“What if we refuse to sail?”

“Jonas, I appreciate your loyalty, but you can’t put yourself at risk. Especially not for me. I’ll be back soon.”

Jonas nods, his face drawn and sullen.

“Are you celebrating tonight?”

“No eventide. A few of us will probably be at the tavern, but it won’t be the same without you, Captain.”

“What if I were to bring de Sardet and Kurt along?” he asks with a smile watching as they all perk up enough to improve his mood.

“I’ll round up the rest of the crew and spread the word!” Lauro says, dragging Flavia and Jonas away.

He smiles warmly as they hurry off. This is his family. And it always will be.

“See you tonight, Cap,” Solomon says as he walks toward the bunkhouse.

Still standing there looking at his ship with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he feels a hand on his arm and turns to look at Coble. She steps closer and puts her arms around his neck, her red curls tickling his face, and her body pressed warmly against him. Slowly, he puts his arms around her, leaning into her and unexpectedly inhaling the scent of her hair, something citrusy. As she pulls away, he sees a flash of something familiar in her face but it’s gone too quickly to grasp and she’s walking away before he can ask about it.

Suddenly, a spiral of need unfurls in his middle as he watches her cross the yard to the bunkhouse. Coble is a beautiful woman with her untamed red curls. A damn fine navigator, the best he’s ever worked with, she’s several years his senior. A few laugh lines frame her deep blue eyes, but, rather than looking her age, she is both youthful and discerning. Bold in her thinking and perceptive in her decisions.

After she disappears through the tavern door, he turns and walks back in the other direction. As he passes the Harbor Master’s office, Cabral rushes up and steps in his way.

“One more thing, Captain Vasco,” she says, her voice lowered so only the two of them can make out her words. “Something has come to my attention. Your cargo manifest has been tampered with yet again. The page that was doctored to add those crates is missing. Ripped out. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Raising herself just a bit higher on her toes, she tries to look him straight in the eye.

“No, of course not, Admiral. It wouldn’t be worth the risk.”

“That’s what I thought, but you understand that I had to ask? Apparently, we have more than a few men who take their responsibilities lightly. They were drugged with wine and now the crates are also missing. We’re fairly certain the Coin Guard was behind it.”

“Why would you think so?”

Leaning in closer and speaking even lower, she replies, “Because the crates were full of weapons, Vasco. We’re not talking about a minor infraction here. This is treason, a capital offense. But now, we have no evidence it ever happened. Just our word. And you know how much weight our word carries with the Congregation.”

“Yes, Admiral,” he replies, shaken but not letting it show.

“I heard you’ll be joining your men tonight. It’s good of you to encourage them to embark with goodwill. It’s good for morale. I’m proud of you, Vasco.”

He nods and watches as she moves back to her post, feeling ashamed at her words. He had lied to her with every breath and she had bought it. Or at least she wanted to bad enough that she left it at that. He shuffles on toward the city with his head down, nausea once again replacing the pang of desire in his middle.

A capital offense. Treason. He has to speak with Kurt.

Picking up the pace now that the sun is almost up, he hurries back toward the house. When he passes through the square, he glances up at the palace windows, almost certain he can see the shape of Constantin looking down at him. He looks ahead and slips through the gate and to the house. Although he had toyed around with the idea of making a late-night visit to see him sometime, in the end, he realized Elizabeth was right. He looks rather unwell, and he had paid him no mind in court, as if he were a complete stranger.

Inside, he finds everyone else at the table looking at him quizzically.

“I, uh, I woke up early and I went to the port. They’ve assigned another captain to my ship…”

“I’m so sorry, Vasco,” Elizabeth says apologetically.

Vasco seats himself next to Kurt as Juliet places a plate in front of him. “It’s only temporary. But, the man is a feckless pretender who puts my ship and crew at risk.” He begins to pick at his food, his stomach still churning with his thoughts.

“Why would Cabral assign him to a ship like the Sea Horse?”

Taking a large gulp of milk, Vasco sighs and says, “Because a ship that is sitting at the dock isn’t making the guild any gold. I understand her reasoning. If Ruben’s grandfather found out there was a ship just sitting here he would be furious. Especially when his grandson is without one of his own.” He reluctantly stuffs a bite of eggs into his mouth, realizing that he is rather hungry despite his nausea.

“Why is he without a ship of his own?”

“Because he is reckless and incompetent. The only reason he ever made captain is because his grandfather is still on the council, and no one will speak against him.”

She looks over at him, her eyes drawn and places her hand on his. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks softly.

“I appreciate the gesture, de Sardet, but no. It’s already done. The Sea Horse sets sail first thing tomorrow morning. At least my crew will get to put back out to sea, and they will keep watch over her.”

“That seems rather hasty.”

He nods in agreement but drops the subject. Instead, he remembers his promise to his crew. “They are having what we call eventide tonight at the port tavern. It’s our way of celebrating putting back out to sea. I know Jonas would love to see you there, de Sardet.”

“Kurt? Siora? Shall we attend this Naut celebration?”

Kurt gives them both a smile and a nod while Siora shrugs her shoulders.

After breakfast, when he catches Kurt alone, he mutters softly, “I have to talk to you. Now.”

Kurt leads him to his room and checks both doors before motioning to his chair while he seats himself at the end of his bed. “What is this about?”

“I know you said not to mention them, and I didn’t, but Cabral told me they’ve discovered the crates are missing from the warehouse and so is the doctored page from my manifest. And she also mentioned something else…”

“Just say it, Sailor,” Kurt says blankly, as if he has no idea what is coming next.

“Treason. Smuggling weapons aboard a Naut ship is treason. That’s a capital offense.”

“I know. I didn’t want you to worry. If I had known what was in the crates, I never would have…”

He waves his hand at him, cutting him off. “I know that Kurt, but that does nothing to get us out of this situation. Does de Sardet know?”

“Absolutely not. And we’re not going to tell her. She has enough to worry about. Just trust me that it has been dealt with.”

“So you said, but what does that mean?” he asks, his mind in a whirl, once again imagining himself in a port jail. If he’s lucky.

“The two men who collected the crates from the warehouse are aboard a ship on their way back to Serene right now. The crates have been completely destroyed, along with any correspondence that mentioned them. Including the page from your manifest.”

“How?”

Leaning in conspiratorially, Kurt replies, “When we retrieved your file. I ripped it out and I burned it in the fireplace downstairs. There’s nothing left.”

“They’re convinced the Coin Guard is behind all of it. What if they go looking and find the weapons?”

“I don’t know where the weapons are, and I don’t want to know. Neither do you. But they can’t be definitively traced back to us or the ship. All weapons look the same.”

“I can’t believe I almost added the crates to the manifest myself. I would be in the port jail right now, waiting to be hung,” Vasco says, collapsing forward, his face in his hands and his elbows digging into his knees.

“Breathe. You’re looking a little pale,” Kurt replies, patting him gently on the shoulder. “The important thing is that it’s over and it may as well have never taken place. No one can prove anything.”

“How sure are you?” he asks, lifting his head momentarily.

Kurt glances to the door between his room and Elizabeth’s and back to Vasco. “If I had even the slightest thought that this could come back and hurt either of you, I would turn myself in right now. Take all the blame. And, if it comes to it, that is exactly what I’ll do.”

“Apologies, but neither of us are going to stand around and watch you take all the blame when we all unwittingly played a part. We helped to smuggle a few crates, but we had no idea what was in them.”

“That wouldn’t matter. Torsten would never admit his culpability. And…there is nothing to prove it now anyhow.”

He sighs heavily, leaning back in the chair, straining a creak from it under his weight. “Right. Where does this leave us?”

“There are more people involved in this than the three of us and Manfred. The men headed home on that ship, the men who collected and moved the crates into the warehouse, even the quartermaster, Leonardt.”

“How do you know they won’t talk?”

“Because they have just as much to lose. And no one else knows about their involvement. Trust me, Vasco, I have thought all of this through. As long as we go on like we know nothing, everything will be fine.”

“I hope you’re right…” he replies warily, crossing one leg over the other.

“I am. But I think I’ll head over to the barracks and check in with Manfred. I don’t want him panicking if the Nauts show up looking for the weapons. He has to feign ignorance no matter what questions they ask or what they know.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?”

“Not at all, Sailor.”

Kurt stands slowly and pulls on his blue and silver doublet, quickly fastening the buckles and throwing his sword over his back. He then leads him out of the room, downstairs and out of the house. In the courtyard, Vasco follows quietly behind, watching the dust swirl around their feet as they cross the square and pass through the courtyard in the high street to the barracks.

Inside, Vasco wanders around the main room looking at the various items adorning the walls. Various weapons hang here and there, mostly antiques, some decorative. Several banners with the Coin Guard seal are suspended from dowels, varying from looking new to nearly in rags. The most interesting to him are the plaques remembering the fallen. Brothers fighting against one another on opposite sides and honoring both.

He glances over at Kurt, a hard mercenary on the outside, hired by the highest bidder, yet full of integrity and honor. But on the inside, the man is as soft and warm as they come, caring and sensitive. Rather unexpectedly, the man is more than the sum of his parts, not just a guard, not just a soldier.

He would have made a great Naut Captain, bold and brave, yet prudent and resourceful. Vasco considers the both of them, their circumstances. The chance of birth rather than choice had made one a Naut and the other a Coin Guard, but their lives could easily have been reversed. As a Naut, Vasco was predisposed to a disparaging view of the Guard but knowing Kurt better has given him more perspective.

One could easily see them as nothing but coin-fed mercenaries, and most do and some are, but he now realizes there are a few diamonds in the rough here. Like Reiner, who he never met, but takes Kurt at his word on the young man’s character.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Kurt gives him a half smile before crossing over to where he stands. “I’m satisfied that we can all forget about this whole thing. If anyone questions you, you know nothing about it outside of what your Admiral told you.”

“Understood.”

“Sieglinde!” Kurt calls out, stepping around him and moving to the hall.

The name is familiar, something Kurt once told him about his few friends. Vasco follows closely behind, noticing the similarity of the color of their eyes, that steel blue, a soft gray mist. Her cropped dark hair is slicked back away from her forehead, revealing nearly as many scars carved into her face as Kurt’s own.

She easily pulls the man into an embrace which he seems rather keen on, allowing her to hold him for longer than Vasco would have expected. These two obviously have history together and she seems mindful of his sensitivities, quickly releasing him when he begins to look uncomfortable.

“Kurt! I had heard you were in town. About time you came to see me.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been rather distracted and busy with…my charge.”

Sieglinde looks at Vasco now, her brows raised curiously, looking him up and down in a way that makes him feel almost indecent.

“And who might this be?”

Looking at him, Kurt motions at the woman and says, “Major Sieglinde, Captain Vasco,” motioning back at him.

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Captain.”

“Likewise.”

“Come with me to the tavern. We can catch up.”

Kurt glances to Vasco who shrugs and follows them both through a side door that leads through the kitchen and out into the hall where he found himself not so long ago, after sleeping it off in a room upstairs. They enter the tavern and Sieglinde orders a round of drinks for the three of them.

While Kurt and Sieglinde catch up, Vasco’s thoughts drift back to his ship and his crew. He hardly hears the conversation, nodding when he catches them looking at him expectantly now and then. Instead, his thoughts are focused on Coble.

In truth, he noticed her the first day he stepped aboard the Sea Horse. The crew had been together for some time, but their captain had suddenly retired after a long illness, leaving them all stuck on land for weeks while the Admiral scrambled to find a replacement. Green, only just promoted to captain himself, Vasco had ached for the chance to captain the largest ship in the fleet, Cabral’s flagship and somehow, she had given it to him.

Stepping on deck that first day, all eyes on him, he wavered for a moment between being hard and stern like his captain had been and warm and understanding as was his true nature, settling on a balance between the two. He must admit, it was confusing for the crew at first, never knowing which captain they might get when they approached him, but he eventually found his stride and forged a family with them.

The halo of red curls fighting the tricorne placed precariously over them immediately captured his attention. But it was those blue eyes that had caught him off guard, like two deep sea pools one could get lost in. Quickly recovering, he had put it out of his mind. It might not be against the rules, but a captain dallying with his crew, a new captain at that, never felt right to him. And he had never crossed that line. Not even once.

Now, here he is, unable to shake these thoughts from his head. Even as he tries to focus on the conversation happening around him, his thoughts continue to drift back to her. He may have placed a boundary there, but he now realizes he has always had her in the back of his mind. Even the night when he danced with de Sardet, he almost asked Coble to dance with him, but never worked up the nerve.

When Kurt stands, he is shaken out of his own thoughts for a moment and rises, following him outside after Sieglinde heads back to the barracks.

Stopping and standing before him with his head tilted and his hands on his hips, Kurt places his hands on his shoulders. “Sailor, you still with me?” he asks with his brows raised.

Vasco nods and mutters, “I have a lot on my mind.”

Kurt turns and walks back in the direction of the house, kicking up tiny pebbles and dust along the way, with Vasco following closely behind. When they reach the house, the smell of food wafts through the door as they enter and they both seat themselves on one side of the table where Elizabeth and Siora are waiting.

“Where have you two been?” Elizabeth asks curiously, her eyes focused on Kurt.

“I went to the barracks to say hello to an old friend. Dragged Vasco along with me for protection,” he teases, earning him a smirk from Vasco and a laugh from the rest of them.

Upstairs, later, Vasco looks through his wardrobe for something suitable to wear. Something nicer than he would usually wear but not so much as to make him stick out from his crew. He settles on an ivory-colored shirt with small royal blue buttons, finished with a pair of lapis lazuli cufflinks and a pair of smoke-colored pants.

When he steps out of his door, both Kurt and de Sardet give him sidelong looks that have him turning to go back and change before both of them grab his arms, tugging him back down the hall and downstairs where Siora is already waiting. She glances up and back down before darting her eyes back up at him again.

“Okay, this is ridiculous. I’m going to change,” he mutters, again turning away and trying to head back to his room.

“Vasco, you look nice. Let’s go.”

He follows them out into the early evening, just a bit cool as the sun dips low in the sky. Following along behind, he keeps his head down and watches his feet as they shift over the cobblestone street, passing through the market where the merchants are packing up for the day, and by the bakery where the smell of fresh bread always lingers.

As they pass through the arch and into the port district, he raises his head, his eyes on the tavern in the distance, watching for any of his crew straggling around outside. As they reach the door, the tavern sign swinging above with a creak, he steels himself before they step inside.

Most of the crew is seated at several tables on one side of the room but a quick look around tells him Coble is not among them. Jonas rises and pulls Elizabeth onto the bench next to him, passing her a mug of ale. Vasco watches curiously as Kurt finds himself a seat on the opposite side of the table, grabbing his own pint and giving him a wink.

Vasco takes Siora’s arm and leads her to another table, introducing her to Solomon and a few other members of his crew. He watches as she relaxes and settles in next to him, sipping a small mug of mead and getting acquainted with the Nauts that surround her.

After a while, he notices a door open at the top of the stairs and watches as Coble steps out and makes her way down, ordering a drink and leaning over the bar, her dark pants tightening over her backside in a way that shows off her curves. She glances over her shoulder at him suddenly, flashing a wry smile as if she can read his thoughts.

Vasco watches her from across the tavern, throwing her head back with laughter, as a few Nauts try to chat her up, her hair flowing like wildfire around her shoulders. She glances at him now and then, that same look on her face that she flashed that morning. A look he instantly recognizes now, want and desire reflected in her sapphire eyes.

In an instant, the mood shifts as she jerks away and slaps the face of one of the Nauts who grabs her arm and begins pulling her away from the bar and toward the door. Jumping up and over the table, Vasco flies across the room, stepping in front of the man and blocking his way.

“What ‘re ya doing, mate?”

“The lady doesn’t appear to be interested in your company,” Vasco replies, peering down angrily at the man who still has his hand on Coble’s arm.

“She was plenty interested a few minutes ago. She will be again once I get her alone.”

“Madam, do you want to leave with this…man?” he asks, his eyes shifting to hers, not wanting to overstep.

“No, I absolutely do not.”

“You heard the lady, remove your hand.”

At this he does remove his hand, but only to take a swing at Vasco who quickly shifts back out of his reach angering the shorter man who lays a hard punch into his stomach. Vasco doubles over for just a moment, recovering just in time to grab the man’s fist before he can get in another blow. He then feels two pairs of hands grab him from behind and realizes the man’s buddies are now holding him on either side as he stalks up, ready to lay into him.

Just as the man pulls back, preparing to swing, Kurt steps between them and is pushing the man towards the bar with one hand on his chest, quickly looking back over his shoulder at Vasco before turning back to the matter at hand. Meanwhile, Coble has picked up an empty bottle from a nearby table and strikes the man on his left in the head, shattering it and turning it into a deadly weapon at the same time. Gently taking it from her hand, Vasco turns it on the man on his right who immediately releases his arm and slinks backwards.

It is at this point that all hell breaks loose as the rest of the assailants’ crew clashes with Vasco’s crew in a knock down drag out bar fight. Fists are flying and bottles are breaking, glass crunching underfoot, as the confusing mix of bodies dance around the room.

This does not go on for long, however, before a deafening shot rings out, freezing everyone mid-swing as the barkeep fires into his ceiling. Immediately after, some liquid begins to pour through the hole and over his head, running down his face and dripping onto the bar in front of him.

Vasco and the others all quietly step back to their seats watching as the man silently stares in rage. Coble is left standing in the middle of the room watching him. Without taking her eyes off of him, she crosses the room in his direction with a grace he has never given much attention before, avoiding those who move around her, almost floating. He expects her to say something or make a move, but she passes by, finally turning to climb the stairs in the corner of the room and disappearing through the door at the top.

He leans in and whispers into Kurt’s ear, “I’ll not be home tonight. Don’t let the boss worry,” watching the curve of his face shift with his smirk as he nods his head.

In an instant, he bounds up the stairs and through the door, glancing around the darkened hall. Seeing no trace of her, he begins to make his way towards the other end, shuffling his feet in the dim space his hands held out in front of him. Suddenly, a soft, warm hand grasps his wrist, yanking him through an open door into a dark room, closing the door behind him.

Too dark to see, he can smell the familiar citrusy scent of her hair which is already tickling his neck as she moves in close.

“Captain Vasco?”

Something about the way she says his name tugs at some unknown part of him. “It’s just Vasco for tonight.”

“Maeve.”

“Maeve?”

“My first name,” she says, softly, revealing some secret part of her, something only he knows.

“I thought...”

“Most people do.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks even as she leans into him, pressing him back against the door, making it hard to think clearly.

“Vasco, I’ve wanted to do this for some time.”

“Why didn’t…”

“Why didn’t I proposition my Captain?” she scoffs at him. “You do realize that I’m older than you? And, you’re my superior officer?”

“I’m aware and neither stopped me from following you...”

“Yes, but you’re the one with all the power and advantages.”

She’s not wrong. Perhaps this is a mistake. It’s not exactly against any rules, but the guild certainly frowns on it. As a rule, he avoids getting involved with members of his crew, but her scent is intoxicating and the feel of her hands on his chest, warm and gently kneading his skin is breaking down his sense of better judgment.

“I would never use my position to take advantage of one of my crew. But it is a valid concern. Maybe…” he says, grasping her hands in his, stopping her from her ministrations.

She steps back, pulling her hands free, and lights the lantern hanging in the middle of the room, setting her hair ablaze in the warm light. “I’m not some naïve young sailor who isn’t quite sure. And I don’t have some childish crush on you. I know what I want, and this is me going after it,” she says, finally looking into his eyes.

Conversations with Kurt flit through his mind. Lovers, sharing his bed and his life with someone. It would be so easy with Coble, an intelligent and confident woman who is not afraid to speak her mind or tell him what she wants. “What do you want?” he asks softly, leaning against the door, one moment away from leaving.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how tonight goes.”

Reaching behind him, Vasco locks the door with an audible click and removes his coat, hanging it on a hook. He then slips his hat from his head and hangs it on the bedpost, a universal symbol among Nauts that he’s staying the night, if she’ll have him, watching how her smile enhances the curve of her face. She’s a strikingly alluring woman and he wonders how he missed seeing it all this time.

Kicking off his boots, he stands before her, almost even in height until she steps out of her own boots, and he finds himself looking slightly down into her eyes again. He begins to strip his shirt and pants off, watching intently as she disrobes fearlessly before him, revealing her own line of tattoos down her sides and wrapping around her back. She moves in close, the soft fuzz on her skin brushing against him in a way that sends chills up his spine.

Vasco feels her hands on his shoulders, turning him and pushing him toward the bed until he’s sitting at the edge with her climbing up and straddling his thighs, now towering over him, leaning into him, her hands sliding from his shoulders up around his neck, fingers spreading into his golden locks.

It’s been a while since he’s had a woman for a partner, but it all comes right back, the fleshiness of her thighs and stomach as she moves against him, the softness of her lips as she dips in for a kiss, a low moan in his throat as she slowly explores his mouth with her tongue, tasting of expensive spiced rum. He brings his hand up to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lip as he tilts her head to the side and kisses a trail up her neck and to her ear, taking the gold hoop into his mouth as he sucks gently on her lobe.

Sighing into his ear, she shifts against him, sending a heat through his middle. Reaching for her, he grabs her hips and snakes his hands up her back and into her hair, pulling her face to his, and he feels her tongue slide along his lip before she pulls it between hers, gently sucking, eliciting a soft moan against her mouth. When he feels her fingers run down the length of his sides, he twists, gently rolling her under his body on the bed.

“Maeve, I need to know, are you sure you still want to do this?”

“I need to do this…” she mutters between two gasping breaths, pulling him closer.

For a while after, Vasco lies awake with Coble draped across him sleeping, a blanket pulled up over them to ward off the cool draft blowing in from the sea. A spray of her dazzling ruby hair billows across his chest, coiled silken locks that his fingers find themselves entangled in falling over her pale shoulders.

Though he has shared a bed with his lovers before, rarely have they slept so close and intimately. He could count the number of times on one hand. This feels different. Even without knowing how she feels, he suddenly dreads the coming dawn, wishing they could stay like this. Cruel fate once again giving him hope and then ripping it away.

She’ll be gone for weeks. With that lecherous Captain Ruben. A feeling he has never experienced shoots through his middle, just thinking about him being close to her. He quickly realizes what he feels is jealousy. Ruben is not only taking his ship away, he’s also taking what may be the best thing that’s ever happened to him as well.

Coble may not feel the same, and that’s okay, but he wishes she could stay. Looking down at her, he brushes a hand over her cheek and strokes her hair. They are right at the beginning of something…and she has to leave at dawn. Tucking in close to her, he wraps his arms around her and lets sleep take him.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt glances back over his shoulder at Vasco, watching as he disappears through the door at the top of the stairs on someone’s heels. When the door closes behind him, the thought flashes in his mind that whoever he is, he better treat Vasco right, surprising himself. Other than Elizabeth, no one else has ever provoked such a visceral reaction in him. He suddenly realizes just how much the sailor means to him.

His concerns over the business with the crates is more than just his own guilt or responsibility. He genuinely cares about the sailor and wants to see him happy, and it occurs to him that he would not think twice about tearing a man apart if he laid a hand on him.

He glares over to where the three men from the bar sit sulking, one with a bloody rag held over his head and the one he had confronted holding a blood-soaked rag to his nose. The moment he saw the two of them grab him, Kurt was on his feet in an instant flying around the table and stepping between them. He had surely broken the one’s nose when he refused to back off and continued trying to make for Vasco.

Then that shot rang out and it was like time stopped, no one moving with that rifle ready to blow a man wide open. The look on the barkeep’s face, ale running down his nose and dripping onto the bar below him, as if daring them to try. Somehow, the Nauts just walked away, without holding grudges or seeking vengeance.

He watches as Elizabeth stands and approaches the barkeep, pulling several coins from her purse and sliding them across the bar. The man smiles and slides the coins into his own pocket, finally putting the gun back under the counter and going back to his business.

As she seats herself across from him, he smiles and asks, “Paying off more debts for your kith and kin?”

“Occupational hazard,” she replies with a shrug of her shoulders and a sly smile.

Kurt reaches across with his foot, under the table, grazing her boot, but she gives no reaction. A moment later, the Naut sitting beside her raises his brows at him. “Apologies,” Kurt stammers out quickly, a heat flooding his cheeks and his neck, watching as the man shrugs and turns back to his comrade.

Elizabeth gives him a questioning look and he shakes his head, instead reaching across the table and lightly grasping her slender fingers in his, wishing it could be as easy to take her upstairs as it seems to be for Vasco. He knows she left him an open invitation, and she’s waiting for him, but he must first let his past go before he can trust himself with her. Once he puts Hermann in a hole…

Leaning back, he pulls his hand away, watching the flicker in her eyes as her expression changes. He offers her a half-hearted smile and rises from his seat, turning and stepping outside for a moment for some fresh air. He leans against the wall, looking up at the stars, listening to the waves crashing against the dock nearby.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he jumps away before he realizes it’s Siora standing next to him, looking at him with concern.

“Carants, are you okay?”

“I thought de Sardet was your carants?” he asks with a sly smile.

“True, she was first. But you and Vasco are also my friends, Kurt.”

He nods and crosses his arms, leaning back again. “To answer your question, yes, I’m okay. I just needed some fresh air.”

“You are not worried about her, in there alone with all those sailors?”

Kurt thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head, replying “No, she’s safer in there than anywhere else on this island.”

“You sound very certain.”

“Vasco has a good crew. They would never let anything happen to her. Whatever you’ve heard about the Nauts, it may be true for some, but not them.”

“I see. Still, something bothers you,” she says, tilting her head at him.

“Nothing at all.”

“Whatever you say…” she replies as she turns and walks away in the direction of the city.

Heading back inside, he notices that only a few of the crew remain, finishing their drinks, and finds Elizabeth wishing everyone goodnight and promising to see them off in the morning.

Back outside, he remembers what Vasco had said before he disappeared. “Greenblood, I was supposed to let you know that Vasco won’t be home tonight.”

“Oh, I had already assumed as much. It was unmistakable the way he jumped over the tables…” she says, taking his arm and leading him away from the tavern and back towards the city.

“Before the fight?”

“How did you miss it? They were making eyes at each other all evening.”

Once they reach the city side, they pass a few coin guards who nod at him but otherwise ignore their presence.

“Who was he? Vasco never said.”

“He?” she asks with a laugh.

“She?”

She nods at him with a smirk. “That was why the fight started.”

“Coble?”

“Yes, Coble. Don’t tell me you don’t find her attractive, Kurt.”

“I…yes, she is an attractive woman, but I’m not attracted to her.”

“You’re rather adorable when you get flustered like that.”

“Adorable?” he asks, his cheeks tightening and flushed.

Once they pass through the gate, Kurt takes her hand and leads her to a wall hidden behind a tall hedge, his chest pressing her back against it and he grasps her face in his hands kissing her deeper than usual, leaving her breathless. He feels her hands rise to the top buckle on his coat and he grasps both of them in his pressing them against the wall above her shoulders, his chest heaving against hers.

With his hands on either side of her head, she ducks under his arm and strolls to the fountain, sitting on one side, lazily drawing invisible shapes on the surface of the water.

As he draws close to her, she mutters, “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

“You needn’t apologize for...”

“For pushing you? I think I do.”

“Greenblood,” he says, shaking his head, “it was my fault. I know I’m sending you mixed signals. One moment I’m kissing you and the next I’m pushing you away.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Maybe I should stop, or stay in the barracks.”

“No!” she exclaims, her voice rising. “I will take all the mixed signals you can throw at me before I’ll have you leave me.”

He softly hushes her, pulling her into his arms and stroking her hair as she presses her face into his chest. “I’m not leaving you,” he replies, feeling her relax in his arms at the words.

He should. It would be the best thing for her to have some distance from him and his trauma, but, unless she tells him to go, he knows he never will. He will never leave her side as long as he lives.

She suddenly shivers against him, the cool night air cutting through her jacket, chilling her even with his arms around her. Standing, he offers his hand and leads her to the door and inside. Checking on the fire and securing the gate, he then follows her up the stairs, watching the way her body moves as she climbs each step,

At her bedroom, he follows her in, closing the door softly behind him, then moving to the open bathroom, backing through his own door and watching her as he pushes it closed. In his own room, he quickly changes, pushing down his thoughts and desires, crawling into bed and pulling the blanket up over his head, blocking out the light.

Still unsure what to do about Elizabeth, at least one less worry is on his mind. Vasco may get hurt where Coble is concerned, but she is unlikely to do him physical harm. He may even be the one to break her heart. Vasco seems reluctant to give his heart away, to let himself love someone fully.

He wonders, not for the first time, if he might have felt that way about Elizabeth if not for Kurt being in the way. He definitely talked about her in a certain way that would imply as much. Of course he would have. Who could ever refuse her charms?

He also wonders, again not for the first time, if she would be better off with the sailor. She could be with someone her own age, someone of more consequence, someone who would look good on her arm. She would be able to get what she wants and needs from him whereas Kurt may never be able to be that for her. That realization stings and he knows it’s all true.

He tosses and turns for a long while before he finally settles into a restless sleep. He wakes several times in the night, confused at first, with the blanket over his head, blinding him to where he is or how much time has passed. By the time the sky begins to lighten, Kurt gives in and rises, crossing to the bathroom where he finds Elizabeth at the sink, wearing only her nightshirt.

She looks up at him with a warm smile, then follows his gaze suddenly realizing her state of dress. Quickly backing away, he stammers out an apology and closes his door, throwing on anything he can find and rushing downstairs to the dining room, tucking himself into a chair with his head on the table.

After some time, he hears her familiar steps crossing the sitting room with Siora close behind her and they seat themselves on the opposite side of the table.

“What is the matter, Carants? Too much drink last night?” Siora asks earnestly.

Without looking up, Kurt nods his head, still pressed against the table. He feels a boot nudge his and chances a look at Elizabeth’s face, looking neither sly nor amused.

After a quick breakfast, they leave the house headed back to the port, arriving just in time to meet Captain Ruben before he boards the ship. Kurt watches the man carefully. He wears a bandana around his head, holding his stringy brown hair out of his face. His brown eyes dart around furtively, as if trying to avoid looking at any one person for too long.

Just as Kurt spots Vasco and Coble headed their way, arms locked together, Ruben quickly excuses himself, climbing the gangplank and getting to work. Vasco eyes the man warily the entire distance from the bunkhouse to the port.

“I’ll see you soon…” Vasco mutters softly to Coble, looking like he’s waiting for her to make a move.

She nods and wraps her arms around him, pulling back to kiss him, then whispering, “I’ll be back on the tide.”

Vasco releases her with a sigh, letting her take her duffle from his shoulder, and watching as she backs away, climbing up the gangplank before she turns and boards.

Elizabeth waves to Jonas and, looking at Kurt, pulls Siora away with her nodding in Vasco’s direction as the two of them head back home leaving Kurt and Vasco behind.

“You okay, Sailor?”

“Fine.”

A bald-faced lie and they both know it. He never looked at Constantin the way he’s looking at Coble. Maybe he’s finally met his match.

“Out with it.”

“Nothing to tell,” he replies, shaking his head.

“I’m not asking for intimate details, but there’s something there. And you’re in pain.”

“Kurt, just let me be.”

He scoffs, but gently and smirks at his back. “Like you did when I asked?”

“That was different,” Vasco replies without turning to look at him.

“Oh was it now? Why? Because you don’t like being on the receiving end?”

“Look, I just want to be alone.”

Vasco is going nowhere so long as the ship is still in sight and Kurt is not giving up so easy. “Is this about your ship or is this about Coble?” he asks gently, watching him closely.

Finally turning in his direction for a moment, Vasco’s eyes narrow and his voice rises in anger. “Damn, Soldier, you just don’t give up, do you?”

“No easier than Naut Captains anyway.”

“Yes, the thought of watching him sail away on my ship…if I could drag him to the railing and toss him overboard…”

Kurt snorts and places a hand on his shoulder, giving a squeeze. “I wouldn’t blame you. The man seems about as trustworthy with a ship as Constantin. But you can trust your crew.”

He nods slowly. “I know. You’re right. They’re a good crew.”

“Now, you ready to talk to me?”

“Can it wait for the walk home?” he asks, turning back to the ship and obviously scanning the deck for a certain red-headed navigator.

“Sure, Sailor.”

He stands next to him, waiting, as Vasco watches the all too familiar boarding and embarking procedures, counting the crew and raising anchor, hoisting the sails, Coble glancing back at him occasionally. They stand almost shoulder to shoulder watching as the ship finally pulls away, growing smaller until it becomes nothing more than a dot on the horizon and Vasco runs to the edge of the dock, purging over the side, Kurt gently squeezing his shoulder until he’s done.

Turning and wiping his hand across his mouth, Vasco sits in a heap on the dock. “I told you why I never tried to have a relationship before. The thought of leaving someone behind is unbearable. Well, as it turns out, it’s nothing compared to being the one left behind.”

“Vasco…”

“Look, I know it’s not the same as what you and de Sardet have. You’ve loved each other for longer than I’ve even known Coble. And I’m not stupid. I don’t know what we have, but the word love never entered the equation.”

His shoulders drop and he crouches before the man, his hand on his knee. “Whether you love her or not, I can see that you care deeply about her.”

“I find myself at the beginning of something I’ve never wanted so much before. And now she’s just gone, Kurt,” he mutters, barely able to look him in the eye.

“I can’t say I understand the feeling exactly, but I do know what it’s like to be afraid to lose someone…”

“I know you do.”

“How long until they return?”

“No idea,” he replies, shaking his head. “They left for San Matheus, and we’ll be leaving in the opposite direction. Then they’ll be headed for Hikmet after we’ve already left.”

“Then they’ll return to the port here?”

He nods.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. A few weeks maybe?”

“At most.”

“But I understand. If she were still here, you would be able to explore whatever it is you do have. And you’re afraid that when she gets back, she’ll have moved on.”

“Help me up?”

Kurt reaches down and grips his forearm, tugging him to his feet. “If she can’t wait for you, Vasco, then maybe she’s not who you thought she was.”

“I didn’t ask her to wait for me. I didn’t think it would be right after one night.”

“Even so.”

They walk quietly past the Naut warehouses and through the arch, following the now familiar paths back to the house. Before they step inside, Vasco reaches out and grabs Kurt’s arm gently, trying to form words but nothing comes out.

Kurt reaches out and pulls him into a hug, feeling his arms hesitantly wrap around his shoulders. In truth, he usually hates these moments, his anxiety taking over and telling him not to let a man this close, but he trusts Vasco almost as much as he trusts Elizabeth. Perhaps more in some ways.

He releases him and claps him on his shoulders, turning and stepping inside, watching as Vasco climbs the stairs without looking back. From the sofa, Elizabeth looks at him with a worried expression. He sits next to her and shrugs his shoulders because neither of them is going to be of much help to the man for the time being. These are feelings and thoughts he has to work through on his own until they’re together again.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

With Vasco sleeping on one side and Siora on the other, Kurt and Elizabeth are packed tightly in the middle in the back of the caravan on the road to Hikmet. They’ve been sleeping off and on since leaving that afternoon after seeing the Sea Horse off in the port earlier in the morning. At this point, he is wide awake and unable to go back to sleep, his thoughts rumbling loudly in his head.

Unable to stop thinking about Reiner, Kurt often wakes from horrible dreams. Sometimes Hermann is there, in this ghost camp, torturing Reiner and other faceless recruits, using and abusing them. Sometimes he is one of the men beating Reiner to death, unable to stop himself. But they always end with him waking in the dark, covered in sweat, nauseated and restless.

Not knowing exactly what he suffered through, the what ifs eat him up. Reiner was beaten mercilessly. Repeatedly. But Kurt has no idea what other horrors he suffered or at whose hands. It keeps him awake at night. Wears on his mind most of the day.

Except when he’s with Elizabeth. Then an entirely different worry takes over his thoughts. Intrusive thoughts that tell him he should walk away. That she deserves better, despite what she says. And he wonders if he will ever be able to confront his past and move on.

There is nothing he would not give or would not do for her. Glancing over at her, wedged between him and Siora, pressed against his side, he suddenly gasps as she shifts on her bedroll and her arm slips over his chest. He lightly lifts her arm and places it next to her, unintentionally waking her.

“Kurt? Is anything the matter?” she asks as she yawns and stretches, looking up at him softly.

“No, go back to sleep.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. How are you?”

“Greenblood,” he replies with a gently shake of his head, “I don’t know what to do with this. It’s my fault Reiner’s dead. I don’t know why I took him out of his home and put him on this path.”

Pulling herself up next to him, she places a hand on his arm, looking into his eyes. “Because you saw in him all the qualities that should make for a respectable soldier. If you want to weed out the corrupt and rebuild the Guard, you’ll need more young men like him.”

“I believe my recruiting days are done. I only hope that getting you involved won’t lead to another mess like last time.”

“You have to stop blaming yourself. None of this is your fault.”

“She’s right,” Vasco says from behind him, rubbing his eyes and pulling himself into a seated position.

Elizabeth quickly lights the small lamp she wears on her belt, softly illuminating the space around them. “See?”

He hears their words, and he knows he would be telling them the same if their positions were reversed, but it does no good. The only thing that might help ease his mind is finding the camp and putting an end to it. He nods and reclines against the pack at his back, dropping the subject for now.

When the caravan slows to a stop, he grabs the packs and climbs out, taking Elizabeth’s hand as she steps down to the ground with a small jump, taking her pack from his shoulder. He hands off the other packs to Siora and Vasco and follows along as they approach the gate to the Hikmet outpost.

The guard puts out his hand and says, “Halt! State your business,” in an oppressive tone.

“I am the emissary to the Governor of New Serene, here on his behest to speak with the Governor of Hikmet.”

She shows the man her papers which he quickly checks under a lamp and ushers her through.

With the sky steadily darkening, very few soldiers are moving about the encampment. Kurt notices a few men in inside a mess hall, some movement around the tents that are set up behind a nearby fence. The outpost, Hikmet’s first line of defense, is left mostly unguarded.

Following the path through the outpost leads them to the top of a long hill, on a path that looks to lead all the way to the city gates at the bottom. From this vantage, they can see the palace looming over the rest of the city. On either side of the path, they pass by fields where a few farms seem to operate, most likely providing goods for the city, produce and dairy, perhaps even fresh meat.

At the gates, they find themselves stopped once again by two guards. They step up and one of them puts out a hand blocking their passage. "Halt! Your names, titles and business at hand."

Elizabeth pulls out her papers again, showing the men their credentials with the Governor’s signature and seal at the bottom.

"I am Lady de Sardet, Emissary of the Congregation of Merchants on Teer Fradee. I have come to present our regards to your Governor."

Nodding and passing the pages back, he replies, "Your papers seem to be in order. Welcome to Hikmet, your Excellency."

Kurt watches as the two men step aside but give Siora a sideways glance as they pass. In fact, though few people are out at this time of night, those who are all stare at her in surprise.

~Vasco~

Vasco has been to the port of Hikmet only a handful of times and never ventured beyond the domain of the Nauts. When they enter the city, he gets his first glimpse as they pass down a covered street where vendors sell wares, coming to a street that opens to a square surrounded by many buildings and a set of stairs that lead up to the palace which rises over the city itself. The architecture is quite different from anything Vasco has seen before. Nearly every building sports corbel arches and several have domes as well, the windows covered with lattice designs.

With the day growing late, Elizabeth gives him a look that tells him she has decided to put off seeing the Governor until morning. Instead, she leads them down a side street. They follow the map from Madam Clerc showing where to find this Ferhat who supposedly knows the whereabouts of his brother, Bastien. The location seems to be in the northern area of the city, so they start off in that direction. After passing under a covered alleyway, they emerge near the green door of a house on the corner.

She knocks and a man in a blue turban and kaftan greets her, a mortar and pestle in his hands, some dried herb inside ground to a fine powder. Surrounded by a mess of dry leaves spread out over the floor, he says nothing but gives her a quizzical look.

“I’m looking for a man named Ferhat.”

"You will find him upstairs,” he says with a low groan, nodding towards the stairs.

The stairs take them to a sort of business office with a large desk covered in books on one side and a small table with a large globe in the center of the room. Against the wall opposite the windows is a long table covered in plants, some drying on a cord overhead. In front of the desk stands a man in a rather fashionable brown hat with an elegant white feather on one side who Vasco assumes must be the man they are looking for.

"Are you Mr. Ferhat?” Elizabeth asks from beside him.

"What can I do for you?"

“We’re looking for Mr. d’Arcy.”

“He was here recently, madam, but I I don't know where he is. And if I did…”

Vasco knows he should let her handle this, but his concern is growing. “If you did?” he snaps at the man.

“He owes me money. A lot of money.”

Elizabeth gives him a quick look and takes control again., softly asking, "How so?"

“He was here to accept a shipment, a large shipment, in exchange for a large sum of gold.”

“What happened?”

“He never produced payment. He gave me several excuses but no gold.”

“Why would you let him take the merchandise without paying?” she asks incredulously, sparing a glance over at Vasco.

“He is a d’Arcy after all, they’re well-known and very wealthy. Why would I doubt his ability to pay?”

“Could something have happened to him?”

"I would doubt that very much. But I still have no idea where he is, so, if you’re not here to settle his debt or arrange a deal, leave me to my work.”

Elizabeth leads them out of the room and down the stairs where they see a letter lying on a desk out in the open. She lifts it and takes a look at it, passing it to Vasco who quickly reads it before placing it in Kurt’s outstretched hand. As Kurt reads it, Vasco gets an uneasy feeling about Bastien’s fate. The letter is from a friend of Mr. Ferhat and suggests that he should look into some shady debt collectors to get his payment.

Quickly moving back upstairs, they once again interrupt Ferhat, this time with no attempt at being subtle.

“You again? I already explained that I do not know where Bastien is.”

Kurt passes the letter to Vasco who steps forward, thrusting it into the man’s hand. "You may not know where he is," Vasco says angrily, "but that didn’t stop you from sending the wolves to find him.”

"How dare you rummage through my belongings!"

“Sir, you could have taken legal action, but you sent a bunch of cutthroats after him instead!” Vasco replies, with venom this time.

Elizabeth looks first at Vasco, "I wonder if the Governor would approve?" Now she looks back at Ferhat, asking, "Do you want us to tell him about it?"

The man appears unfazed but begins to spill the entire story anyway. “It could take months to get a reply, let alone any kind of recompense. I had no other choice.”

“Where can we find these vultures?” Vasco demands of the man, his arms crossed over his chest.

“They have a hidden alcove not far from here. It’s down an alley off of the main square,” he replies, pointing to the west.

“We better hurry and find them if we’ve any hope to find him alive…”

"If you find him alive, remind him of what he owes me!"

Vasco nearly pushes the man back, but he looks at Elizabeth and stops himself. The last thing she needs is to be explaining to the Governor why her guard, her Naut guard at that, assaulted one of the merchants in his city.

As they descend the stairs and exit through the door, they turn left and follow in the direction Ferhat indicated, watching for any hidden areas where they might find these people, and, hopefully Bastien as well.

Approaching an opening in an alleyway, they overhear someone pleading and decide to investigate. Through a series of turns through a mazelike corridor, they finally come out into a small courtyard enclosed by a tall fence on all sides. Hidden out of sight, a rough looking woman and man threaten a finely dressed younger man who appears to be nobility.

“This is an outrage! It’s nothing more than a horrible misunderstanding!"

Vasco quickly steps in to stop them. "Leave this man alone!"

The man looks him up and down and then, with a smirk says, “This doesn’t concern you, Lubber! Keep walking!”

Vasco has heard the term before, but never directed at himself. Immediately, his hackles are up, his usually calm and collected demeanor shaken as he jumps into the man’s face, his voice rising. "You think I'm afraid? I’ve fought tougher and stronger men than you,” Vasco replies, his hand on the grip of his saber.

From beside them, Elizabeth steps up, placing a hand over Vasco’s. "Vasco, let me try to take care of this...” Turning to the two malefactors, she asks, “How much money are we talking about? You are here to collect a debt, right?"

"Between what he owes our client and our commission, it's a hefty sum! But if you want to pay in his stead, my lady, please do!" she says, handing a paper to Elizabeth who shoots a look at Bastien shaking her head.

She digs into her pouch taking out a handful of coins and depositing them into the hand of the woman. "Here, this should more than cover it. Take it and leave!"

“Gladly, my lady. It was a pleasure!”

"I hope I never cross paths with you again!" Vasco calls out as they walk away, disappearing behind the walls and into the alleyway.

“Thank you for your assistance. I had no idea that such an unsavory element was allowed to operate in Hikmet!”

“How did you end up in such a situation?" Elizabeth asks.

“I must admit that the game tables are quite the temptation. I lost the money I owed to the merchant and then some. They took the shipment as collateral until I can come up with the money I owe.”

“How much?”

“I’ve already sent a message to my father. If they could have waited…”

Elizabeth reaches into her pouch and pulls out a few more coins, pressing them into Bastien’s hand. “Take this. And try not to gamble it away…”

“And to whom do I owe my gratitude?” he asks, looking at Elizabeth.

“My name is Lady de Sardet.”

His eyes widen and he gasps softly, bowing his head reverently. “Niece of the Prince, I know who you are. My father dislikes the man for some reason unbeknownst to me, and despite the fact that his patronage has granted our family great success over the years. In fact, we brought over most of the furnishings to New Serene for the Congregation manor and the palace.”

“I was informed of that, yes.”

He looks at Vasco for a moment, “And you are?”

“Captain Vasco. Naut and sea-given. It was a pleasure.”

“My apologies for those brutes, for their rudeness to you.”

Vasco waves him off and says nothing more, watching as the man turns to Kurt and nods his head in a respectful way before walking away and vanishing out of sight. Once he is sure that Bastien is gone, he turns to Elizabeth and says, "Thank you, de Sardet for what you did for Bastien."

“My pleasure. Did meeting him help at all?”

“It was not exactly what I had hoped for. I suppose I had some naïve hope for an emotional reunion, that it would somehow answer all of my questions.”

“I’m sorry it was disappointing, Vasco,” she says, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder.

He waves the comment off. “Thank you all for being there while I’ve tried to work through my doubts and find myself again.”

"Why didn't you tell him who you were?

"I did tell him,” he replies, and, despite his chagrin, he gives her a warm smile, reaching up and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I always resented the fact that I was given to the Nauts. Always questioned why and thought I deserved the life that I was denied. But now, I’ve finally realized that I am exactly who I want to be. I’m a Naut. A Captain. And a proud one at that.”

"I am happy to hear it. So, no more regrets?"

"No more regrets. And I certainly don't regret not being called Léandre d'Arcy…"

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Leaving the hidden courtyard, Elizabeth turns to the left, leading them through a few twists and turns until they find themselves back in the main square. Across the way, she spots the Merchant Congregation banner hanging next to a door with the seal. The others follow as she walks up and knocks gently on the door.

After a long moment, the door opens, their eyes drawn up to the face of a middle-aged man with graying hair and dark eyes.

“May I help you?”

“I am Lady de Sardet, Legate to the Congregation, on business from New Serene,” she replies, showing him her papers marked with the seal.

He waves them inside and greets them, “Welcome, I am Arafam. I could have the staff prepare a meal? Or simply see you to your rooms?”

Elizabeth looks around at the others before turning back to the man, politely accepting. “A quick meal would be perfect. We were on the road most of the day.”

He steps back and rings a bell next to the dining room door which is immediately answered by a woman in an apron who exchanges a few words with him before disappearing with a nod and a bow. “Follow me. I will show you to your rooms while a light supper is prepared.”

With her pack slung over her shoulder, she follows the man up the stairs, taking the first room, watching as Kurt takes the adjacent room, one shared wall between them. Inside her accommodations, she finds a basin with fresh water and begins to clean up a little. The streets of Hikmet are dusty and she feels it clinging to her skin.

Back in the hall, she requests a bath be ready in the morning so she can clean up properly before meeting with Burhan, handing off a suit from her pack to be pressed as well. Kurt looks at her in that way of his that always makes her feel slightly ashamed, defensive. “Kurt, I’m meeting the Governor in the morning. I’m representing Constantin. I have to look the part. You said so yourself.”

“That I did, Greenblood. And from what I’ve heard, he is as sly as a fox and as slippery as an eel. You’re right to play your part.”

She relaxes and takes the stairs down to the sitting room with Kurt close on her heels, taking a seat near the fireplace, waiting for the others. Under his steady gaze from his seat in the chair across from her, the nervousness she had been feeling at meeting this Burhan subsides some. She stops worrying the birthmark on her cheek and lets her hands rest in her lap.

“You’re worried about what he’ll think of that, aren’t you?” he asks, gesturing at the mark on her face.

“How can I not be? It’s obviously associated with the natives, and they have a very tenuous relationship with the Bridge Alliance. I’m only now realizing that I’m at a disadvantage with both of our allies on this island.”

“I know you know more about dignitaries than I do, but, speaking as a man, he will expect you to appear weak and submissive. Don’t. Stand tall and fall back on your training. You’re nobility, don’t let him forget that.”

She nods, understanding his meaning. Men like Burhan think themselves superior to women and they will seize control if allowed. She must keep the upper hand, assert herself, keep him on his guard and pretend that the mark on her face is nothing to her.

About the time Siora and Vasco finally make it down, the cook rings the bell calling them to the table where she has laid out a spread before them. They drink some kind of dark and spiced wine and eat unfamiliar but savory and spicy foods, carrying on light conversation until late into the night.

By the time the food and drink is gone, they stumble back up to their rooms, slightly drunk on the heady wine and Elizabeth finds herself drifting immediately into sleep when her head hits her pillow. Awoken early the next morning by a knock, Arafam greets her when she opens the door.

“I have had the bath filled, milady,” he says softly, gesturing at the open door before disappearing back down the stairs.

Elizabeth, just managing to nod thanks to him before he is gone, crosses the hall, finding her freshly pressed suit hanging on the back of the door and everything she needs already laid out near the tub. After a quick, but peaceful bath, she dresses and leaves her hair down to dry, rushing downstairs to find everyone else seated at the table waiting.

The breakfast is almost as savory and spicy as their dinner the night before, served with some exotic juice she’s never had before. When the conversation lulls, Siora places a hand on her arm and mutters, "You...you should go and meet this governor without me. Our peoples are at war. I am not sure of how I might react in his presence…”

Kurt looks at her from across the table nodding. “Siora is not wrong. You are here to impress and charm this man. Vasco and I will watch your back.”

“We Nauts rarely bow down, but I will try not to repeat last night’s behavior.”

“Vasco, stop apologizing for that. We weren’t before a dignitary, and I know you would have acted accordingly if we were.”

“Greenblood, just remember what I told you. Burhan may be a scholar, but he is also a politician. His words covered in honey, but as dangerous as my weapons."

“I’ll be cautious, Kurt,” she replies softly, a warmth tugging at her chest.

She wants nothing more than to feel his arms around her, to melt into his embrace, but they are in a foreign city, under heavy scrutiny, and the risk is far too great. She looks forward to the short respite once they return to New Serene before setting back out for San Matheus.

Excusing herself, she returns to her room, taking her hair, now only slightly damp, and putting it back up into the proper braid she has grown to hate. She puts on her noble face, cold, indifferent, her voice haughty and detached as she practices her greeting.

Shaking it off and stepping through her door, she runs into Kurt who backs to the other side of the hall, leaning against the wall, mouth open to speak but no words forming. Only his eyes speak to her and she is in his arms before she even realizes she has moved. Her hands are on the sides of his face, feeling that sharp stubble against her palms, her lips brushing softly against his.

From below, they hear Vasco call up and she takes a quick step back, straightening her jacket, receiving a nod from Kurt before she descends the stairs, passing Siora relaxing on the sofa as the three of them step outside into the morning light. Turning to her left, she leads them into the square. The opposite side ends in stairs that lead to the palace and they take them up to the doors, again showing her papers before they’re allowed to pass through.

Inside, the palace looks almost identical to the one in New Serene. The long hall, the large staircase, all marble and iron. The court itself also very similar, except decorated in the green and gold of Al Saad. She notices that instead of chairs or benches, pillows litter the floor, several attendees seated on them around the room. And the Bridge Alliance seal hangs over Governor Burhan's throne.

As she draws closer to the throne, the man eyes her with scrutiny, no doubt considering the meaning of the mark on her cheek. Remembering Kurt’s words, she ignores his look, forgetting about the mark and standing tall. Summoning up every last bit of nobility she faces him proudly, not giving an inch.

~Kurt~

Kurt eyes Burhan warily, watching the way he sizes Elizabeth up. Unlike most people who stand when they meet her and show respect, he stays seated, displaying his sense of self-importance. These Bridge scientists and alchemists all think themselves intellectually superior to the rest of the world, but they are blinded by their own conceit.

In spite of that, they have made no headway with a cure for the malichor, though the man is hesitant to admit it, dancing around the subject with his pretty words. On top of that, their hired guards seem to have lost an entire group of scientists on expedition into the wild lands of the island.

Unimpressed, Kurt stops paying attention to the rest of the conversation, instead watching Elizabeth in his peripheral vision from his place behind her and to her left. Always on guard. Always at the ready.

When she finally turns and glances at him with a certain softness, he chokes down a smile and follows her back out into the hall and out of the palace before he reaches out and softly grasps her arm in his hand. Quickly darting his eyes around at the passersby, he pulls his hand back to his side as she turns to face him in the middle of the square.

For a moment she opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates, nodding in the direction of the embassy, leading them back that way. Once they step through the door, she sinks wearily into the sofa next to Siora watching Kurt as he sits across from her in one of the chairs while Vasco takes the one closer to the fire.

“You did well, Greenblood. Burhan sized you up today and, no doubt, he now realizes you are no pushover. He’ll need more than honeyed words to get what he wants.”

“He is no different from his counterpart back in Serene. They are blinded by their science, forgetting their humanity.”

“It’s still rather early, carants. If you are finished with your business here, should we leave now?”

“We may as well,” she answers with a nod and rises from the sofa.

Upstairs, they all quickly pack and return downstairs thanking Arafam for his hospitality and slipping through the door and quietly leaving the city. As they pass through the gates, Kurt watches again as the guards give Siora a certain look, but they say nothing.

Continuing up the hill, once they reach the outpost, he notes that morning reveals no greater presence of soldiers there. All the fighting Hikmet is doing with the natives is taking a toll on their ability to defend the city. No wonder he has no one to send to look for the expedition.

On the far side of the outpost, they hire a caravan to take them back to New Serene, all piling into the back with their bedrolls laid out and their packs at their backs.

Vasco digs out a deck of cards from his pack, Kurt looking at him in disbelief that he wasted pack space for that. “Cards?”

“You never know when you might have to kill some time. Are you playing or not?”

“Fine. At least Constantin isn’t here to win every hand.”

For a while they play ordinary card games, but, by afternoon, they’ve grown restless. After making a quick meal of their rations, Vasco suggests they play a new game, making copper wagers. Kurt is hesitant at first, coppers add up on a soldier’s pay, but when Elizabeth shows an interest, he relents.

Siora decides to sleep the rest of the way, but Elizabeth and Kurt pull out a few coins from their pouches, Elizabeth lighting her portable lamp under the darkening cover of the caravan. Though they each win a hand now and then, it turns out that Vasco is quite skilled like Constantin, and by the last hand, he has most of the coins on his side of the floor where he deals the cards.

“This is the last hand for me,” Kurt says, defeated.

Elizabeth, out of coppers herself, pulls one gold coin from her pouch and flips it into the middle. “That’s it. Let’s see what you have, Vasco.”

Vasco lays out his cards as she lays out her own. When Kurt sees she has beaten Vasco’s hand, he simply lays his cards face down on the floor, giving her the win.

“Kurt?” she asks, grabbing his cards and flipping them over. “Congratulations,” she says, pushing the coins towards him, the gold piece shining on top.

He picks it up, trying to pass it back to her. “I can’t take this, Greenblood.”

“You can and you will. You won it. Fairly.”

He nods and slips it into his pouch, the one gold coin rattling around among the silver and copper pieces, looking at Vasco who gives him a sly grin as he picks up the cards, shoving them into a small bag and back into his pack.

The caravan hits the bridge crossing the harbor with a clacking sound, the wheels rhythmically rolling over the wood planks below, signaling their arrival back in New Serene. As they get close to the other end of the bridge, the rhythm slows until they stop and the caravan passes onto the softer ground on the other side, coming to a stop.

Again, Kurt climbs out first, taking Elizabeth’s hand and then Siora’s, Vasco easily stepping down to the ground on his own. Taking their pack, they pass through the gate, down the darkened street, by the cooled forge, and past the statue of the prince in the square. Kurt opens the large iron gates to the house, closing and latching it behind them before following to the front door and inside.

Juliet appears before them in the dining room door with a relieved smile. “Madam, would you like a late supper?”

“That would be perfect, Juliet, thank you,” she replies, sinking into the sofa near the fire.

Vasco and Siora take the chairs, looking at him slyly as he seats himself next to Elizabeth on the sofa. “Will you see Constantin in the morning?”

“No. I would like to get this trip over with. We will set out first thing tomorrow, arrive in San Matheus by nightfall, and see the governor the following morning.”

“As you wish, Greenblood,” he replies softly, relishing the warmth of her arm and her leg almost grazing his.

They sit in silence for a while, Kurt thinking about that gold coin now in his pouch, mingling with common copper pieces. Looking at Elizabeth, he feels common next to her. Even next to Vasco and Siora. One a Naut Captain and the other the daughter of a chief. And what is he? Just the bastard of some soldiers no one knows. No one. Nothing.

Why she wants him, he’ll never know. He’ll never match her grace or her importance. Few would approve of a match between them. Perhaps not even Constantin. Kurt has his respect, but his cousin has his devotion. And the prince, he has never been privy to his whims, but there is no doubt he would cross the sea and drag Kurt back to Serene himself if he had even the slightest idea of what was happening. A sickening thought occurs to him then that the two cousins might be intended for each other one day. Without their knowledge. Without their consent.

Standing, he crosses and stokes the fire with his back to the others, his face obscured, unable to betray his emotions. Replacing the iron, he grips the mantle with both hands, nails digging into the wood. Dinner is announced just in time, and he follows the rest of them to the dining table, taking his usual seat next to Vasco and across from Elizabeth.

She may have missed his expression before, but she glances at him now with a curiosity he can feel prickling his skin. Looking down at his hands, he tries to rein in his apprehension, keep it to himself. A boot grazing his brings him a little peace, the beginning of a smile on his lips when he looks up at her face, a slight tilt of his head sending her the message that everything is fine.

While the others eat, Kurt stabs at his food and only takes a few disinterested bites before saying goodnight and excusing himself. He replaces the gate in front of the fireplace as he passes through the sitting room and to the stairs. When he passes her door, he places his hand on the cool and reassuring wood for a moment before continuing on to his own room.

Inside, he quickly cleans up in the bathroom, changing into fresh clothes, clean and without dust and sweat, dropping the old ones down the laundry chute. Just as he is about to climb into bed, preparing for a night of restless sleep, a knock at his door detours him.

When he turns the handle and lets the door slip open heavily, he is greeted by her face, worry written across it plainly. “Kurt…may I come in?”

Darting his eyes around the darkened room, he stalls while trying to come up with a good reason to say no without causing her pain. “I, uh…” he stammers, nodding and moving aside to let her in.

Kurt watches as Elizabeth steps around him, glancing around, casually exploring his room without being intrusive. Running her fingers over the carved surface of the wardrobe, she then trails her hand over the back of the chair at his desk. She steps up to the tall glass door at the balcony, looking out and away from him.

“Is everything really alright?” she asks with her back still turned.

Against his better judgment, Kurt softly closes the door, drawing closer to her, not quite bringing her within reach, but close enough. The truth is everything is not alright but…“It will be” he replies reassuringly, leaning back against the post at the end of his bed, arms crossed over his chest.

Finally, she turns back to look at him, taking a few steps closer, leaving him nowhere to go when she places her hands on either side of his face, leaning in and softly kissing his neck right where it meets his jaw. His arms fall to his side, and he tries to stifle it, but a soft moan escapes his throat. It takes all of his willpower not to lift her in his arms and carry her to his bed. Instead, he slips his hands behind his back, grasping the post tightly.

“Goodnight,” Elizabeth whispers into the quiet room, stepping through his door into the bathroom and closing it behind her.

He sinks into the mattress and drags himself into bed, wishing he had told her how proud of her he was that morning. She walks a delicate line of showing strength and intellect while still carrying herself with a charming sense of grace. Burhan might have thought her someone he could use and manipulate, but he knows better now.

Pulling the blanket over his head, he is quickly nodding off and sleep soon takes him. Though he tosses and turns through the night, he wakes in the morning feeling slightly better, throwing the blanket down and letting in the first light of day.

This time, he knocks on the bathroom door softly before entering. Inside, he glances through her open door to her bed where he can see her shape on the bed, under the red linen. Trimming his stubble and cleaning up, he escapes back to his room, dressing quickly and ducking downstairs.

Catching Abigail in the sitting room, she passes him a note from Manfred asking that he come at his earliest convenience. Kurt explains that he has to check in at the barracks and will be back soon.

Outside, it is still rather dim, the manor courtyard tucked in between the palace and some of the stores along the shopping district. Kurt makes his way quickly across the city to the barracks, pulling Manfred into his office. “What is this about?”

Hesitating at first, he finally stammers, “You told me to inform you if anything happened. The weapons are suddenly missing.”

“Missing? All of them or just the ones from the crates?”

“The ones from the crates.”

“Was there anything strange about the correspondence around them?” Kurt asks, leaning against the small bookcase behind him crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, not really. Except…the Commander’s instructions were sort of odd.”

“In what way?”

Manfred leans in closer despite the fact they are alone in his office, speaking low, “They were to be divided up into three separate crates and stored. But not in the armory. And now all three of those crates are missing from the storeroom.”

Kurt never asked what, specifically Torsten had planned for the weapons after the crates were in their possession. In hindsight, he realizes he should have asked. This changes everything. The weapons are obviously not intended for use by the guards, not in their normal capacity at any rate, or they would be stored in the armory with the rest of the weapons on hand. What could Torsten have planned?

“Well, I suppose that at least eliminates the possibility of the Nauts finding them, but it is strange. Stay vigilant and quiet about it. Let me know if there are any new developments.”

“Should we try telling someone?” he asks, his voice heavy with trepidation.

“Who would we go to? As long as Torsten is in charge, other officers are deep in his pockets, and we still don’t know who is involved in this silver coin business, we trust no one. And we keep Sieglinde out of this for now. I don’t want Torsten to have a single justification for pushing her out.”

Manfred nods, his brows furrowed, muttering, “Sure, Kurt.”

He gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping out of his office and leaving the barracks, passing down the high street, his hand grazing the iron bars as Elizabeth’s had not so long ago in the darkened and empty street that night. Shaking off the memory, he crosses back to the gate and to the house, stepping through the door.

Following the alluring scent of freshly baked biscuits and the sound of infectious laughter to the dining room, Kurt takes his usual place across from Elizabeth, flashing her a warm smile. Either he succeeds at masking his worries, or she is masking her own because she returns the smile, her foot brushing lightly and comfortingly against his under the table.

Once they’ve all returned to their rooms and packed and are out the door, they pass back through the city. This time they take the high street, turning toward the barracks for just a moment, Kurt’s mind wandering to the conversation he had with Manfred as they pass. Leaving by the north gate, Elizabeth quickly hires the caravan to take them to San Matheus and they all pack into the back, again spreading out their bedrolls and tossing their packs behind them, settling in for the long trip. It seems none of them slept particularly well the night before, because they all sleep intermittently on the way.

Kurt watches Elizabeth sleeping, her head on his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye, his heart telling him he should open up to her about the business with the crates, his mind saying no, the less she knows the better. Keeping her in the dark, knowing the possible outcome of not telling her, turns his stomach, but if the options are between protecting her and risking her anger, it is a simple choice to make.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

When the caravan stops abruptly, Elizabeth wakes, her head rising slowly from Kurt’s shoulder, his eyes focused intently on her face. He lifts both their packs from the floor and climbs down, reaching up for her with a look she cannot quite place. With a sly smile, she places a hand on each of his shoulders, hopping down, leaving him to put his hands around her waist and help lower her to the ground.

‘Thank you, Kurt,” she says sweetly, taking her pack from his shoulder and turning towards the outpost with the others following close behind before he can respond, quickly lighting the small lamp at her waist to light the way.

When they get closer, a guard stops them and Elizabeth shows her papers, getting quite accustomed to the routine. The number of guards on duty and milling around outnumber those in the Hikmet outpost at least two to one. Most likely as a result of their constant warring with the natives. The battle where Siora’s mother died springs to mind, and she looks at her over her shoulder.

As they pass through the outpost to the other side, the road opens to a large expanse of grassy terrain enclosed on all sides by steep cliffs. As they follow the path down toward the city, they pass a few people tending small farms. Beyond the farms on either side of the bridge that leads to the gate is a water filled channel.

Looking over her other shoulder at Kurt, Elizabeth can tell that he is doing the mental calculations of the city’s defenses. Always the guard, measuring and weighing the odds.

When they reach the city gate, she already has her papers in her hand held out towards the guards before they even stop them.

"Halt! In the name of the Enlightened One, present yourself!"

Already weary from travel and the constant presentations, she simply answers, “I am here to present my regards to your Governor.”

After they wave her through, Elizabeth follows the street directly ahead until a light tug on her jacket sleeve has her turning left, looking at Kurt just in time to spot the Merchant Congregation seal on an iron gate leading to a large building. Behind the fence, she sees the Congregation shield hanging next to the door.

Upon knocking, a bubbly woman with bright blue eyes and bouncy gold hair answers the door ushering them inside and out of the darkened street. “You’re the prince’s niece! Welcome milady. I’m Marlette, head of the staff here. Let’s get you settled first.”

Inside the place is almost identical to the embassy in Hikmet, decorated in the Congregations colors of blue and silver. They follow the woman upstairs, Elizabeth receiving the master suite as usual with Kurt taking the nearest adjacent room.

After cleaning up a little, Elizabeth makes her way downstairs and bumps into Marlette who is busy stoking the fire.

“Oh, pardon milady. Can I do anything for you? Get you some supper perhaps?”

“No, I believe we will explore the city a bit tonight, but I would appreciate if I could have a bath prepared for me in the morning.”

“Absolutely,” she replies with a curtsy before rushing off.

Kurt laughs softly behind her, and she turns to find him leaning against the bottom of the stairs with his arms crossed over his chest.

“A night on the town, is it, Greenblood?”

“I thought we might check out the port…”

“Looking for something in particular?” he asks, a wry smile on his lips.

“I’d wager one gold piece that Vasco will be thanking me by the end of the night.”

“You’re on.” He raises his brows but claps his hand against the wall calling, “Sailor, Pretty Flower, get down here or get left behind!”

The two of them stomp and grumble all the way down.

“Kurt, I do not think it a good idea for me to go traipsing around this city. They hate my people.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Besides, we aren’t going to be traipsing around the city,” he replies, offering her an arm.

She takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh, but she takes his arm and lets him lead her out the door. Outside, Elizabeth takes Vasco’s arm with a quick glance over her shoulder at a smirking Kurt, heading out looking for the port.

Down a side street, they pass a large building with the Coin Tavern sign hanging over the door. Directly to the left, she sees what she is looking for in the distance. A small lighthouse glowing in the night leading them to their destination.

As they get closer, Vasco stops in his tracks, “What are we doing here, de Sardet?”

Choosing her words carefully, she replies, “I thought you might like to see if the ship is here…”

“I would, yes,” he nods.

“This is your domain, lead the way.”

With Elizabeth still on his arm, he leads them under the arch and around the small lighthouse. After descending a set of stone stairs, Vasco turns to his right and throws open the door under the tavern sign, the four of them piling in.

Almost immediately, Jonas, Flavia and Lauro are rising from their seats and rushing up to pull them along to their table. Elizabeth orders the entire table a round of drinks, watching Vasco who glances around without asking about a certain red-headed navigator.

“Where is the rest of the crew?” she quickly asks in his stead.

“Oh, they’re around. I’ll go see if I can round anyone up,” Jonas says before bouncing away and up the stairs at the other end of the room.

Vasco gives her a look, but she quickly lifts her mug to her mouth obscuring her temporarily from his sight. She glances across the table at Kurt who gives her half a smile for her efforts.

Vasco suddenly stiffens next to her, and she turns in time to see two arms snake around his shoulders, a pop of silken red coils falling over his face where Coble stands leaning over him. In one move, he grabs her hand, pulling her around and into his arms, a familiar and effective move. Cheers rise from the crowd around the table as he pulls her tightly against him, kissing her tenderly.

Elizabeth quickly looks to Kurt. “Is that a universal move that they teach all men?”

“What’s that, Greenblood? How to sweep a woman off her feet?” he asks coyly, a smile playing on his lips.

In a moment, Vasco is on his feet, leaning in close and muttering in her ear, “Thank you, de Sardet.” A love drunk smile on his face as Coble leads him across the tavern, up the stairs and out of sight.

A blush rises on her cheeks and Kurt gently kicks her foot under the table to get her attention. He flips a gold piece in her direction which she manages to grasp against her palm. Holding it between her thumb and finger, she slips it almost ceremoniously into the breast pocket of her jacket, never taking her eyes off of him.

Jonas drops onto the bench next to her, finally drawing her eyes away from Kurt, immediately filling her in on everything that happened after the crew left New Serene. Ruben, it seems, struts around the ship like it belongs to him, treating the crew as if they are beneath him. Instead of getting to know them, he spends much of his time at the brothel.

Though it is unusual in the middle of a voyage, they’ve also taken on a new crew member, a volunteer named Alba who works with Flavia and Lauro and the other able-bodied sailors on board. Jonas stands and looks about, but she seems to be missing from their crowd tonight.

After some time passes, Kurt gestures behind her and she turns in time to see Vasco pulling Coble along behind him as they descend the stairs and pass by her, sitting on her opposite side now. He catches her attention, the warmest smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, as he leans gently into her with his shoulder.

Siora gives Coble a sideways glance, and Vasco introduces the two of them, a reverence passing between them. Kurt and Elizabeth never spent much time around Coble on the ship, but tonight, watching her with Vasco, seeing the genuine mutual respect they have for each other, they both make a concerted effort to get to know her better.

~Coble~

Kurt nonchalantly asks about her chin tattoo, pointing out the differences from Vasco’s sea-given marking, correctly guessing that it indicates she is a rare sea-born Naut. In fact, she was born just days before her parents would have disembarked. They thought they had time to make it and were devastated when she arrived early.

Though they had inquired tirelessly about ways to interfere or to stop them, soon after her eighth year, the Nauts had come and claimed her, taking her to the home island where she spent a year learning about their history and their ships. It was rather bumpy at first, she was homesick and had tried running away several times, but with nowhere to go, she had finally settled into the life and accepted her fate.

Once she was placed on one of the ships as a midshipman, she had begun training in navigation, happily avoiding falling into the rank of cabin boy as so many recruits do. Most likely, due to her sea-born status. In the end, she had found a position as the navigator’s apprentice on the Sea Horse under Captain Burk, who Vasco would eventually replace.

The entire crew was on edge the day their new captain was due on deck. Captain Burk, tried and true with years of experience, had been hard but fair. He had high expectations and his men always rose to meet them. Knowing he was being replaced by a green captain, the youngest in the fleet, rubbed a lot of the crew the wrong way.

But it made sense. The crew of the Sea Horse was like a well-oiled machine, most of them having worked together for years. What better position to drop a young captain into than one where his crew can foresee commands, knows the ship like the back of their hand, and can back him up if he falters?

Not knowing what she expected, admittedly, the moment she first saw Vasco step on deck something switched on inside her. This winding feeling in her middle that intensified every time he looked at her, his golden eyes focused and resolute under the shadow of his leather tricorne.

He was polished and put together, with a refined voice to match, as if he had just recently been plucked right out of court and Coble could see exactly why Cabral had chosen him to captain her flagship. Even without trying, Vasco was charming, his stature commanding, and even his distinguished guests took great interest in him.

His first few days on board had been rather tenuous, the crew seemingly immune to his charms and still bitter about being under the command of a man who was younger than most of them. It was painfully obvious he was trying to define his space on the ship, who he was as Captain and his relationship to his crew.

Working close together, Coble had quickly come to know him better than most, discovering an unexpected warmth and grace to the man. He was every bit as fair as Burk, but without the hardness. He hated discord and having to dole out punishments to the crew, often openly seeking her advice in those situations.

All the time, she worked alongside him, keeping her thoughts to herself. They had both had their share of lovers over the years, but nothing long term. And Vasco had never once gotten involved with one of his crew. Being several years older, she had the advantage of experience and patience, and it wasn’t until he left the crew that she finally let herself consider acting on her feelings.

Seeing him at the port that last day, something in her had given way, opened up like a dam breaking and releasing a flood. It could have been the thought of him being replaced, moved to another ship or another fleet, but some voice told her it might be her last chance. She took it.

If she had any doubt, it was erased when he had climbed over the tables that night, ready to defend her honor without treating her like some damsel that needed saving. In his mind, she was strong and capable on her own. And the moment she realized it was the moment she decided to go all in.

Looking at him now, the feeling of his hands on her skin still burning under her clothes, much remains unsaid between them, but they have time. And tonight, she wants to get to know the people he spends most of his time with now, as it is no longer her. She watches him laughing with the legate and the rest of her retinue, his arm around her waist pulling her closer.

As the night draws on, most of the crew disappears and the tavern empties of everyone but the most dedicated drinkers. Wishing the others goodnight as they head for the door, she grabs Vasco by the collar and pushes him against the wall. “Will I see you again before you leave?” she asks in a more needy voice than she intended.

Nodding, he replies, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You had better.”

With a familiar effortlessness, he sweeps her up, dipping her in his arms, their mouths meeting in a warm breath. She parts her lips allowing him to kiss her deeper, fuller, before he mutters, “Count on it…” standing her back on her feet and backing out through the open door.

When he is gone from her sight, she catches her breath and crosses back to the stairs and up to her room, climbing into the rented bed. Whatever this is between them, it has no name as of yet, both of them unwilling to break whatever spell they’re under. But it is certainly more than a casual fling. At least in her mind.

Vasco, she is almost certain feels the same. He was the one who asked her to see him again when she returns to New Serene. Leaving him standing on the dock, watching the distance between them grow as the ship picked up speed was heart wrenching. But showing up tonight was a welcome surprise, one she could get used to.

~Elizabeth~

Vasco looks at her across the dinner table with a somewhat goofy smile. “I want to thank you again, de Sardet, for last night.”

“No need to thank me, Vasco.”

Next to her, a quiet Siora broods and finally mutters, “I think it best if I stay here. These zealots burn my people.”

Elizabeth nods at her, giving her hand a squeeze.

After breakfast, they leave Siora reading on the sofa in the sitting room and Elizabeth is accompanied by Kurt and Vasco as they leave the house, taking a left and making their way toward the palace which stands tall above the rest of the cityscape.

In the middle of the main square is a pyre with a creature shackled atop it that is very similar to the one that escaped from the ship in Serene. It is in obvious pain and fear but also anger, writhing over the flames. A middle-aged man with long gray hair in a clandestine uniform stands before it admiring his work.

Elizabeth takes a step forward ready to interfere and Vasco grasps her arm, holding her back. Looking at him questioningly, he shakes his head, a frightened look on his face.

The man turns to a native who is bound and crouched on the ground before him, demanding, "Do you renounce your gods?! Answer me."

"Why? Why are you doing this?" The man is fearful but also clearly in pain over what is being done to the creature.

The priest gestures to the pyre. "Behold your so-called gods, your demons, they burn, they are nothing! You shed tears for this creature while your heart should be full of joy, welcoming the light!" His hand darts out squeezes the man's throat tightly. "Forget your pagan foul teachings, embrace the true faith!"

She jumps, almost pulling against Vasco’s hold, his grip tightening around her arm.

Barely able to breathe or speak, the native manages to utter, "You are mad!"

These words seem to enrage the priest and he forces the man to the ground, continuing to squeeze his neck while shouting "RENOUNCE YOUR GODS!" continuing to strangle the man until he is dead. Then he rises, dusts himself off, and looks to one of his comrades who gestures in the direction of Elizabeth and her companions.

Rage washes through her at the acts she has just witnessed, the burning of the creature and the senseless murder of a seemingly innocent man. She pushes it down, unable to change what was done. Being on a diplomatic mission she must not create trouble. For herself or Constantin. She feels the hand on her arms release her and the two of them step back into a formation behind her.

"You! You wear the mark of the impure pagan cult of the natives! I am Inquisitor Aloysius, and by the authority of my title I order you to explain yourself!"

She senses that Kurt is probably no more than five seconds from burying his sword in this man's head and so she gently touches his hand, reassuring him that she has everything under control now. A gesture that went unnoticed by anyone else.

Standing tall and speaking in her haughtiest voice, she says, "I am the legate to the Congregation on Teer Fradee. Cousin to the governor of New Serene. I have business with the Mother Cardinal, and I need not answer to you.”

“A diplomat? If the truth of the Enlightened is obscured, then our relations are tainted and of no value! Answer my questions or receive the punishment reserved for heretics. Do you believe that the God of light is the one and only god?"

She does not follow the teachings of Thélème, but if it will get this man to avoid a diplomatic incident she will play along. "Yes, I believe it to be so."

"Really? If that is the case, what is the name of the most holy of men, he who transmitted the divine testament?"

It seems that Sir de Courcillon's attention to her education will finally pay off. "The Holy Prophet and Founder of Thélème was Saint Matheus!" she answers, moving to walk around the man blocking her way.

He puts a hand up, stopping her. "One final question and you may continue along your path. What gift did his sacred divinity award us when we accepted the words of the divine prophet?"

"He gave us magic. But it is a rather tricky theological enigma. Many would argue that he offered us far more than that." She might have gone a little too far, but she enjoys flaunting her knowledge in this man's face.

"Precisely! Precisely. I shall allow you to continue along your path. I am certain ours will cross again. And be aware that where so ever you wander, you shall be weighed, measured, and judged"

They continue their way through the courtyard, Elizabeth tossing a look over shoulder at the man as they pass the poor creature still burning upon the pyre, moving towards the long stone staircase that leads to the palace.

From behind her, Vasco speaks from her right, “Do not think for a moment that is the last you will see of the likes of him, de Sardet.”

“Why not?” she asks, without stopping.

“He will be watching you closely from now on, to catch you in your lie.”

“What else should I have done? You seemed set on stopping me from interfering.”

Vasco sighs heavily, replying, “There is nothing you could have done for that poor soul. But you handled yourself very well."

“What I wouldn’t give for an excuse to bury my sword in the man’s gullet, but I must admit that Vasco is right.”

Elizabeth finally stops and turns to look her loyal guard in the eyes. “About what?”

“Your economy with the truth. Careful there,” he warns, an unpleasant edge to his voice.

"It seems to me you're being sarcastic, Kurt," she says playfully.

"Me? My apologies, your Excellency. It wasn't my intention."

"Now I know you're being sarcastic," she laughs softly and smiles, and continues craftily "you never call me that."

He shoots her a devilish grin but says nothing else as she turns and continues up the stairs.

As they enter the palace, they pass a bishop in full religious regalia. He calls back after them, “You’re the new legate of New Serene, are you not?”

Elizabeth turns to face him, absolutely in no mood for any more confrontations. Sighing heavily, she replies, “I am. And you are?”

“I am Bishop Petrus. You probably wouldn’t remember me, but I knew you when you were a child in your uncle’s court. My, how much you have grown to resemble the natives…” he says, taking a close look at the birthmark on her face.

“What can I do for you, father?” she asks, tired and already exasperated.

“I happen to be on my way to New Serene now, to meet with the governor. Perhaps we could travel together? Safety in numbers?”

She thinks for a moment and can almost feel Kurt saying no in her head, but the man is going in the same direction, and she might be able to get more information from him. She nods once. “I am not sure when I will be leaving, but you are welcome to tag along if you like.

He nods and steps in behind Kurt and Vasco, following them further in.

Inside, she notices that the palace is much like the ones in New Serene and Hikmet, each one simply distinguished by the founding nations coat of arms and colors, this one in red and gold, decorated in the symbol of the Enlightened. They follow the now familiar layout, passing down the hall and up the stairs to the throne room, entering and crossing the length of the room to stand before the Mother Cardinal.

Much like the scientists of Hikmet, the healers of San Matheus have made no inroads into a cure or even a treatment for the Malichor. And much like Governor Burhan, the Mother Cardinal seems to have an expectation of quid pro quo before she will reveal what progress they have made, requesting Constantin send an expedition to speak with the leaders of a village they believe to be worshipping an island demon.

After making guarantees she will inform her cousin of her wishes, Elizabeth leaves the court and returns to the embassy where she receives a message from Marlette, left there for her by a guard who was approached by some natives who wanted to speak with her urgently. They have indicated an area to the Northeast of the city in a small clearing.

She turns and heads for the door, but Kurt slips his hand around her arm, stopping her.

“Where are you going, Greenblood?”

“Some natives left word with one of the guards asking that I come and meet with them.”

“Not without me, you aren’t.”

“Kurt…”

“I’m going and that’s final.”

Nodding her head, she looks at Siora and asks, “Would you come?”

She stands and follows her out the door.

Immediately Vasco is on her heels, “What about me?”

“Maybe you could clean up a bit before we head out to the tavern later.”

He smiles and nods, stepping back inside and closing the door.

The three of them leave the city heading south towards a small clearing in the hillside. To the west they climb a ledge and spy a narrow path hidden to the far left in thick bushes. Following it leads them to another ledge which opens to a larger clearing where they find several natives waiting around the body of a priest.

“You are the on ol menawi of the Lugeid Blau?”

“Lugeid Blau?” she asks looking to Siora.

“This means yellow eyes.”

“The coins in the Congregation emblem?” she asks. Siora nods and she turns back to the man.

“We were told that you travel with one of our people, that you might be willing to help us.”

“My name is de Sardet. I am a diplomat and it’s my job to try to build relationships with other nations.”

"A diplomat is one who talks, right? Not someone who fights?" he asks dubiously, his eyes narrowed.

“I can defend myself when the situation calls for it. But what can I do for you?”

“These red suns sneak into our camps and take our people. The last time, we captured this man, and we made him talk. He spoke of a secret camp where they take our brothers.”

Incredulous, she asks, “Why would they do this?”

“They are mind shakers, they get into your head and confuse you, torture you until you renounce your truth.”

“If true, then this cannot be allowed to continue, but with him dead, I have no proof.”

“We found this key on him and also some words sealed in bark. We do not know how to set them free, but the renaigse do, don't they?"

She takes the key and the letter from his hand reading it quickly. She sighs, “This letter is an order to kidnap and escort a group of captive natives. So at least some of what you say is true.”

“Does this…letter say where we may find the camp?” he asks hopefully.

“No, but it does tell you where to find the home of the man you killed.”

“Can you go there and look for the location of the camp?”

“I…” she hesitates, but the look in his eyes changes her mind. “Okay, I’ll go look.”

Back in the embassy, Siora fearfully says, "If the suns find me in this man's house, they will burn me!"

"I would never allow that to happen, Siora! But perhaps it is best if you stay here."

"You know how much the Ordo Luminis dislikes the Nauts. If they catch me in that house, I'm in big trouble. I'm just as likely to be burned by these men as she is."

"Petrus, perhaps you could come along. I suppose you might even prove useful if we were to be spotted."

"Of course, my child. I would be glad to be of service."

Petrus leads them to the home of Father Claudius, Elizabeth using the key the natives gave her to open the door and slip inside. The office is much like their embassy in Serene, except without the life size statue of Saint Matheus. On the desk next to the stairs Elizabeth finds a letter addressed to Father Claudius from Inquisitor Honorius which mentions the father's work in his creation of the conversion camp. Also mentioned is a chest in the Ordo Luminis headquarters.

Passing the letter to Kurt who then passes it reluctantly to Petrus, she moves around behind the desk, opening the top drawer in the desk and finds a key inside with the emblem of the Ordo Luminis.

Looking through the window, she checks that the way is clear before stepping outside and away from the house.

Petrus takes the lead again, showing them the way to the main square. “There,” he says, pointing out the building, “near the palace steps. It isn't likely to be heavily guarded. No one dares to trouble them."

The entrance is surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence with cutouts of the sun symbol. They quietly sneak up to the gate on the northern side, Kurt quickly picking the lock, and slip in unnoticed. The main room seems to be a place of prayer, low benches arranged around an altar.

Through the door on the right, they find a large office completely surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves and a desk in the far corner. Behind the desk is a chest and, in the chest, they find another letter to Father Claudius. This one speaks about a delivery of natives and an attached map gives away the location of the camp.

“This is what the natives sent me to find. It tells the location of the camp and even lists future missions to abduct more captives.

“With their magic, the Ordo Luminis is formidable in a fight. These natives risk walking into a massacre.”

“Kurt, I have no intention of leaving them to face it on their own.”

Returning once again to the Embassy, Elizabeth asks Siora to come with them to meet the natives. It might be too risky to take Petrus considering the circumstances.

For a moment, Siora stares at her, eyes hard and distant.

“Siora, what is it?”

"I know about your encounter with the red sun who burns my people. Do you really believe all the things you told him?"

Elizabeth looks to Vasco who glances away sheepishly. Looking back to Siora, she answers softly and truthfully, "No, Siora. I don't believe the things I told him."

"Then why did you?" she asks, real pain in her voice as she tries to understand.

“Father Aloyisius, he was in the main square, in front of everyone. Had it come to it, I would have defended us, but I was doing what I thought best at the time. Maybe I did make a mistake in how I handled it. It's not always easy to know what to say and what to do."

“I still do not understand.”

"You are so genuine with who you are. All the time. I can't imagine that kind of liberty and I don't know if you can appreciate the position I’m in,” she says, hesitating a moment before she continues. “I have the eyes of everyone on me. These governors, the inquisitors, the Nauts, the Guard, the Merchants...the Natives. Even Constantin. And I have to appease them all."

"I understand, on ol menawi. But I hope that you will do what is right when the time comes. I will go with you."

“Thank you, Siora."

Back in the clearing, they show the natives the location of the camp on the map, east of the city.

“I recognize this place. Thank you, on ol menawi.”

Elizabeth looks down at the body of Father Claudius. Looking back up at the native man before her, she says solemnly, “The inquisitors cannot find out about our role in this.”

“They will not find out. We will make this body disappear and no one will ever find it. Beurd tir to mad on ol menawi!”

By the time they arrive back at the embassy, the sky is beginning to darken in the east. Sitting down to dinner, Elizabeth watches as Petrus observes the four of them silently, obviously feeling out of his element. And when they begin to talk about going to the port tavern, he quietly excuses himself, taking an empty room upstairs for the night. Just as well, she decides, with the tensions between the Nauts and the priests, they just might end up in another bar fight if he tagged along.

After getting cleaned up a bit, there is a soft knock at the door. She crosses to answer it expecting Kurt but finds Vasco instead.

“I wanted to apologize, de Sardet. I didn’t realize that telling Siora what happened might cause problems.”

He sounds as low as he looks, and she finds it impossible to be angry. “I know, Vasco. The truth is, I should have told her myself,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

She leads him back downstairs where Kurt and Siora are already waiting for them, stepping out under the stars, they wind through the streets, Vasco making his way back to the port and into the arms of a certain red-headed navigator.

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

When he steps through the tavern door, Vasco immediately spots Coble, her fiery red hair freed from her tricorne and flowing, untamed, about her shoulders. Looking up, she flashes him a smile but stays where she is, seated between Solomon on one side and Aleander on the other. Settling for the next best spot, he sinks into the bench opposite her.

“So, Cap, you be here in the morning to see us off again?” Solomon teases with a hearty laugh that makes his entire body quake.

He watches the rings forming in his pint of ale as the entire table shakes. “Perhaps. That depends on where I spend the night,” he replies, giving Coble a quick glance before looking back down into the mug placed in front of him.

Losing himself in his thoughts, he tries desperately to come up with a plan, some way to begin a conversation with Coble. Not here and now, but when they hopefully find themselves alone together later.

A question burns in his mind, but his fear holds him back. Maybe she wants something different. Maybe talking about it will ruin everything. Maybe he should just leave it as it is and say nothing. Then his mind drifts to the possibilities. Maybe she does want the same thing. Maybe she is waiting for him to say it first.

Maybe.

When Solomon stands, Vasco is shaken momentarily out of his thoughts as his hand lands gently on his shoulder. “If I don’t see you in the morning, Cap, I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, Sol,” he calls out after him as he makes his way between the crowded tables and up the stairs.

Coble leans in across the table, getting close enough that he could trail a line of kisses down her neck and to her chest, and he finds himself tempted to do so. Instead, he focuses on her eyes, deep blue jewels against her creamy, freckle-dotted skin.

“Do you want to come up?”

No words seem sufficient to answer such an invitation. Standing, he takes her hand and holds it gently as they move to the end of the table, their joined hands passing over the heads of the seated crowd. This time, he leads her to the bar, calling out to the barkeep for a bottle of his best rum, dropping a few coins on the counter, just managing to grab the bottle before he feels a hand on his arm hauling him in the opposite direction. Then they’re on the stairs and slipping through the door.

Following Coble down the hall, Vasco is led into the room all the way on the other end, the moonlight falling through windows on two walls lighting the room well enough to see by. He locks the door and crosses the room to a small desk where he places the bottle, turning and leaning back against the beveled edge.

She steps up next to him and removes the cork from the bottle, tipping it up and swallowing down a large drink, passing it to him. Taking it from her with a chuckle, he tips it back, nearly choking when she steps between his legs and presses against him. Coughing and sputtering rum, he passes it back to her, watching as she replaces the cork and sets the bottle aside.

When his coughing subsides, he runs his hands down her sides, leaving them to rest on the curve of her hips, pulling her closer. Searching for the words to tell her what he wants, Vasco mutters, “So, we have to leave in the morning.” He grasps her hips, likely leaving imprints but not hard enough to bruise her.

Coble leans into him, pressing herself against him, driving him mad. She slips her hands up over his chest and around his neck. With him leaning against the desk, the two of them are almost even in height and she brushes her lips up the line of his jaw, murmuring close to his ear, “So do I.” Pulling back, locking eyes, she continues, “We’ll be headed for Hikmet. I don’t suppose…”

If only he could contrive some excuse to go there but Elizabeth has more important things on her agenda than his love life. “No,” he admits, with a slight shake of his head, “we just returned from there. We have to go and see Constantin and then I suppose we’ll be off to find some lost expedition.”

“Sounds like an adventure. A lot more interesting than ferrying cargo around the island.”

“I uh, I’m glad I got to see you, Maeve, while we’re here,” he says softly, gently and rather awkwardly nudging the conversation back on course.

She steps back, her hands grip his, pulling them from her waist and holding them tenderly before her. “Vasco, I’m not one to be shy. I speak my mind and I say what I want.”

“I can’t imagine you any other way.”

“Good,” she replies, giving his hands a gentle squeeze, “because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. And now is as good a time as any.”

For a moment, a tight ball of anxiety begins to grow in his middle, but he reminds himself that Coble owes him nothing. Standing, he crosses to the bed, tugging her along with him, and lets himself sink into the mattress, relaxing as much as he can. “Of course. What’s on your mind?” he asks, now looking up at her turned down face, red curls spilling around her forehead and cheeks and hovering about her head wildly.

She takes a deep breath and begins with a sigh, “We’ve known each other for years but this thing between us, whatever it is, it means something to me. I understand if you don’t want the same thing, but I don’t want to see anyone but you.”

Relief washes over him, followed by a mounting desire. He never knew what a woman like Coble could do to him with just a few words. “Come here,” he whispers, pulling her in and lowering her onto his lap. “When I walked in tonight, all I saw was you. I want to see where this goes.”

She nods, her lips softly brushing against his with the motion, stirring his desire which spirals in his middle like a tightly wound spring. In a desperate fumble of hands and buckles, clothes fall to the floor around them, flung over the bed posts and even to the windowsill. Pushing her to the desk, he lifts her to sit on the cool wood surface, running his hands down her thighs, her legs parting to give him access, and he admires her for a moment before diving in to devour her.

Vasco wakes sometime later, Coble’s soft and fleshy body pressed against him, the tempting curve of her breast lying misshapen and pale, contrasting against his darker chest. A quick glance at the windows telling him it’s not yet morning, he sighs into the stagnant air, turning his face into the spray of citrus scented hair spreading out over the pillows, tickling his ear and his nose.

The first thing he realizes when he wakes up, the room flooded with the early morning light, is the absence of Coble next to him. Reaching his hand out, he discovers the space next to him is already cold and all of Coble’s things are gone. As he begins to drag himself out of bed, second guessing everything that happened the night before, he feels a small glass bottle roll against his hand where it’s pressing down the mattress beneath him.

Lifting it, he discovers a piece of rolled paper stuffed down inside. Slipping one slender finger into the opening, he fishes it out, dropping the empty bottle on the bed beside him, unfurling the paper in his hands and reading it aloud.

Vasco,

I didn’t want to wake you, but I had to leave. Ruben showed up first thing this morning demanding we all get to the ship. I hope I’ll see you on the dock…

Maeve

The uneasy feeling dissipates, the tightening in his chest relaxes and he can breathe again. Standing, he begins to glance around, looking for his clothes, discovering them neatly folded and stacked on the desk, right where Coble sat the night before…

Quickly, he begins snapping up his clothes and throwing them on, turning around, locating his coat hanging on the back of the door, his boots at the foot of the bed and his tricorne hanging off the bedpost. Carefully placing it on his head with a smile, he grabs the small bottle from the bed, slipping it in one pocket and lifts the bottle of rum from the desk placing it in another, darting through the door, down the hall and bounding down the steps two at a time.

Once he is out the door, he begins to scan the docks, looking for the largest ship, spotting her across the way and taking off in a sprint to get there before it’s too late. Passing Nauts loading and unloading other ships, he weaves his way between them, holding his tricorne on top of his head with his empty hand.

Somehow, he reaches the gangplank just in time to watch Coble stroll down casually, tilting her head at him, half a smile on her lips. “I thought, just for a moment…”

“Just a little late is all…” he replies, his hand hooking around her waist and tugging her closer. He reaches up and brushes the curls from her face, stretching his fingers into her hair and brushing his thumb across her lip and along the contour of her cheek.

Closing the distance, she moves in, taking his lip between hers, pulling on it gently as she pulls away, taking a step back, up the plank behind her. Vasco grasps her hand, holding it until she is at the end of his reach before releasing her, no more words spoken between them, everything that needed to be said has been said.

~Elizabeth~

Watching the way Vasco and Coble hold each other sends a slight pang through her chest and Elizabeth has to force herself not to glance over at Kurt, knowing that he will know what she’s feeling because it must be written all over her face. And he’s probably feeling it too. That longing to be able to be free with each other, in the open, unguarded and exposed.

As the gangplank is raised, and the sails unfurl, snapping in the wind, Vasco moves closer, leaning against one of the nearby poles, keeping his eye on Coble as the ship moves away from the dock. Elizabeth reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder as they watch the ship growing ever smaller until it is nothing more than a dot on the horizon.

Risking a glance over her shoulder at Kurt, she inhales sharply at the look on his face, and she grazes his arm with the back of her hand as she turns and passes him, headed back to the embassy. They make their way quickly through the turns and twists now they’ve been down these streets several times before.

Inside, they quickly gather their things and repack, Vasco shoving breakfast in his mouth to their amusement. Elizabeth thanks Marlette as she ushers them out the door, Siora and Petrus close on their heels, the two of them casting doubtful looks at each other all the way out of the city. Once they crest the hill and reach the other side of the outpost, Elizabeth hires a caravan to take them to New Serene.

Now with the five of them crammed in the back, spreading out is impossible, so they sit in various positions leaning against their packs, a heavy silence hanging between them. She looks over to Siora who glances away, obviously not yet over the previous day’s events, staring out the opening in the cover at the landscape rolling away behind them.

It’s long past nightfall by the time the caravan comes to a stop, and they begin to climb out, Kurt helping Elizabeth down. Leading the way, she takes the high street back to the square with Petrus following along behind. As they pass through the square, she notices he looks up at the statue of the prince until they step through the manor gate.

When she comes to the door, Abigail sighs in relief to see Elizabeth back home safe, ushering everyone inside. “Can I run you a bath, milady?” she asks, stoking the fire until Kurt steps up and takes the iron from her, taking over.

“Not tonight, thank you. I would love something quick to eat and then I simply want to sleep for about two days,” she sighs, smiling through her exhaustion.

Juliet appears in the dining room doorway. “I’ll have something ready for you in just a bit…” she says, disappearing back to the kitchen.

“Abigail, I do need you to take Father Petrus here upstairs so he can get settled in.”

She bows and leads Petrus up the stairs, and the others follow close behind.

Elizabeth steps through her door, dropping her pack heavily on the floor and moving to the bathroom where she can clean up a bit before dinner. Kurt knocks on his door, and she opens it, grasping his hand and pulling him inside despite his protestations.

“Kurt, it’s late,” she says, passing him a clean damp cloth, “don’t worry about modesty.”

She leans against the counter watching as he takes the cloth and hesitantly runs it over his face and neck. When he takes out his razor and shave cream, she steps closer, observing the way he lathers it over his skin, and listening to the sound as the razor scrapes against his stubble. After he finishes rinsing and drying his face, she steps right up to him, reaching up to feel his skin, smooth and surprisingly soft under her fingers.

He carefully puts the razor away before reaching for her, leaving a sweet kiss on her temple before pulling her into his arms. One day, they’ll no longer have to think about who is watching or how far things go, and she can wait. Patiently.

A knock on her door pulls her reluctantly out of his arms and to her room. When she turns the knob, Abigail appears and lets her know that dinner is ready. With the others following, she heads down, taking her usual seat at the table but Siora seats herself further away, eating silently.

Petrus fills the empty seat and fills the silence with talk of the Enlightened, demons and cults. By the time he stops, Elizabeth stands and bids them all goodnight, making her way back upstairs, Kurt close on her heels.

At her door he takes her hand and pulls her closer. “Just give her time. She can’t yet begin to understand the weight on your shoulders.”

Pulling him inside, she nods, murmuring, “I know.”

“Goodnight, Greenblood…” he whispers, releasing her hand and disappearing through his door, closing it softly behind him.

Exhausted, she strips off her jacket and changes into a fresh shirt, climbing into bed and falling into a deep sleep.

~Kurt~

Constantin looks haggard. His appearance, pale ashen skin, red eyes punctuated with dark circles truly concerning. Kurt watches as Elizabeth questions her cousin about his health, about the doctors, all of which he waves off as unimportant.

Despite her concern, Elizabeth drops the subject. She will get no further with him once he has his mind made up. Instead, she relays the regards of the Mother Cardinal and Governor Burhan, introducing Petrus as an ambassador of Thélème.

Continuing, she informs Constantin of the quid pro quo nature of both governors' requests. If she discovers the secrets of the native clan for the Mother Cardinal and locates the lost expedition for Governor Burhan, they will share what they have learned, though it seems like neither have learned much. In the end, he consents to have her try to comply with their requests, insisting she take Kurt along to watch her back.

Kurt suppresses a smile, catching a sideways glance and smirk from Vasco. Once outside the court, Elizabeth shoots both of them a look, sighing and shaking her head at the two of them. He knows she finds it almost as amusing as they do, only she is without the luxury of showing it.

On their way back to the house, she tells the others to go on ahead, walking slowly with Kurt to the gate and pulling him into the garden and near the fountain. Sitting on the edge, she leans in watching the fish swimming under and around the lily pads.

After some time, he sits behind her, leaning in and resting his chin over her shoulder, one hand lightly on her waist, taking the moment to be close to her with no expectations and no lines to draw. Hidden in the safety of the garden hedges, this moment belongs to them and only them.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

When the caravan passes shakily over the stone bridge in the Magasvár region, Kurt slaps his palm against the side wall and calls out to the driver. This is as far as they can go. From here, they are on foot.

As they follow the map north to the location the expedition was last known to have set up camp, he keeps a wary eye on the priest from his position in the rear. For all his objections, Elizabeth had insisted he come along, unwilling to leave him to his own devices back in New Serene. Her reasoning is sound. Father Petrus is better kept in their sights where they can watch him, but Kurt trusts the man about as much as he would trust a viper in a dark pit.

When they reach the camp, they discover an ominous scene. There are definite signs of combat. The tents are all shredded and native spears pierce some of them from all directions. In the middle of the camp, a large, scorched mark near one of the tents is burned into the very earth, a pit that no known weapon could have made.

Overturned tables with scientific instruments littering the ground lay around the area confirming that it is the scientists’ camp, but they find no bodies and no signs of any. The campfire has been out for at least a day, but they have nothing else to go on.

In one of the tents, Kurt picks up a discarded journal. The last page speaks of a woman named Aphra who had chosen to camp some distance from the rest of the group, complaining about their noise keeping her up and distracting her. He passes the journal to Elizabeth and moves on to a well-worn path through the woods where he discovers a faint blood trail. Dry and fading, it looks to be several days old.

As the others now follow him, they find more blood further down the path and keep moving in that direction, coming to the body of a man in the familiar garb of the Bridge Alliance. Pierced in the back with a spear, the man seems to have been running away when he was killed.

Passing his body, they come around a rocky ridge and drop over a short ledge to find a smaller camp with a single tent overlooking the valley below. There are no signs of combat or any kind of disturbance at all aside from the missing occupant who left quickly, leaving her journal behind just inside the flap of the tent. Inside the cover they discover the name Aphra, and, inside the pages, scientific notations about the local flora and fauna, drawings and samples.

Backtracking to the larger campsite, they follow the path north from the camp that cuts through the valley, winding back and forth until they reach a swampy area below. Kurt watches Elizabeth leave the others to look around the area, walking deeper into the swamp and coming across an odd sight. A large glass bottle, which has no business being in a place like this, bobs gently in the water.

Scooping it up, she examines it closely, looking in his direction. Before she can call out, a woman in a kaftan and beret jumps from the tree in front of her, landing with a large splash in the marshy water before her. She rises slowly from her landing position and pulls a knife from a sheath on her leg. Relying on their training, Elizabeth skillfully knocks it from her hand. In the recoil, the woman draws her gun from her holster and brandishes it in her face.

Kurt takes only a moment to reach them but holds back, his hand on the leather grip of his sword, his heart hammering inside his chest as he assesses the situation. He motions the others to step back and keep their distance. One wrong move could get Elizabeth killed.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Elizabeth says, trying to reason with the woman.

“Then what do you want?”

“We’re here to help you.”

The woman draws closer and places the barrel of her pistol between Elizabeth’s eyes and Kurt’s grip and chest tighten.

“And you expect me to believe you?” she asks, looking around at the motley crew.

“You might manage to take me out with that wet powder-filled pistol, but I guarantee you’ll be next.”

She angrily pulls the gun back then she snatches the bottle from her hand. “How did you find me?”

“When you failed to report in, Governor Burhan sent us to find your expedition.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that? Who are you?”

“My name is de Sardet. Legate of New Serene.”

“Ah, cousin to the young governor,” she replies, taking her pistol and using it to push her face to the side exposing her birthmark. “And what do you have to say for this native mark on your face?”

Kurt steps up closer, his hand still reaching for the sword at his back.

Elizabeth shoves the gun barrel away from her face. “The mark on my face is not your concern.”

The woman releases the hammer and lowers the pistol to her side looking directly at Kurt. “And you?”

Kurt takes a step closer, arms crossed over his chest. “Me?” he asks caustically. “The name is Kurt. It is my job to watch her Excellency’s back so if you have another violent outburst, I won’t think twice about running you through and leaving you here in this swamp for the beasts.”

He watches as Elizabeth has to stifle a laugh behind the woman’s back, which she disguises as a cough. Unamused, he notices Vasco nearly doing the same.

“Hmmm. A native, a priest, a Naut, a mercenary and a dignitary. It’s like the beginning of a bad joke. My name is Aphra.” She looks directly at Kurt and says, “And I’m not partial to the swamp.”

“Where are the others from your expedition?”

“Captured,” she replies, turning in Elizabeth’s direction. “I alone managed to escape. I’ve been watching the village waiting for an opportunity to get back in and release the others.”

“So you could lead us to this village?

“Yes. If you swear to allow me to help you free my comrades”.

Aphra leads them down a winding trail to an old, abandoned campsite near the native village. She points at a set of structures some distance away which looks similar to the ones they found near the battlefield in the Red Woods.

“We’ll wait for nightfall and then follow this ridge to the west and sneak in quietly.”

“What if they don’t have until nightfall? There are more than enough of us to take on a few disorganized natives.”

“I will not be involved in the senseless killing of these people,” Elizabeth replies indignantly, haughtily, making it clear that she is in charge.

“They killed one of ours simply for running away.”

“I will avoid bloodshed if at all possible. You can agree and come along or refuse and stay behind.”

Aphra huffs and crosses her arms over her chest, sinking onto a log around the barren fire pit, glaring across the campsite at Siora. For her part, Siora glares right back, sitting up straight and proud.

They don't have to wait long for the veil of night to close before they begin to make their way to the east until they round the rock edge that lines the path. Staying under the cover of the trees, far from the eyes of the villagers, they manage to completely pass the ruins.

Walking to the north, they come to a hidden ledge that leads up and over some of the structures. This gets them safely past the guards at the entrance. Staying in the shadows of the ruined walls, they sneak around two more guards who are patrolling. Fortunately, the ruins provide ample places to hide in complete darkness and they easily make it to the stairs that lead to the prison.

Only one guard patrols the prison, and he must watch the entire area. Elizabeth watches for him to move away from the stairs. When he does, she signals her companions to follow her. Up the stairs, they find a path between the structures and then a set of stairs which lead down to the prison. She locates the keys hanging on a hook on the opposite wall and unlocks the cell, giving the prisoners their freedom.

Signaling for them to stay down, she leads them through the remains of this village, passing through and out of sight to a ladder. “I guess we climb,” she says quietly over her shoulder.

They each climb up one by one, and around a ledge, waiting for everyone to make it up before continuing east. On the far end, they come to a cliff edge, dropping carefully to the ground below and out of sight.

Elizabeth leads them south, back to the campsite, but, just before they reach it, they find some natives in their path. Heavily outnumbered, the natives quickly give up and ask for mercy. Despite the protestations of the scholars, she lets them go.

They return to the campsite, which is close by, with the scientists in tow.

Aphra looks at her and says, “Perhaps I was wrong about you, de Sardet. You have managed to get my comrades to safety. Thank you.”

“I must admit, I have my own reasons for helping. We were told that you were getting close to a cure for the Malichor.”

“We had been making some promising discoveries before we were attacked. I hoped to be able to speak with the natives. They know far more about the local plant life than we do.”

“We have made a discovery, Aphra,” her colleague says, “but we’ll need to set out on a new expedition.”

“Then we’ll need to see Governor Burhan as soon as possible. Would you come with us, de Sardet?”

“If it means finding a cure, of course.”

They retrace their steps in the dark, back to the destroyed camp and down through the woods to the waiting caravan which sets out for Hikmet. Except for Petrus, Elizabeth and her companions each take watch, keeping an eye on the scientists as they travel. By the time they arrive outside the Hikmet outpost, the sky is beginning to lighten in the east.

In the palace, Governor Burhan stands to greet them this time when he sees the scholars are in their party, thanking Elizabeth for bringing them back safely. In a whirlwind, de Sardet finds herself leading a party at Burhan’s insistence to find some native woman, a healer, who is said to have a remedy, a cure for anything.

The man does not say as much, but Kurt gets the feeling he believes Elizabeth will be able to get further with the natives than his people can on their own. He’s probably right, considering their violent history with them, but his general suspicion and willingness to take advantage of her resemblance to the natives sets a tone. One that turns Kurt’s stomach.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

"Siora, is it truly possible?"

"The tierna is a powerful doneigad, carants. If one of our people were to discover a cure of that kind, it would be her."

Barely allowing herself to hope, Elizabeth gently presses Siora, “Do you know where we can find her?”

Siora stops in her tracks, glancing around at the others, "If I tell you, can I trust you all to never reveal it?"

She looks directly at Aphra and Petrus who return her hard gaze, but slowly nod their heads.

“Of course, Siora. I mean this woman no harm. She could be our only hope for a cure.”

Siora looks at her for a long moment and then sighs with a gentle shake of her head. “She lives in the village of Vígshádhír, to the northeast. I’ll take you there.”

After they pass through the Hikmet outpost, Siora leads them to the north through a thick wood with no clear path to follow. Every tree looks like the next, every clearing the same as the one before. Even if Petrus or Aphra wanted to reveal the location of the tierna, it would prove difficult for someone unfamiliar with the wild places on the island to get there.

As they follow behind Siora, the others are quiet, keeping their distance from one another with Kurt, Vasco and Elizabeth filling the awkward space between them. At least Siora looks at her once in a while, giving her hope that she is coming around.

Tramping their way through the woods, Kurt and Vasco carry on a conversation between themselves, the others still silent, avoiding speaking to each other as much as avoiding looking at each other. Tenuous at best, the lot of them hold hard to their prejudices against one another, seeing the others as enemies. Somehow, Elizabeth must break through their walls and find a way to bring them together. 

As they move deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser and taller, a quiet falls around them. Every step, every leaf crushed, and twig snapped echoing against the woods. In the quiet, even Elizabeth picks up on the sound of too many footsteps. Siora stops and they all freeze but the sound of dry leaves cracking continues longer than it should. Looking around, they see nothing at first, then a large stag bursts out of the woods and crosses their path, sprinting away.

After a moment, Siora continues on, leading them across a land bridge, a natural bridge created from fallen trees, over a rapidly flowing river, discovering a path that leads them into the wood on the other side.

"We are close, but we must be quiet to avoid detection. This place is sacred, the people secretive and solitary."

Elizabeth nods and follows as Siora leads them to the far edges of the village, hidden in a stand of trees and bushes near a large hut set away into the back. Motioning for the others to stay, Siora moves silently, disappearing around the other side of the hut.

As they wait, Elizabeth glances around at the faces of her companions, wondering if there is a way to get a priest and a scholar to learn to like each other. Or a priest and a native. Or, especially, a native and a scholar.

When Siora returns, she gestures for them to follow, leading them further west, away from the village, and then moving north.

As they move through the forest, they come to a passage between the rocky cliffs that encircles the large clearing beyond. Just north of the passage, they stumble upon a native woman who is sleeping in the embrace of a lewolan, a very large reptilian creature, one of the more ferocious beasts on the island. She is cradled in its protection under a massive but majestic tree dripping moss from its branches.

Their steps on the dry leaves wake her and she rouses the beast next to her which roars at the party before her. She is striking. Her face painted white, and her hair the color of moss, the horn like growth of the on ol menawi like a crown on her brow.

Despite the fearsome beast, Elizabeth and her companions approach the woman carefully. “Pardon my intrusion. I am de Sardet, emissary of the governor of New Serene.

"Mev, daughter of Morrigen, daughter of Cerdwin. What do you want from me, renaigse?”

“I hope you can help me, help my people. We are in search of a cure.”

“A cure for what?”

Elizabeth steps a little closer, but only just, speaking softly, “Malichor. A terrible sickness. It marks its victims with a red vine like rash that spreads across their skin, turning the blood black and burning like liquid fire in their veins. Incurable and untreatable. We were told you had created a cure that can heal anything. Please, I am begging for your help.”

“My help? More lies!”

“Please?”

Crossing her arms, she says, “No more. I will not listen to your lies or allow you to manipulate me.” She turns and flees, the beast standing between them, blocking their way.

“Kurt, back up. Give it some space.” She tugs at his sleeve, pulling him back and away from the creature.

It watches them until they move far enough that it loses interest, lying back on the ground and curling its tail around its body.

Petrus, finally speaking up, insists, “We can certainly take on one creature, no matter how large it is.”

“You saw the way the tierna harh was with this creature. Killing it will not make her any more inclined to help us. These creatures are territorial. If we give it space, we might be able to go around without a fight.”

“Are you sure, Greenblood?”

“No,” she admits, “but I would like to try.”

She leads them to the opposite side of the tree, as far as they can get from the creature. It huffs at them once with a snarl but settles back down and purrs softly as it falls asleep. Vasco and Kurt share a glance, looking back at her with something like surprise. She shrugs her shoulders at them, then she remembers the objective and darts off up the nearby path that the tierna took when she fled, the rest of them taking off after her.

Unsure where they are going, they keep following the winding path between the craggy ravine, always climbing higher until they come to a massive rock face, with a large door made of roots blocking their way. It is sealed up tight but the tierna had to have gone through it somehow as there is no other way out. Looking around, they discover a stone stele that stands before the door that must have some significance.

“There must be a way through,” she says, slipping her hands around it, looking for some type of switch to press or lever to flip.

Vasco steps up next to her and taps her shoulder. “From what I know of the natives, de Sardet, they prefer their rituals and magic to mechanical devices. There is some kind of ceremony involved in opening this door.”

“Carants, these doors work by placing an offering on the stone. The offering must be one of life.”

“Life? Like a sacrifice?” she asks warily, reluctant to spill blood, even that of some creature.

“Of a sort. You need to place the right seed on the stone and the doors will open.”

“How can we find out which seed will work?”

“Whatever it is, you should be able to find it near her home.”

“But if we leave, and she comes out…” she trails off, unsure of the right move.

“Perhaps someone should stay here on watch?” Kurt suggests, clearly not offering to be the one to stay behind.

“Siora, you stay here with Petrus and Aphra. If the tierna comes out, follow her.”

Elizabeth turns and heads back toward the village, Vasco and Kurt close on her heels as they begin the trek back down to the woods.

“Are you sure it’s wise leaving those three alone together?”

“Do you doubt my diplomacy skills, Vasco?”

They wind their way back down the path, the tree in the clearing growing larger with each step.

“Not at all, just your sanity,” he replies with a snicker.

Scoffing, Elizabeth slows and looks him in the eye. “What a relief. Here I thought I was losing my touch.”

“Not at all, your Excellency.”

Turning back, she spies the lewolan still napping under the tree, only snuffling once at the sound of the crisp leaves under foot, and they carefully sneak around again, passing safely by.

“If I kept them separated, they would never get to know one another and never learn to appreciate each other.”

“I feel like their appreciation for each other might be expressed in unexpected ways, Greenblood.” He motions at the sword on his back.

“Kurt, I’m surprised at you. I thought you of all people would trust my impulses.”

He clears his throat. “Uh…what impulses are we talking about?”

Elizabeth turns to look at him. Behind him, Vasco is fighting to keep a straight face. “Let’s just continue on, shall we?” she replies, turning back in the direction she is moving.

After they pass back through the rock passage, they find a clearing where several different species of flowers grow. One stands out. Clusters of red flowers with large shell-shaped petals unlike any Elizabeth has seen before. Upon closer inspection, she discovers the flowers bear seeds. Taking some, she holds them out in her palm showing Kurt and Vasco.

“This must be what we’re looking for. Let’s head back.”

~Kurt~

Elizabeth approaches the stone and places a seed upon it. Immediately, the ground shakes and the roots begin to retract until the way is clear. With Kurt taking up the rear, they enter and work their way deep into the cavern. It is immense, and the path winds around in circles of confusion. After finding themselves covering the same ground, Elizabeth begins finding stones along the way and creating a trail of the paths they have already tried. Eventually, treading new ground, they soon find themselves emerging back into the sun on the other side.

“Siora, can you wait here with Petrus and Aphra?”

Aphra begins to protest but Elizabeth shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, but if we all show up at once, she is only going to flee again. She will only see you and Petrus as enemies. Just stay here and wait for our return.”

Elizabeth, Kurt and Vasco follow the tracks leading away from the passage until they reach a ledge that drops down to a clearing, encircled by tall stones, beyond the nearby trees. After they pass through the trees, they discover a man in a Bridge Alliance uniform slowly pursuing the tierna around the large clearing.

Running in a large arc, she seems to be drawing the man into the middle of the circle rather than attempting to escape. The man raises his rifle and, before they can intervene, he shoots the tierna in the back, knocking her violently from her feet. Blood gushes from her middle as she crawls, clawing at the ground in an attempt to get away.

Just as the man is readying to fire at her again, she smiles devilishly, everyone watching as the leaves begin to rise instead of fall. As they all look around bewildered, ground shaking steps pound the earth and the man pauses and begins to turn as a massive creature like the one they saw burned in the square in San Matheus leaps upon the man and grabs him, tossing him into the air. Then the tierna speaks in her native language and points at Elizabeth and her party. The guardian rounds on them immediately.

“Wait! Please. Hear me out.”

The woman puts her hand out, holding the guardian back. “Speak,” she says with venom.

“I’m here to seek your help…” Elizabeth begins but trails off, Kurt following her gaze to the man who slowly stands and again raises his weapon.

Before they can even begin to react, he fires another shot into the tierna’s back, smiling satisfactorily as she crumples to the ground, appearing lifeless. Mysteriously, the creature stands aside as if awaiting her instructions.

Elizabeth aims her pistol in the man’s direction, demanding answers. “What have you done?”

Next to her, Kurt stands close, his weapon drawn and his face hard like stone. This woman was their greatest hope and now she is laying there dying before them.

The man wears a mustache and a strange goatee, a beret cocked to one side. “I’ve subdued the savage so I can bring her back alive.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I’m taking her to Hikmet. We need to study this woman. The cure lies in the natives’ magic, their transformations.”

Elizabeth raises her pistol. “You’re not taking her anywhere” she says defiantly with a shake of her head.

“My apologies, your Excellency, but I have strict orders to bring her back and to eliminate anyone who gets in my way.”

Kurt immediately steps between them, his breathing hard and seething, and knocks the rifle from the man’s hands with the flat side of his blade. Kicking him in the chest, knocking him to the ground breathless, Kurt stands over him with the point of his blade pressing into the man’s throat, a drop of blood trickling down his neck.

By the time Kurt sees the pistol the man draws from his back, it is too late. In a flash and with a deafening bang the man fires, filling the air with spent powder, Kurt just managing to draw the point of his blade across the man’s throat before a projectile slams into his body rocking him from his feet and blowing him back, landing with a heavy thud against the ground.

At first, he feels nothing, but then Elizabeth is on him, her hands pressing against his abdomen, screaming his name and the pain hits just as he struggles to take a shallow, wheezy breath, realizing the fall knocked the breath out of him. With a gurgling cough, his mouth suddenly floods with the taste of copper and iron and his nostrils fill with the scent of burnt powder. Every inhale sends more pain through every nerve ending in his body. He has been stabbed and sliced, beaten and whipped, but nothing caused pain like this. And he has never felt so breathless. He digs his head into the ground beneath him, trying to focus on a pair of deep blue eyes, the world growing cold and dark as the blackness creeps in around his vision.

For a while after, time loses all meaning in a haze of darkness and light.

He surfaces, opening his eyes to find himself being carried back through the cavern, the tierna next to him in the bedroll. Voices sound all around him but all he can hear is a dull murmur. Feeling a tightness, Kurt glances down, finding a leather strap drawn tautly across his chest and another over his stomach, an uncomfortable wetness at his back. A hand tightens around his and he looks up to see the face of Elizabeth, knitted with worry, tears dripping onto the blanket that covers him, then blackness.

The next time he comes to, he is in a hut, a thatched roof overhead, the scent of the earth floor permeating the space. A piercing cry of pain comes from somewhere, and he can feel some kind of magic probing his body, like tickling fingers spreading under his skin and seeping into his bones. Just before the blackness takes him again, Elizabeth’s face hovers over his, looking down at him, her eyes red and welled with tears. He tries to reach a hand up for her face, but nothing happens, and he is again swimming in the black void that fills his sight.

Sometime later he hears Elizabeth’s voice nearby, tired and panicked. He tries to move, to look around, desperate to hold her and let her know that he’s okay, but his body seems uncooperative. Even his voice is out of his control. Despite that, he still feels the stabbing pain in his lungs and his stomach. Whatever they did to him, it is intended to immobilize him, not to relieve his pain.

Unable to move, to speak, to locate her in the space around him, Kurt listens silently as long as he can.

“Vasco…I can’t lose him.”

He hears the fear in her voice. Unable to get a look at himself, he begins to wonder how bad he really is.

“Siora knows what she’s doing. Trust her.”

“This is my fault,” she says, her voice trembling, tinged with guilt.

“It’s no one’s fault, de Sardet.”

“Kurt took a bullet for me.”

Her voice is closer, but not close enough. Unable to stay focused with the sharp pain of each stolen breath, Kurt begins to drift again, the faded scent of flowers and herbs filling his nose as he goes under.

When Kurt comes back up from the void, they’re still talking. Or talking again. He has no way of knowing which. Still completely pinned in place with some kind of magic, he listens, helpless to intervene.

“I feel so useless.”

“You are not useless. He needs you. But you should go get some rest.”

“No, I have to be here,” she replies defiantly.

“You’re exhausted.”

“What if he wakes up and I’m not here? Vasco, what if I’m not here and he…”

Vasco sounds tired himself, exasperated. “Stop doing this to yourself.”

For a moment Kurt sinks into unconsciousness again before coming to.

“You can’t keep doing this, de Sardet.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not the one lying there bleeding,” she says, her voice edged with self-loathing and seething anger.

“Kurt is going to need time to heal before we can even consider moving him. Are you going to avoid sleeping all that time?”

“I just don’t know what to do without him, Vasco.”

“You won’t have to find out.”

Kurt listens to Vasco comforting Elizabeth, reassuring her in his gentle way. He almost feels a smile on his lips, his eyelids finally beginning to flutter, letting in flashes of light. He feels a hand gripping his and fingers reaching into his hair and brushing it back from his forehead. Finally opening his eyes, the light floods in blindingly, blurring his vision. As his eyes begin to focus, blinking at the haze, two deep blue eyes stare down at him, tears dropping onto his cheek. He tries to reach up, but his arm is weak and falls limply back to his side.

“Is he going to be alright?” she asks, wiping her tears from his cheek with her thumb.

“He’ll be fine, carants. A clean shot through and through. He was lucky.”

“Speak for yourself…” he gasps, trying to sit up, sending a fresh round of pain through his middle.

“You! Stay put.”

Siora leaves the woman’s side long enough to come to his cot, checking his bandage and pouring an herbal tasting liquid into his mouth before returning to her other patient. Then, Elizabeth is there again staring down into his face, her eyes red and her lips trembling. He slowly reaches up despite the pain, his hand on her cheek, urging her to move closer. As she leans in, he feels her body shake against him as a fresh round of tears track down her cheek.

“I’m okay, Greenblood. It will take a lot more than some dirty spy to kill me.”

“When you closed your eyes and you didn’t answer, I thought I had lost you. What were you thinking?”

He takes a few shallow breaths, each one ripping through him like fire in his lungs. “I didn’t think. I just knew that without you I may as well be dead.”

“Kurt, you are not expendable.”

He caresses her cheek with a sad smile, repaid for his efforts with a shooting pain in his chest. “I’m the definition of expendable,” he replies between gasps.

“Not to me.”

“Was anyone else injured?”

“No.”

Now finding it more and more difficult to speak, “And the Bridge spy?” he asks, his breathing ragged.

“Dead. He won’t be bothering the people of this village again.”

“Good. I believe Burhan has some explaining to do.”

“Yes. Yes, he does.”

He glances over at Siora and asks in a raised whisper, “Will she survive?”

“She will.” Siora places one hand on the tierna's head and the other on her arm, and continues, “They wanted her alive.” She looks in Kurt's direction. “You both need rest now.”

Barely loud enough to hear himself, he whispers, “How long have we been here?”

“Since this morning. You may be out of the woods, but you are not healed enough to go anywhere just yet. Now no more talking, no more trying to move or I will incapacitate you again.”

He slowly nods his head which suddenly feels extremely light, his eyes heavy and closing against his will.

~Elizabeth~

The moment the shot rang out around them, watching as Kurt’s body fell heavily to the ground, Elizabeth felt something break inside her. Everything else faded from existence. There was only her and Kurt, his bleeding shape on the ground beneath her, his name pouring from her lips. Even with her hands pressing over the hole in his abdomen, the blood seeped between her fingers and around her hands and spread out beneath him, soaking into the earth below.

She had vaguely heard Vasco say he would be back, and he was gone before she could begin to process his words while looking down at Kurt, watching him gasp and struggle for air, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. The only thing she knew to do was to keep the pressure on his wound and keep trying to talk to him, so she kept repeating his name and begging him to stay with her.

When Vasco returned with the others, they had removed the leather straps from Kurt’s armor and cinched them around him to slow down the bleeding. Taking her bedroll and laying it out like a stretcher, they moved Kurt and the tierna to carry them back to the village. They both needed medical attention, soon, if they were to have any chance of survival.

Once they had arrived back in the village, Siora took over with Aphra and Ongos assisting, probing their injuries with her magic. Leaving her voglendaig to tend to the tierna, Siora focused on Kurt, pale and unconscious, a grave expression on her face. Once the black gambeson was removed, the seriousness of the situation became evident, his once white undershirt almost entirely red, soaked in his blood.

Trying to stay out of the way, she had hovered around his head, stroking his hair as he would open his eyes and look around, Vasco holding him down while Siora and Aphra worked on him, pained cries tearing from his throat between gasping breaths. Then he went silent, his eyes closing again, looking almost peaceful.

She had tried to remind herself that he was strong, and he had been through worse, but it was so much blood, so much more than she had ever seen one person lose. Perhaps aside from the man they left lying in that meadow with his throat slit in a spray of blood which pooled around him, painting the earth crimson.

Before she had realized that Kurt had managed to put an end to the man, she had seriously considered putting a bullet in his stomach and leaving him there to die slowly, food for whatever creatures might smell the blood and the decay. However, by the time the others showed up, the man was already dead, his hands still clasped at the line slashed across his throat.

Elizabeth glances over Kurt’s body, the blood now washed clean from his torso, bandages wrapped around both of his wounds, eyes closed, he seems at ease. She sits at his bedside, one hand holding his, and the other pushing his raven waves from his eyes, waiting for him to wake.

She begins to drift off, her head falling forward, and she jerks upright again.

“Greenblood, Vasco is right. You need to get some rest.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You try to eat something, and I’ll try to sleep.”

He nods, then groans, grimacing in pain.

She stands to leave but he grips her hand.

“Come here,” he whispers.

She moves closer, leaning in on his good side. Despite the pain he must be feeling, he reaches up to cradle her face, pulling her in and taking her lips in a deep kiss that has her knees threatening to buckle. “Kurt…”

“You’re not going to lose me. Not like this,” he says softly with a gentle shake of his head, holding her gaze steadily.

She nods, her forehead pressed to his, standing and crossing to the door, asking for Siora to come and check on him while Vasco attempts to find something he can eat.

Back by his side, she watches as Siora probes his chest and abdomen, giving him another dose of whatever herbal concoction she makes.

When Vasco enters, he brings a bowl and a skein of water, passing it to Elizabeth after she carefully places a cushion under his head to elevate it. When the bowl is placed next to him Kurt inhales the aroma of the savory soup and attempts to take the spoon from her hand and feed himself, but he is still weak and in too much pain, so she feeds him one spoonful at a time.

“I hate that I am reduced to being cared for like an invalid.”

“Kurt, you will only get stronger if you let us help you.”

He looks up at Vasco, the movement obviously arduous. “Can you make sure she gets some sleep?”

She looks from one of them to the other about to protest, but she made a deal and Kurt held up his end. “I’ll sleep over here. There’s a thick fur rug on the floor.”

They look back at her questioningly, but both nod in defeat. She has her mind made up and there’s no changing it.

“I’ll keep watch for a while so Siora can rest,” Vasco offers.

Elizabeth sits by Kurt’s side, her fingers curling in his hair, until he closes his eyes, and his breathing slows to a normal sleeping rhythm, then she curls up on the thick rug, her fingers threading through the musky fur, and falls into a restless sleep.

When she does finally dream, she watches helplessly as the Bridge spy fires, Kurt’s body blown backwards, falling away behind her. Turning, she is moving too slow, screaming Kurt’s name and watching him die, slowly bleeding out onto the soft, tall grasses of the meadow, unable to reach him or stop it. Then she hears Vasco saying her name over and over, getting louder and louder.

“Wake up, de Sardet!”

Waking to her heart beating like a battering ram against her chest, quick and shallow breaths wracking her body, she jumps to her feet and runs to Kurt’s side.

“Greenblood, what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep, pain and worry, reaching up for her, a twinge in his face with the motion.

She shakes her head. The words are impossible.

“You were screaming my name.”

On the verge of tears, her lips trembling, she finally manages to speak. “I dreamed…that you…”

“Hey, I’m still here,” he cuts her off, squeezing her hand.

Nodding, she replies softly, “I know.”

She wants nothing more than to climb up beside him, hold him, feel him next to her, but every move still makes him wince in pain.

‘I’ll just leave you two alone…” Vasco mutters, stepping through the door, into the early morning light.

“I don’t know how that one slept through all that,” he mutters, glancing over to where the tierna sleeps on her own cot on the opposite side of the hut.

“Siora has her on some potent elixir and magic. Keeping her motionless and sleeping. That…man may not have intended to kill her, but he did a lot of damage. She says her body can heal itself, but she needs rest.”

“You can stop worrying about me, Greenblood. I’m in pain and I’m tired but I’m going to be alright.”

“You put your life in danger for me.”

He takes a deep breath, eliciting a raspy cough, and wheezes instead of sighing, his hand falling away weakly. “And I would do it again. Even if it weren’t my job, which it is.”

“Kurt…”

“This is what they pay me for. Protecting you is the only reason why I’m not stuck back in Serene.”

“I know,” she replies, sinking to the stool next to him, one hand holding his, the other again brushing the raven curls from his eyes. “It’s just that I don’t see why my life is any more important than yours.”

“I…I appreciate that you feel that way, but this is just how it is.”

“Why?”

“That brings back memories.”

She looks at him quizzically.

“Training. You always wanted to know every single reason for every single move. Why do it like this? Why not do it this way?”

“So, it was a chore training a young greenhorn…”

“Honestly, it was sometimes exhausting, but it was also gratifying. I hate to admit it, but I sometimes miss it,” he confesses, a softness to his eyes, that familiar little curl of his lip creating a spark that shoots right into her middle.

“I wanted to know everything about you. I suppose I thought that learning more about training would accomplish that. I was young and foolish.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Greenblood. You always have been.”

Too hard? Or not hard enough? She let herself be manipulated and it almost cost her everything. “Perhaps,” she replies, in an effort to leave off the subject.

“I was wondering…when we return to New Serene, would you let me take you out?”

“Where will you take me, Sir?”

Kurt scoffs at the title, shaking his head. “Where would you like to go?” he asks thoughtfully, his steel blue eyes intently focused on hers.

“With you? Anywhere.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gives him half a smile for only a moment before her face falls. “Kurt, you have to promise me that you will not die for me. Protect me, watch my back, keep me honest. But no trading your life for mine.”

“I can’t promise any such thing.”

“Your job is not to die in my place.”

“We can have a discussion about my duties if you like, your Excellency, and I can guarantee you’re wrong, but it doesn’t matter,” he replies softly, unwaveringly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Why not?”

“Because if my choice is watching you die…or dying for you…”

“That only leaves me with one option.”

He looks up at her with his brows drawn together. “What does that mean?”

“I’ll just have to be sure not get myself into another situation where you feel compelled to make that choice.”

“That would be ideal, Greenblood.”

She leans in and brushes her lips softly against his, her hand caressing one cheek, one thumb pressing into the scar in his eyebrow.

After a moment someone clears their throat behind her. She turns to see Vasco carrying a bowl and another skein. A hearty stew this time. Easing him onto more solid foods.

This time, Kurt insists on sitting up and feeding himself. With some perseverance, he convinces Elizabeth to eat something as well, Vasco quickly leaving and returning with a bowl for her.

Eventually, Siora wanders in, looking the tierna over. First, she checks the wound in her abdomen and then, while Vasco helps to roll her to her side, Siora leans in, carefully pulling back the bandages over the second wound. “The wounds have closed, her skin is healthy,” she says, stepping back and motioning to Vasco to ease her onto her back.

“How long until she wakes?”

Siora turns to look at Elizabeth, still hovering close to the tierna. “I’ve been easing her off of the medicine and the magic should be wearing off soon. How long depends on her.”

“When Kurt is fully healed, we will be returning to Hikmet. Burhan must answer for this.”

“Greenblood, I’m healed.”

“Siora?”

She crosses to his cot, quickly moving his blanket out of the way and peeking under the bandage over his abdomen. “Your wound is still closing, Kurt.” She turns and looks at Elizabeth. “At least one more day.”

Kurt throws his head back in frustration, yanking the blanket back up to his chest.

“I’m not taking the risk of you taking a turn for the worse. Not when you’re so close to being healed.”

“Greenblood, I’ve been stabbed, sliced and beaten and I keep going. Because I have to.”

“Not this time. I can’t stop you from getting up but we’re not leaving until I say so or until she wakes up and asks us to go,” she says, pointing in the direction of the woman in the cot on the opposite side of the space.

Everyone glances over at her watching as she suddenly opens her eyes and grabs Siora's hand, gasping for breath, she rises and lets out a wail of pain. Looking wildly around the room, first at Siora and then focusing on Elizabeth, an expression of malevolence directed at her, tendrils of vines begin to emanate from the floor and walls of the hut, growing larger and longer, stretching out and ensnaring Elizabeth where she stands in the middle of the floor.

Immediately, Kurt is trying to stand, and Elizabeth calls out to Vasco, “Hold him down!” watching to see that he is doing as she asked before glancing back to the threat at hand.

Trying to calm her, Siora steps between them and stammers, "Ná! Stop! She is not your enemy, tierna harh.”

She jumps from the table, shoving Siora aside and stalks over to Elizabeth, already entangled, more vines stretching and creaking, searching for her, crushing and squeezing her so tightly she can barely breathe or speak. Fear grips her as the air is squeezed out of her, the pressure on her chest making it nearly impossible to take in more than shallow breaths that are not enough to satiate the stinging pain in her lungs.

“Why do you keep following me? Leading those lions to our village?”

It takes considerable effort to speak but she is at this woman’s mercy, her loyal guard unable protect her, so she struggles through the words, “We didn’t lead him here. I believed their lies and they used me to find you. The man who attacked you is dead. He can no longer hurt you or your people.”

“Should I thank you, renaigse?” she asks sharply, slightly relaxing the vines that have a stranglehold on Elizabeth allowing her to breathe easier.

After taking a few glorious breaths, she finally replies, “No, you owe me nothing. Siora is the one who saved you. Both of you.”

Now the tierna looks over to where Vasco is still holding a struggling Kurt and muttering at him to stop fighting and relax. She pauses momentarily and releases Elizabeth from the vines that entangle her before continuing, “The remedy you spoke of is not a cure. When we somehow manage to rescue our on ol menawi from the lions claws, they suffer greatly, and this elixir is meant to help them.”

Elizabeth collapses in on herself, despair replacing the hope she had long held for a cure, her anger at being tricked and manipulated deepening. “Is it possible that you could try to create a cure?” she asks hopelessly, her voice cracking, betraying her.

The tierna regards her with a softer look, speaking with a more gentle voice, “The disease you describe is nothing I have ever seen. My people have never taken ill with such a sickness. I don’t know how I would even begin to find a remedy.”

“Could it be your bond to the island? Perhaps that is what protects you,” she asks desperately, hope lost, holding on by a thread.

“It is possible. We are all under the watchful eye of en on mil frichtimen.”

“Who is en on mil frichtimen?”

Siora steps up to Elizabeth, “It means god of a thousand faces. It is he who protects this land.”

The tierna continues, “He is bound to the sin ol menawi as he is bound to you. The renaigse torture his people and pillage his lands. It may be that this malichor is his retribution.”

The thought has never occurred to her before that the malichor might be some terrible vengeance for what the people from the continent have done here, but if this island god is real, it is possible. And if this en on mil frichtimen can create a disease that only afflicts those who his anger is directed at, then surely, he could cure it.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Even with Kurt on the mend, Elizabeth still sees his lifeless body fall with a sickening thump, blood soaking the earth around him, every time she closes her eyes long enough to sleep, as if the images from her dreams are permanently imprinted in her mind. And every time she wakes, she rushes to his side, desperate to see the steel blue in his eyes fixed on hers, to feel his chest rise and fall under her hand. To hear his voice call to her.

“Greenblood…”

Jerking her head up, she realizes she had fallen asleep beside him, her head tucked into her folded arms. A slight crick in her neck from the angle, she raises her hand to soothe the ache, softly asking, “Was I calling out to you again?”

“Not like before.” He takes her hand and holds it, palm to palm, looking at how her slender hand fits into his. “Your voice, you sounded hopeless.”

Folding her fingers down over his hand, she looks down, avoiding his gaze, knowing if she looks into his eyes, she will lose her threadbare grip. “I keep watching you…die. I can’t stop it. I can’t save you. And I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Dreams are powerful things, but they aren’t real,” he says, grunting as he pushes himself into a seated position, his legs hanging over the side of the bed.

Standing, raising herself to his height now, she focuses on their intertwined hands. “What about your dreams?”

“You mean the kind that won’t let you go? The ones you can’t shake?”

She nods her head, eyes closed. Kurt gently tilts her head up, his finger under her chin, thumb tracing a line along her jaw. Leaning into him, her hands against the prickly stubble on each side of his jaw, she presses her lips to his, pulling him closer. When she pulls slightly away, eyes wide open, gasping for a quick breath, she feels a hand slip around her waist, firm against the small of her back, pulling her back in.

“This…is real, Greenblood,” he says, taking her hand and pressing it to his chest, his heart beating steadily under her palm.

Elizabeth holds her hand against his chest even as his hand falls away, her thoughts lingering on how different things would be if the bullet had entered the left side of his body instead of the right, tearing through his heart and leaving a gaping hole in her life where Kurt should be. A stroke of luck, pure chance, is all that stands between this reality and that terrible possibility.

“Whatever you’re imagining right now, it’s not real either.”

“This time.”

Something flickers in his eyes, his brows narrowing. “I’m sorry, Greenblood, I didn’t have time to think. Not that I would do anything differently. I would do it all over again, but…I never thought about what seeing that would do to you,” he mutters apologetically, his face drawn, white knuckled hands gripping the edge of the bed.

“I know. I think I need some distance from this place, time to let the memory fade.”

“Then I need to get out of this bed and on my feet.”

Elizabeth moves to the wall, returning with a length of wood, a walking stick carved with native symbols, animals and plants. “The villagers made it for you. A thank you for stopping that man from killing Mev.”

“On a first name basis now, are we?” he replies, turning the stick in his hands, examining the carvings.

“Not exactly.”

“So, what do you say to accompanying an invalid on a walk?” he asks, standing and putting his weight on his left side, leaning into the walking stick as he limps across the floor.

At his side, ready to catch him if he stumbles, Elizabeth opens the door, watching as Kurt squints in the bright rays of sun that filter down through the canopy above as they step outside. She leads him along the scalloped edge of the water lily pond in front of Mev’s hut, following a path that cuts through the woods.

Keeping the village in their sight, she wanders around a small clearing where wildflowers bloom in the undergrowth swarming with butterflies and bees, occasionally glancing around to locate Kurt. She watches him carefully, sometimes catching him glancing at her, ready to take him back to the hut at the first sign of pain or fatigue.

“When do you plan to head back to Hikmet?” he asks suddenly from close behind her, raising the hair on her neck.

Without turning in his direction, she answers with a sigh, “We’ll leave when you’re able to walk that far.”

“Then let’s go. Tonight,” he mutters, close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin.

She takes a step forward and turns; the distance helps but it’s not enough. “Absolutely not. I’m not dragging you out into the woods risking a run-in with some creature.”

“We’re already days behind.”

“Alright. We’ll leave in the morning. I’ll have words with Burhan and then we’ll take a caravan back to New Serene.”

“Good, because you should check in with Constantin before we head back out.”

“You’re right. He’ll be worried,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

Constantin has escaped her thoughts over the last few days, all of her thoughts and worries reserved for Kurt. But something is wrong with her cousin. Very wrong.

“Are you going to tell him about…”

“About the fact that the Bridge Alliance sent a spy to follow me with orders to kill anyone who got in his way? That you almost died?” she asks, turning away to keep the fresh tears out of his sight.

A pair of large, capable hands firmly but gently grip her shoulders, turning her into his embrace, his arms coming up around her back and holding her unbearably close. “Shhh…” he whispers next to her ear.

“I’m going to tell him everything,” she replies, pressing her face into the curve of his shoulder.

She feels Kurt tap her shoulder, gesturing behind them and turns in time to see Vasco hovering at the edge of the clearing before he walks away.

“It’s getting late, Greenblood. We should head back.”

She takes his free hand, walking beside him as they follow the path back around the pond and to the center of the village, sitting next to each other in the circle, the walking stick resting between them, the cold stones chilling their skin. Soon, though, a villager brings each of them a bowl of soup which begins to warm them back up.

She glances around and sees Siora and Vasco sitting together, each with a bowl in their hands, carrying on a conversation with the villagers who sit near them. Even Petrus and Aphra each take a bowl and sit quietly on opposite sides of the circle, eating greedily without asking what it is, listening politely.

Elizabeth lays her hand gently on the arm of the tierna harh, “Mev, I must apologize for the mess I brought to your village. We’ll be leaving in the morning, and I’ll be headed to Hikmet to get answers.”

“I hope you are able to get the answers you seek, on ol menawi.”

In the morning, she wakes on the rug, lifting her head to see Kurt watching her where he leans against the bed, his head cocked to the side, brows raised.

Her dreams are hazy, but the feelings remain. Among the fear and the pain, a feeling of longing and desire burns through her, sending a heat over her skin, and a flush to her cheeks.

“Was I…talking in my sleep again?”

“Of a sort,” he replies, standing and fidgeting with his black gambeson, the ragged hole over his stomach a terrible reminder.

She stands and moves around to the other side of the bed, eyeing the back of his armor, the hole where the bullet tore out of him, and comes to a decision. Once they arrive back in New Serene, a trip to the blacksmith is in order. If Kurt is going to insist upon putting his neck out for her, she will be sure his neck and…every other part of him, is well protected.

Grabbing both their packs from the floor, she leads him outside, where most of the others are waiting, catching a quick glance from Vasco as they head south, back into the forest and away from the village. Ignoring the look, she keeps pace with Kurt, refusing to let him take his pack as he insists on walking on his own with the occasional help of the walking stick as they mount a small hill here and there.

Siora catches up to them just as they reach the land bridge, crossing the river and back into the forest. “Leaving without me, carants?”

“You of all people know your way around this forest, Siora.”

“True. I suppose we are moving slower than usual,” she says, throwing a quick glance at Kurt.

“I might be moving slow, pretty flower, but my mind is two steps ahead.”

“I can stay with Kurt if the rest of you want to continue on.”

Siora gives her a quick look, her brows raised. “Are you sure?”

“You go ahead to the embassy in Hikmet. We’ll meet you there.”

As Siora, Petrus and Aphra begin to walk faster, taking a strong lead, Vasco hangs back, strolling along beside the two of them, taking Kurt’s pack from her shoulder before she can protest.

“Vasco? Everything okay?”

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you two alone. If something happens…I can help. Or I can go and get the others.”

Elizabeth nods, settling into the silence, finding a calm in the slower pace. For the first time, she really looks around herself, taking in the sounds of insects chirping in the grasses and wings fluttering overhead. The gentle breeze lifts the scent of wildflowers, carrying it on the air, bending the tall grasses in the undergrowth.

As she glances at Kurt, a fine layer of sweat on his brow, she looks around for a place for him to rest. Just a short distance away, she sees a large, felled tree and guides him to it, standing with her arms crossed until he finally takes a seat.

“Greenblood, I’m fine,” he says, looking to Vasco for support.

“Sorry, Kurt, I have to agree with de Sardet on this one. You need to rest. Pushing yourself is only going to make things worse.”

Kurt lifts his skein to his mouth, swallowing several gulps. “I’m not made of glass.”

Elizabeth watches as he begins to shiver though it is barely perceptible. She looks ahead and sees a break in the canopy, realizing how close they are to the edge of the forest. They are close to the city.

“Kurt, we’re close. Let me help you the rest of the way?”

He hesitates at first, then, closing his eyes, he nods, holding out his arm and letting her slip under, helping him to his feet. As they begin to move, Vasco takes up his other side.

“Soldier, you are as stubborn as they come.”

“No, I do believe at least one person outranks me in that regard.”

“After all I’ve done for both of you…” she trails off, the humor suddenly gone from her.

“Too right. You got me grounded.”

Kurt says nothing, but she knows what she did for him. He’ll have two more scars to show for it.

Once they reach the outpost, she helps Kurt through the open doors of the mess and to a bench. She drops her pack and quickly walks out, putting some distance between them. Up the road and around the side of the building, she leans back, her breaths quick and shallow.

“Uh, de Sardet? What was that about?”

“Why did you follow me?”

“Kurt was worried about you,” he says softly, gauging her response.

“I’m fine. I’m just…thinking about how we’re going to get Kurt down this hill.”

Vasco snorts at her, raising his brows. “As Kurt would say, that’s bollocks. What is really going on?”

“You were right back there. I got you grounded, and I got Kurt shot.”

He reaches out and places a hand on each of her shoulders, gently squeezing, saying sternly, “No, I’m not letting you take responsibility for all the world’s problems, de Sardet. You did not get me grounded. And I don’t even mind so much. If not for that, Coble and I…”

“I hope that something good does come out of it, Vasco. But Kurt…” she trails off, trying not to think about the what if, knowing nothing good can come of what happened.

“That is absolutely not your fault. We didn’t know he had another gun.”

“I should have checked.”

Vasco takes a deep breath and exhales heavily. “Kurt should have checked. He knows that. He made a mistake, and it could have cost any one of us our lives.”

She shakes her head, unable to believe the words came from Vasco’s tongue. “How can you say such a thing?” she asks, her voice trembling, with anger, with hurt, jerking away from his grasp.

“Because it’s true, de Sardet. Ask him.”

“He told you this?”

Vasco nods slowly. “When we return to New Serene, we’re going to go over protocol. If I’m going to be one of your guards, I need to know this stuff too. No more half-assing according to Kurt.”

She half smirks at him. It does sound like the sort of thing Kurt would say when he thinks she is out of earshot. “I’m sorry.”

Vasco pulls her in, carefully folding her in his arms. It’s almost like being held by Constantin, all arms and torso, warm and comforting, but not like Kurt. Kurt envelops her with his embrace, like a cocoon she can climb inside.

“Come back and we’ll figure out how to get him to the embassy.”

She nods against his chest, pulling away and following him back to the mess where she sits next to Kurt, pulling her pack into her lap, digging through it until she finds her rations, passing some to him and dropping the pack to the floor.

“Are you okay, Greenblood?”

“Well, de Sardet has identified a small problem,” Vasco interjects, redirecting the conversation. “We’re almost there, but that hill is rather steep.”

“I’m not staying here. I’m going to the palace with you.”

“Kurt, I’m sorry, but how are you going to climb all those stairs?”

He stares at her, defeated, slumping down into the bench next to her. “We could stay in the embassy tonight and go to the palace tomorrow. It’s my job to protect you.”

“I’ll take Aphra. No one is going to attack me. I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Listen, you’re still hurting, and that walk took a lot out of you. I know you’re not going to like this, but I think you should stay here in the outpost. Rest. Eat something. Please?” she asks, her hand on his arm, gently squeezing.

“Is that an order?”

“Does it have to be?”

Kurt shakes his head, sighs and leans back against the table behind him.

“Thank you. I’ll be more clear-headed knowing you’re taking it easy.”

“Go.”

She backs away slowly, keeping her eyes on him until she reaches the road, hesitantly turning and quickly headed toward the city with Vasco on her heels.

“That probably was for the best, de Sardet.”

“Maybe. But maybe he was right. One more night might be all he needs.”

“You and I both know he’s in more pain than he’s allowing us to see.”

She takes a deep breath and sighs, second guessing herself. “I should have waited another day to leave,” she says, looking to Vasco for advice, reassurance, anything.

“No, he needed to get back on his feet. But now, he needs to rest.”

“Thank you, Vasco.”

“Whatever for?”

“For always reassuring me.” She pauses as they approach the gates, the guards waving them on through, and turns to look at him. “We don’t have much time here and I know you want to, so go to the port. See if the ship is there. Find Coble.”

“I’m here for you right now.”

“I know and I appreciate it. But I’ll take Aphra with me to the palace.”

“If Kurt finds out…”

“I’ll tell him I ordered you to.”

He nods with a smirk, giving her arm a gentle squeeze, before tearing off down the street and disappearing around the corner.

When she knocks on the embassy door, Arafam answers, taking her pack and ushering her inside where the others are waiting.

“Don’t get too comfortable. We’re not staying. I’m talking to Burhan and then we’re taking a caravan back to New Serene. Tonight.”

“Carants, where are Kurt and Vasco?”

“Kurt…is resting back at the outpost,” she replies, feeling guilty about forcing him to stay behind. “Vasco is headed for the port.”

“You’re going to see Burhan alone?”

“Actually, Aphra, I hoped you might go with me.”

She hesitates for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Alright. I’ll accompany you.”

“Siora, we’ll be back soon.”

As Elizabeth approaches Burhan in the stuffy court, she sees a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he looks her up and down. He grips the arms of his chair, remaining seated, his voice dripping honey, but a shakiness betrays his uncertainty.

“Your Excellency, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I would be happy to speak at length,” she replies sharply, with a distinct pause, before continuing, “in private.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“Are you sure you want to discuss such matters in front of your courtiers?”

Burhan stands reluctantly, gesturing to a door to the right of his throne, leading Elizabeth and Aphra inside and moving quickly to the opposite side of the room, taking his seat and folding his hands over the top of his desk. He motions to the chairs before them, but Elizabeth holds her ground, enjoying the satisfaction of looking down on the man.

“No, thank you. I only want answers and I will be on my way.”

“Answers?”

“I have done all that you asked. I found your expedition and returned the survivors. And then I went to seek out the tierna harh only to discover you sent a spy to follow me and capture her!”

As she speaks, her voice rises, and she fights to maintain her control. Better not to lose her head before a man like Burhan.

“We had no reason to believe she would help us willingly. And you travel with one of those savages in your own company. I sent a man I could trust to squeeze the information out of her because I could not rely upon you to do it.”

“You used me to capture an innocent woman so your men could torture her.”

“I would never sanction the use of torture…”

She interrupts him brusquely. “Lies. Not only have I seen first-hand the reports of former alchemists who dared to speak out against the methods of their colleagues, I have the confession of the man you sent.”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“The spy you sent nearly killed the tierna, planned to bring her back here to be experimented upon, dissected. And when I intervened, he attempted to kill me. My personal guard is laid up with a gunshot wound from a bullet he took for me!” she yells, slamming her hands on his desk, taking satisfaction in the way he shrinks back from her.

“I knew nothing about that. Deliver him to me and he will be made to answer for it.”

“You will not see him again. He forfeited his life for his crimes and will never be able to harm the tierna or her people again.”

“We still must find this woman. She might be the answer…”

“She knows nothing of the malichor and she has no remedy that will cure or treat it. That road will lead you nowhere.”

Visibly sinking into his chair, Burhan sighs, “I certainly never meant for you to come to danger. Our alliance would suffer greatly. I had such hope and allowed myself to believe in a dangerous man. I hope you will accept my apologies.”

“Sir, if I could prove that you had knowledge of the plot, I would be on my way to write to my uncle this moment. But, as it stands, if you were unaware, then you were blind to what was happening right under your nose and I’m not sure which is worse. Your apologies mean very little at this juncture. Know that we will be watching you."

With that, she lifts her hands from his desk, stands and turns, leaving without a glance back, with Aphra following quietly on her heels as they make their way out of the palace.

“I don’t believe Burhan is accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner. Especially not by a woman.”

“He had better get used to it,” Elizabeth calls over her shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time, hurrying to return to the embassy.

Inside, Petrus and Siora sit on opposite sides of the sitting room, ignoring each other, both glancing up when she steps through the door.

“I want the three of you to wait here for Vasco, then meet me at the outpost. I’m going to go on and wait there with Kurt.”

“Be careful, carants.”

“Be safe.”

Turning, Elizabeth steps through the door and walks briskly down the street and out the gate, ignoring everything as she follows the road back up the hill and into the outpost. Slowing as she reaches the mess, she leans in, peeking around until she spots Kurt with his back to her, his head cradled in his hands.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

As soon as Elizabeth is out of sight, Kurt struggles to his feet, crossing to the open doors and looking after her as she passes out of the outpost and disappears over the hill towards the city. Without her oversight, he wanders around the camp, nosing around in the outbuildings surrounding the mess hall and barracks.

On the far side of the camp, near the tents and officer's barracks, as he pokes around, he quickly discovers the armory, sparsely stocked and unguarded. Not surprising considering the depleted troop numbers after an ongoing war with both the natives and Thélème.

But it is what he uncovers in the pantry behind the mess that has him reeling. A large crate bearing the seal of the blue and silver regiment stocked full of weapons. And not just any weapons. The very same type of weapons he had smuggled from Serene. There is no doubt in his mind they are one and the same.

But why? Why send weapons to Hikmet? What use could Torsten have for them here? Whatever is happening behind the scenes, it’s big. Too big to get Elizabeth or Vasco involved but Manfred is as deep in this as Kurt. He’ll want to know what he has found here.

Feeling the consequences of his exertion, he slowly shuffles back to the mess, passing by a few guards who pay him no mind. Once he makes it back inside, he lowers himself onto the bench at the empty table where his pack leans against Elizabeth’s, nearly toppling it to its side. He rights both of them before settling in, leaning forward, his head drooping onto his folded arms.

After some time, he wakes up, his head swimming with a dull ache. With his elbows resting on the table, Kurt drops his face into his hands, trying not to think about Torsten or crates or anything else.

Suddenly, Elizabeth is there whispering close to his ear, “What are you thinking, Soldier?” shaking him out of his thoughts.

“How did your meeting with Burhan go?”

“Probably as well as you expected,” she replies, sinking onto the bench next to him, her back to the table.

“Let me guess…he didn’t know and he’s terribly sorry?”

“In so many words.”

He looks around for a sign of anyone else but it’s just the two of them. “Where are the others?”

“I…” she begins, hesitating long enough for Kurt to sense she’s holding back, “I sent Vasco to the port while I went to the palace with Aphra.”

“He left you?”

“I gave him no choice.”

With a sigh, his hand grips hers at his side, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. “You can’t go around ordering your guards to leave you,” he says looking down at their intertwined hands.

“Would you have done any differently?”

“No,’ he admits reluctantly, “but I’m not you and you’re not me.”

“Thank the gods for that…” she mutters, glancing around the empty mess hall before she leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “They’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”

While they wait, they share some of his rations, a few pieces of dried meat, some bread and cheese, eating most of what remains. When Elizabeth tosses a chunk of cheese to him, he forgets his healing wound and dips back to catch it, sending a stab of pain from his abdomen up through his chest, a groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t think.”

“Don’t fret. Pain is the body’s way of reminding you you’re alive.”

He hears her breath hitch in her throat as the word alive slips from his tongue, wishing he could have the moment back. Say almost anything else.

“Well, let’s not do that again for a while at any rate.”

“Agreed,” he replies softly, taking refuge in the smile that curls the corners of her mouth.

By the time they’ve finished their rations off, the others come noisily rolling into the mess, Vasco with a smile on his face and a fresh mark on his neck, visible just under the edge of his collar.

“Sailor, you’re looking like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Let’s just get out of here before I turn around and hijack my own ship,” he says, grabbing Kurt’s left arm, helping him to his feet.

Kurt pushes himself away from the table, watching powerlessly as Elizabeth grabs both their packs, and heads out the door of the mess. With the others far ahead, he hobbles on his walking stick, insisting on making it on his own.

On the far side of the outpost, he watches as Elizabeth hires the caravan, climbing up in the back, taking all the bedrolls and laying them out over the floor in a thick pile. Despite his objections, the others all make room for him to lay down comfortably and refuse to give him a turn at watch. Instead, the others take shifts while he sleeps all the way back home.

Once they reach the bridge that leads to the city gate, the rattling rips him out of his sleep as each jerking motion sends an ache through him. After they stop and he lowers himself carefully to the ground, he looks to the east, detecting the faintest hint of light on the horizon.

As they enter the city, he pauses, catching Elizabeth’s arm. “I need to speak with Manfred. No point in going to the house and coming back. I’ll be home soon.”

Elizabeth nods. “Vasco, stay with him?”

“Of course.”

“Greenblood, I don’t need a babysitter,” he protests in vain, knowing she has her mind made up.

“Then we can all stay and wait…”

“Fine,” he relents. “Vasco can stay. The rest of you get back to the house.”

He turns and makes his way, Vasco close on his heels carrying both their packs, to the barracks. As he opens the door, Manfred rushes up to him, looking horrified, making him wonder how much worse he looks than he has even realized.

“Kurt, what happened?”

“Shot. By a damn Bridge spy.”

“I’d hate to see what he looks like!”

“Let’s just say he won’t be shooting anyone else,” Vasco offers, dropping their packs and leaning against the doorframe.

“Listen, Vasco, I have a message from the captain of the guard in Hikmet to deliver. We’ll be in Manfred’s office. You understand, I hope.”

“Of course. I’ll just make myself busy.”

Manfred leads Kurt into the office, offering a chair which he gratefully accepts, gingerly lowering himself into it.

“What message? What’s this about, Kurt?”

“There’s no message. I found one of your crates. It has the blue and silver regiment marking on it and it’s full of weapons. Just like the ones that disappeared.”

“Where?”

Leaning in conspiratorially despite the closed office, Kurt lowers his voice just to be sure their conversation remains private. “In the Hikmet outpost. And it wasn’t in the armory. It was hidden in the pantry behind the mess hall.”

“Why? That makes no sense.”

“If you wanted to hide a crate of weapons where no one would think to look for them, it makes perfect sense.”

“Sure, but why even bother sending it to Hikmet?”

Holding up three fingers, Kurt ticks them off one at a time. “San Matheus, Hikmet, New Serene. Three cities. Three crates. I can almost guarantee one of those crates is stashed somewhere in the barracks here, probably Torsten’s office, and the last one in San Matheus.”

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know. But I will find out. Until then, this stays between you and me. I don’t want Sieglinde to be involved and I don’t trust anyone else. If you hear anything more, send for me immediately.”

“Of course, Kurt.”

As he leaves the office, he gives Vasco a quick head nod towards the door, making moderate progress in that direction, watching as the sailor hefts both bags over his shoulder.

“This would be much quicker if I helped you.”

“Alright. You can help me back to the house.”

“And up the stairs?”

“After breakfast,” he relents.

Avoiding the high street and all the stairs down that way, they move back around near the tavern and down the street, this time the forge a glowing red, the scent of burning coals and metal in the air and the blacksmith’s hammer pounding on the anvil breaking the early morning silence as they pass down the street and into the square.

A few guards watch as the Captain crosses to the gate, a hitch in his step, Vasco supporting him on one side. Instead of waiting for him to close and latch the gate, Kurt shuffles across the cobblestone, so close to home, his bed waiting, exhaustion settling into his bones despite the fact that he had slept all the way from Hikmet.

Inside, he finally leans against the door for a moment, watching Vasco disappear up the stairs with both packs before moving to the empty dining room, taking a seat as Juliet appears in the kitchen doorway with a mug of coffee that she places in front of him.

“Thank you,” he says, taking a generous swig.

“Lady de Sardet told us what happened. Anything you need, you just let us know, Sir.”

“Don’t start that, please. I’m just Kurt.”

She nods and backs out of the room, returning to the stove where she stirs and flips whatever food she is preparing.

A moment later Abigail strolls into the room and he goes through the same song and dance, feeling the exhaustion spread out through his body, his head heavy and unable to hold a thought for long.

Before the others make it back downstairs, Juliet slides a plate in front of him. “Go ahead, you look like you could use it.”

If anything, the sooner he eats, the sooner he can get upstairs and in bed he decides, logic not completely failing him. Quickly devouring a breakfast of eggs, bacon and biscuits, and washing it down with a tall glass of orange juice, he stands, relying more on the walking stick than before, slowly crossing the sitting room and standing at the bottom of the stairs glaring at them like an insurmountable obstacle in his way.

After a moment, Vasco appears at the top step, quickly rushing down to stop him. “Don’t try this on your own for a few days, Soldier.”

“I had no intention of doing any such thing. Just help me up.”

Vasco descends all the way to the bottom, slipping under Kurt’s arm and helping him up one agonizingly slow step at a time, resting at the landing for a moment before reaching the top. After another rest, Kurt manages to make it to his room, unassisted.

Inside, he knocks on the bathroom door, entering when there’s no answer. Water dripping down the sides of the tub and steam on all the mirrors remain from Elizabeth’s bath. Leaning in on the counter, he swipes a hand across the closest mirror, checking his stubble and running a hand through his hair.

“Abigail will refill the bath for you as soon as the water is heated.”

“Greenblood, I appreciate that but, if I get into the bath, I’m unlikely to ever get back out.”

“Then I’ll just have to find a way to tempt you out of it, won’t I?”

The thought alone is tempting. And, despite his fears, if he were able to, he might take her up on it. Near death experiences have a way of changing perspectives. He came close to death’s door. Too close. And knowing he might have died never knowing Elizabeth in that way sparks something within him. A feeling that he can no longer deny is there.

Leaning against the counter as Abigail fills the tub a bucket at a time, he carefully shaves, digs out his soap, a clean cloth and a towel, and places them on the stand beside the tub. Once the last bucket of water is poured in, steam rising around the room and once again fogging all the mirrors and tiles, he carefully peels out of his clothes, dropping the bloodstained shirt into the bin before gingerly lowering himself into the water.

The first he has felt at peace since first waking up in Mev’s hut, he sinks under the water, eyes open, hovering for a moment before surfacing, pushing his hair back over his head and out of his eyes.

A knock on the door has him scrambling to cover himself, “Uh, Greenblood, I’m not dressed for visitors…”

She pushes the door open.

“This is not proper!” he panics, far less concerned about his virtue than hers.

“When have I ever given a toss about what’s proper?”

“Now would be an excellent time to start…”

“Then close your eyes, because, like it or not, I’m coming in,” she says, crossing to lean against the counter behind him.

“Bloody hell!”

“I know you’re exhausted and you’re in pain. Let me help you.”

Glancing back over his shoulder at her, still making a futile effort to cover himself, he asks, “What exactly are you planning to do?”

“Wash your hair. Your back.”

“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“If you really want me to go, I will…” she replies from the far side of the room.

Torn between wanting her to stay and needing her to leave, he hesitates until he hears the sound of her feet on the tiles. Suddenly, nearly desperately, he stammers, “You’re already here.”

The stool scrapes across the tiles behind him and he watches as Elizabeth dips the soap into the water over his stomach, bubbles falling onto his chest as she begins to lather it up with both hands, her arms practically wrapped around him. The instant her fingers stretch over his scalp, working the soap into his hair, he realizes he is done for.

This kind of comfort never existed for him before and already the idea of losing it takes his breath away for a moment. And as she continues massaging his head beyond the length of time necessary, he loses himself in the feeling, eyes closed and head falling back against the rim before jerking back up.

“Greenblood, you have to stop or I’m going to fall asleep right here.”

“Rinse,” is all she says in reply.

Beyond the ability to care anymore, he sinks under the water’s surface, running his hands quickly through his hair and coming up clean, sputtering and pushing the wet hair from his face. “I can take it from here,” he says, reaching over for the cloth but grabbing only towel.

“Sit up.”

Complying, at first, he pulls away but soon finds himself leaning into the sensation of someone else’s hands on him, feeling her fingers gently caress the new scar on his back. As she draws the cloth over his shoulders and chest, he grasps it, pulling it slowly from her hands, finishing up the job but missing the way her hands feel against his skin.

“I’ll just find you something to wear…” she says as she stands and disappears into his room for a moment, the sound of drawers opening and clothes rustling before reappearing and grabbing the towel, holding it out in front of her.

“Greenblood, I am perfectly capable of getting out of this tub.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But I’m not leaving until you’re safely dressed and in bed.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Close your eyes. And keep them closed.”

“I promise, I’m not looking, Kurt.”

He looks up at Elizabeth, finally seeing her with her still damp hair down and curling around her shoulders, checking that her eyes are closed. Pulling the plug, he carefully stands, stepping out onto the rug, and slipping the towel around his waist. As he towels himself dry and begins to dress, he keeps checking to be sure she’s not looking, knowing she always keeps her word.

Once he’s dressed, he grabs the walking stick which is precarious on the wood throughout the house but utterly useless on the smooth tile of the bathroom floor. “Okay, you can open your eyes,” he says as he shuffles through the door and to his bed, falling as heavily as he dares into the mattress, realizing the blanket is already turned down and ready. Moving to the center of the bed, he reaches for the blanket just as Elizabeth pulls it over him, up to his chest. Already, he feels himself beginning to drift, barely able to focus, his eyes flitting around her face.

~Elizabeth~

Sitting on the bed next to Kurt, she brushes the damp curls from his forehead, and, pulling the blanket back down, she pushes his shirt up, revealing the wound in his abdomen. A constant reminder of his selflessness. Leaning in, she grips his face, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling away, only then realizing he is sleeping soundly.

Fixing his shirt and pulling the blanket back up, she reluctantly stands, entering the bathroom and pulling his door firmly closed behind her, standing before a mirror where she begins to pin her hair up into the stuffy braid she hates. Even as she reaches into her wardrobe and pulls out a coat, her thoughts drift to how much she loathes all of it.

One day she can let all of this go. Lose all the pretense and just be, with Kurt by her side. She will find a way. And if she is unable to find a way, she’ll make one.

Shrugging the coat over her shoulders, she darts out her door and down the stairs, following the sounds of the others in the dining room. She seats herself between Siora and Aphra and, before she can take a bite of the breakfast Juliet has placed in front of her, their eyes are all on her, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

“Kurt is sleeping. For now.”

“That’s good. He needs it. But what about you?”

“Vasco, I’ll be fine. I am fine,” she quickly corrects herself, stuffing a biscuit into her mouth to avoid saying more.

“My child, even I know better. You have worn yourself ragged watching over him.”

She stares across the table at Petrus, trying to read him. “I have to speak with Constantin and then I promise I’ll rest.”

“Speaking to your cousin can’t wait?”

“No, Vasco. And, actually, I hoped you would come with me. I don’t want Constantin thinking I’m unprotected.” The last thing she needs is her cousin assigning guards to watch her when Kurt is unsure who can be trusted.

“Of course.”

“I would like to accompany you, if you don’t mind, de Sardet.”

“Alright then, while the three of us are gone, the rest of you listen for Kurt. Don’t let him get out of bed unless completely necessary. And you can tell him that I absolutely forbid him leaving the manor.”

“I’m sure that will fly, de Sardet,” Vasco scoffs, standing from his seat, and grabbing his plate.

“Well, Captain, he will have to get over it because that’s an order.”

She stands and carries her plate to the kitchen where Juliet takes it from her hand with a worried smile. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but please take care of yourself, miss.”

“I’ll come straight back and rest. You all have my word.”

Turning, she steps around a smirking Vasco who is immediately on her heels, following her out into the courtyard with Aphra close behind. Leading them to the gate, she quickly steps through and begins to climb the stairs, considering how something so trivial is keeping Kurt from being able to stand beside her right now.

When she enters the court, Elizabeth recoils at the sight of Constantin, looking even worse than the last time she saw him. His skin pale and blotchy, eyes red and swollen, he still looks as if he has been missing sleep.

Drawing close and speaking low, she mutters, “Constantin, you look unwell. I don’t mean to make myself obnoxious, but I think you should see a doctor.”

“Have no fear, fair cousin, whatever ails me shall pass soon.”

She nods and steps back.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I located the expedition and Burhan has sent one of the researchers with me. He seems to think she might be of use.”

Constantin glances at Aphra for a moment.

“The name is Aphra.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, madam.”

“There is more…We were led by the other members of the expedition to believe that a native healer had a cure for the malichor, but when we found her, we discovered that we had been used, followed by a Bridge spy meant to capture her.”

“My, my…”

“Constantin,” she begins, hesitating, unsure of how to continue, “when I refused to step aside, he attempted to kill me. Kurt stepped between us and saved my life, but…”

“Where is Kurt? Don’t tell me…”

“No, he’s alive. But he was gravely wounded. That is what held us up so long, waiting for him to be healed enough to get back on his feet. And then I returned to Hikmet to confront Burhan.”

His voice rises from his usual exuberance, spitting malignity, "Are you saying that Governor Burhan sent a man to kill you?"

"No," she concedes, "I can't say that with any certainty. He definitely was behind the manipulations, he admitted as much. But he vehemently denied having any involvement in an assassination attempt."

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know. But if he was not involved, he had no idea what his men were up to. And that is just as concerning. If not more so."

Constantin settles into his throne, leaning back and rubbing his temples. "You are absolutely correct. But without any proof, what is to be done about this?"

"We must keep our eye on Burhan. The more I learn about him, the less I trust him."

"You are right, cousin, we must keep a close eye on this Governor Burhan for now."

Back at the house, Elizabeth heads directly upstairs, disappearing into her room as promised. She removes her heavy coat, draping it over the back of the chair at her desk, moving through the bathroom, lightly knocking on Kurt’s door. When she gets no answer, she slips into his room, leaning into his bed, her hand pressing into the mattress beneath her.

She pulls the blanket down, moving his shirt aside, and gently presses the other hand over his heart, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breaths, his heart beating out a steady rhythm. Satisfied, she stands and returns to her room, leaving his door open just this once.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt drifts in and out of sleep no matter how much he tries to fight it, just barely surfacing for a few minutes at a time, blinking against the brightness, before being pulled back under, his eyes fluttering closed involuntarily. When he finally wakes fully, it looks to be around midday so far as he can tell from his position in bed.

Glancing to his left, he sees the door between his room and the bathroom standing open where he is almost certain it had been closed before. No doubt Elizabeth has been in to check on him at some point while he slept. His recollections unreliable, he has vague memories of herbs and wildflowers that still hang in the air around him.

Slowly sitting up, a dull ache coursing through his middle, Kurt throws the blanket aside, pulling his shirt up and inspecting the new scar on his abdomen. Just one of many. At least this one he wears without shame. He runs the tips of his fingers across the puckered flesh, imagining what the one on his back must look like, impressed at how far the healing has come in just a matter of days.

“How are you feeling?”

Quickly tugging his shirt back down, he carefully slides from the middle and hangs his feet over the side of his bed. “Better,” he answers, pushing himself up from the mattress, raising his head to look Elizabeth in the eye.

“You don’t need to hide from me. I’ve seen your scars and they don’t scare me.”

“That’s not…” he trails off, shaking his head unable to explain to her the shame of the pain and humiliation that he carries.

“Whatever you feel about them, it’s not true.”

“Greenblood, that’s kind, but you don’t understand.”

Her brows raise and she speaks almost too softly for him to make out her words. “I don’t understand what it’s like for people to look at me and only see a mark on my skin?”

He watches as her hand instinctively traces the birthmark on her cheek, immediately wishing he could eat his words. “You’re right. That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out for her.

“Kurt, I know nothing of how you got all of those scars, and being born with this,” she mutters, her hand falling away from her face, fingers grasping his as he pulls her closer, “cannot compare.”

His thoughts drift to memories of Elizabeth at court, young ladies jealous of her station and beauty torturing her over that mark. Worse, the young men pretending not to be bothered by it while doing the mental calculations of the odds of their imaginary offspring being cursed with the same mark because of the prospect of an advantageous marriage.

Kurt would watch this with balled fists at his side, unable to step in, Elizabeth ignoring the words and stares from such trifling fools with a quiet grace he has rarely seen in anyone else. Then, in the aftermath, when she was alone in her room, he could hear soft crying through the door.

Always, the day after, she said nothing about it, standing before him with her dignity intact and he left it at that. The woman who stands before him now ever increasingly seems less concerned with dignity and more interested in digging at the marrow, getting to the heart of the matter. She means well. He knows she does. But knowing about his past is a burden he refuses to put on her shoulders.

Instead of saying all this, he focuses on the one thing he can say. “No, you were right. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever known, Greenblood.”

“Brave?” She looks down at their hands, his enveloping hers, hesitating. “I’m far from brave. I’m afraid of losing someone, of failing to find a cure, failing the people of this land...”

“It was Vasco who showed me that it takes courage to act in the face of fear. That everything I thought I knew was wrong.”

“When have you ever been wrong, Kurt?” she asks, her voice soft and teasing, a smile playing on her lips as she raises her head to look into his eyes.

“In training, we were made to fear what would happen to us if we failed more than we feared our enemy. But he taught me that fearing your superiors is not the same as respecting them.”

“You never once trained Constantin and I to think that way.”

“I wasn’t training you to fight an enemy for the crown, but, rather, to defend yourselves. Soldiers are trained to put their lives on the line for the cause. We’re expendable. That was never the case with you two.”

Elizabeth pulls a hand free, reaching up for his face. “You’ve spent too much time letting your past define who you think you are.”

“I’m working on it, Greenblood,” he replies, feeling her fingers lightly brushing against the line of his jaw as it moves with his words.

“As long as you’re doing it for yourself.”

“There’s that grace. Vasco has it. Your mother has it.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets uttering them.

“My mother…” she murmurs through trembling lips, bringing her hand up to her chest and clasping something through her shirt.

“I’m sorry, Greenblood. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

“No, it’s fine, really. It’s not as if I never think about her. Or that I don’t miss her. But I know she’s gone by now and I’m too late.”

For a moment, Kurt hesitates, out of habit or maybe fear, watching as the tears spill from her eyes and run down her cheek. Reaching up, he wipes away the tears with his thumb and, stepping closer, he pulls her in, letting her lose herself in his arms, face pressed into his chest. Her arms gently slip around his sides, hands sliding up his back and something about the two of them holding each other like this feels right. It feels good in a way he rarely allows himself.

“Shhh. It’s alright.”

Pulling away, she mutters, “Kurt, I just wanted you to know that I don’t care about the marks on your body any more than you care about the one on my face.”

“I know you don’t. It’s just not always so easy to remember…”

“Then I’ll keep reminding you until you do.”

“You do that,” he replies softly, pulling her back in, pressing a kiss to her lips, gasping as she pulls away.

Where she once might have pushed him, leaned into him, testing his boundaries, Elizabeth stops just short. At the same time, he feels both grateful and disappointed, almost wishing she would push him over that line knowing he will not cross it on his own but also knowing his body is still healing and not quite ready.

“Juliet should have lunch prepared by now. I’ve asked to have ours brought up to my room. If you would like to join me.”

“Anytime, Greenblood.”

It certainly beats eating alone in his room, so he follows her as she takes his hand, slowly leading him through the bathroom and into her bedroom, gesturing to the chair next to her desk which he gladly takes, seating himself next to her.

Really looking around in daylight for the first time, he sees a large screen between this area of her room and the bed, only the canopy peeking over the top edge. Against the wall behind him stands a large wardrobe, similar to the one in his room, only larger, the door slightly ajar, a few coat sleeves sticking out. Most intriguing is the number of skirts that poke out of the bottom, fine fabrics with beading and lace edging, most of which he recognizes.

On the opposite side of the room stands a dressing table, the top littered in hairpins with a mother of pearl comb off to one side, one drawer open, a long chain spilling out. The mirror reflects Elizabeth’s face back to him, her eyes following his to the silver vase of blue paper flowers.

Kurt glances back at her, marveling at how she keeps her quarters, his own being orderly and clean. This kind of disarray would drive him mad, render him unable to think or do anything until everything is in its place. He chalks it up to years of living in a shared barracks where the only way to keep anything important is by locking it away.

“My apologies for the current state of my room. I’ve been a bit preoccupied this morning.”

“They’re your quarters Greenblood, though I have to admit, it would probably be impossible for me to sleep in here…” He draws a quick breath, stammering, “I uh, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine, Kurt,” she says, standing and moving around, quickly shoving the garments into the wardrobe and closing the door, pushing the chain back into the drawer and pushing it closed, then raking the pins into one hand and dropping them into a bowl sitting on the vanity surface, the metal clinking softly against the porcelain.

As she seats herself next to him, he looks back to the flowers. “I’m surprised you kept those.” He gestures towards the vanity behind him.

Elizabeth glances over, then looks back to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re only paper…” he says, shaking his head dismissively.

“Only?” she asks, standing again and retrieving the vase, placing it on the desk before him. Sitting next to him, she takes his hands in hers. “These hands took perfectly ordinary paper and folded and molded them into something I would love. Simply because I would,” she finishes with a shrug, her hair draped over her shoulders slipping around and falling partially in her face.

Kurt reaches up and slips a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear. “I hate to admit it, but it was Vasco’s idea.”

“I had a feeling, but it doesn’t matter. Vasco isn’t the one who knew that blue is my favorite color. Or that I prefer pie over cake.”

“I should have picked a pie the day we arrived here.”

A soft knock at the door has Elizabeth rising to answer it, returning with a large tray that she slides onto the desk, pushing the vase back against the wall behind it. Removing the covers from both platters, she reveals a meal of grilled fish and vegetables. She looks up at him, a smile on her face, their lunch similar to the dinner Kurt had prepared for them their first night on the island.

He watches as she picks up a bottle from the tray, pouring each of them a glass of wine, pushing one closer to Kurt.

“You sure I should be drinking, Greenblood?” Kurt asks softly, taking a sip, smiling devilishly as the sweet wine rolls over his taste buds.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Captain. I’ll keep you away from the stairs if you have a bit too much to drink.”

“How will you manage that? I’m a good deal stronger than you.”

Elizabeth leans in and presses a wine flavored kiss to his mouth, her lips parted, inviting him in. Kurt twists his lower body, relieving the ache in his middle, feeling her legs slip between his as she moves to the edge of her seat, beckoning him nearer. He knows better but he lets himself inch just a little closer, his hands on his knees but dangerously close to gripping her waist and pulling her into his lap.

Inside, he may be a confused mess of fear and desire, but if she keeps kissing him like this, her lips gently pulling on his, sending this surge of electricity to his frayed nerves, still healing or not, he will yield. Her hand moves to his leg, hot and wanting, sending a clear message.

For a moment, he begins to think that things are about to go further, to cross that line. This is exactly what he wished for, what he thought he wanted, but now he’s not quite sure. When…if they do this, he wants it to be for the right reasons and not because he thinks it might fix what is broken inside him.

He gently, but quickly pulls away. “I’m sorry…” he mutters, casting his eyes down and away.

“No, Kurt, I’m the one who should be sorry. I know this is difficult for you and I’m trying to be patient,” she says softly, turning away and pulling her feet up into her chair, poking disinterestedly at the food on her plate.

“It’s not you. I am decidedly the problem. Before we go down this road, I need to get my head right first.”

“I understand. I meant it when I said I would wait no matter how long it takes. Sometimes…I lose myself in you.”

Kurt, unsure what to make of that, eats in silence, sipping the wine for a while, but eventually tipping it back and finishing it before refilling both their glasses, the mouth of the bottle clinking softly against the rims. By the time he covers the remains of his lunch and pushes the plate aside, he is on his third glass of the heady wine.

He looks to Elizabeth, who faces the window behind the desk, his eyes tracing the contours of her face, knowing that if she kissed him now, he would give in without thinking twice, only to regret it later. Standing, he moves to the far side of her room, picking up a hairpin from the bowl on her dressing table, turning it in his hand and glancing back over his shoulder at her, dark hair hanging in loose waves around her face.

Keeping his distance, he moves towards the door, muttering, “Thank you, for lunch, I think I should…” gesturing to his room on the far side of the bathroom, before slipping through and closing his door behind him. Sinking into his bed, he lays back, arm over his eyes trying not to think until the world goes dark again.

Sometime later, he wakes to a darkening sky outside. Standing, he crosses to his balcony, opening the door and stepping out. Immediately the scent carried on the salty air tells him it’s not night coming on quite yet, but a storm blowing in from the sea, cutting through his shirt and chilling him to the bone.

From his left, he hears the creak of the balcony as Elizabeth steps out. “Why am I not surprised to find you out here?” She approaches and opens his door, ushering him back inside and latching the door just before the rain begins to fall heavy on the glass, drumming against the roof of the manor.

Unsure if he lacks the sense or the temperament to get upset over her dragging him back inside like a child or invalid, he immediately lets it go, rubbing his skin through the shirt, trying to get warm.

“Did anyone build a fire downstairs?”

“Vasco took care of it earlier. I may need to have the upstairs fireplace lit as well tonight.”

“Across the hall?” he asks, already moving toward the door.

From the hall, he enters the common room, turning to the right and kneeling before the fireplace. He straightens the andirons which leaves a layer of soot on his hands, adding logs and kindling, kicking the wood chips aside, ready to get a good fire going when Elizabeth leans in gently, one hand on his back, and creates a burst of fire in her palm, setting the wood ablaze with a flick of her hand and shaking out the embers.

“See? This is why I absolutely can’t teach you to pick a lock, Greenblood. That would render me completely useless.”

She disappears for a minute while he stokes the growing fire, reappearing with a glass of wine in each hand and a damp cloth which she hands over, watching as he cleans away the soot. He looks up at her warily but takes a glass, settling back on the thick rug behind him.

Lowering herself to sit next to him, head resting on his shoulder, she says, “Though you’re not usually much of a drinker, I know you enjoy fine wines. Never let them go to waste.”

“That would be criminal,” he says, lifting the glass to his lips, taking a sip, savoring the flavor.

“Isn’t it strange how we know so much more about each other than I ever realized?”

“Such as?

“You seem to appreciate when I wear blue.”

Of course she noticed. He thinks back to how often she wears blue, usually the least adorned, but most elegant and best fitted garments. Specifically, the soft blue jacket she wears now. But stuck in Kurt’s mind is a pale blue dress, layers of silk fluttering around her as he spins her on the deck under the stars. The first time he kissed her.

Gasping softly, he stammers, “Your eyes, when you wear blue, it…does something to your eyes.”

“You prefer when I leave my hair down.”

“I think that’s a universal thing among men,” he says, reaching down to twist a long strand of her hair between his fingers, the scent of herbs and wildflowers released in a cloud around their heads.

“What about you?”

“What of me?”

“We’ve established that you know my favorite color, and my preferences for dessert, but surely that’s not all you know of me.”

He could fill a book with all the things he has yet to learn about her. But all of that will come in time. For now, he knows everything he needs to know.

“Greenblood, I could pick you out of a crowded room without ever seeing your face or hearing your voice.”

“How?”

“By the scent of your hair, the sound of your steps. As much time as you’ve spent alongside me…”

She pulls a single paper flower out, leaning in and inhaling before pushing it under his nose. “They smell like you.”

He cocks his head at her and inhales. “Describe it to me…”

“It’s fading but I can smell the leather of your gloves, the steel of your blade, polishing oil. And under that, a musky earth tone, how I imagine you would smell if you left everything else behind.”

The fact that she even bothers to imagine his scent along with the way she says musky earth tone sticks in his mind, tripping wires as it finds purchase there.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he lies artfully, unwilling to admit that he has always believed his scent must put her off when compared to the men at court. They always smell of scented soap and hair oils and fragrant tobacco, at least the ones he has been unfortunate to get close enough to.

An arm slips through his, fingers lightly tracing the raised muscle under his shirt. He reaches his left hand over, letting it rest over hers, his thumb gently brushing against her skin.

“Kurt, did you mean what you said?”

“What did I say?”

“When you asked if you could…”

A knock at the door cuts her off but Kurt thinks he knows where she was going. Juliet places a tray on a low table to his left and excuses herself with a conspiratorial smile.

Elizabeth stands to drag the table to the floor in front of them and he grasps her hand, muttering, “I’ve been looking forward to it, Greenblood. How does tomorrow evening sound?”

“Perfect,” she answers, settling back in next to him on the rug, eagerly digging into the roast on her plate.

Kurt watches as she savors each bite, enjoying her soft moans and hums of pleasure. “If everything goes well, you’ll want to plan for formal attire,” he says between mouthfuls.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I have that planned out as well.”

“So, it’s to be a surprise?”

Kurt hesitates, not wanting to get her hopes up in case it all falls apart at his feet. “At least until I know if I’ve managed to pull it off…”

“Kurt, you know that’s not necessary, don’t you? I just want to spend some time with you.”

Covering his plate and pushing it away, Kurt refills his glass, occasionally bringing it to his lips. When he swallows the last of it, he empties the remnants of the bottle into the glass with a smile.

Elizabeth is right about one thing. He hates letting something so fine and rare go to waste. Slipping his arm around her, he holds her close savoring the moment.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

When Kurt wakes, the dull ache in his abdomen hardly registers, little more than an annoyance at this point. Stretching every limb, he feels the slightest twinge but even sitting up and kicking his legs over the side of the bed gives him little to complain about, easily getting up on his feet.

After a quick wash he opens his wardrobe, rifling through the uniforms and pulling out one of the nicest ones, a black captain’s gambeson he’s never worn, which he slips on over a pair of crimson pants. Immediately feeling overdressed when he catches sight of himself in the mirror, he begins tugging at the collar of the coat. dreading having to walk downstairs and through the house risking a run-in with Vasco.

Hoping to get out of the house without being seen, he quickly slips his boots on and hurries to the stairs, easing his way down without issue. The only sound he hears when he reaches the bottom is Juliet in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Taking advantage of the rare moment with no eyes to catch him in a house full of people, Kurt sneaks to the door and slips through quietly.

His plan was to see Lady Morange first, and that is the reason for the way he’s dressed, but with it still so early in the morning, he decides to go to the barracks instead, walking along at a decent pace, a slight hitch in his step when he puts pressure on his right side. A little more time is all he needs, and he’ll be back in top form. Top form for a thirty-five year old coin guard anyway.

In the barracks, Manfred greets him, looking relieved to see him walking on his own. “Kurt, you’re looking smart. What can I do for you?”

Leaning in conspiratorially, he mutters, “I need to borrow a dress uniform for tonight.”

The man looks at him curiously for a long moment before he turns and begins rifling through a cabinet. “What on earth for?” he asks as he pulls out a log sheet.

“Does it matter?”

“You tell me,” he replies, passing the log to him.

Skimming over the page, he sees the space where it asks for the reason the item is being borrowed. With a sigh, he grabs the pen from the desk and begins to fill out the sheet, hoping not to raise too many eyebrows with his excuse of escorting the Legate to a formal function.

Passing it back to Manfred, who whistles appreciably when he reads over the request, he reminds him he needs it delivered already pressed by that afternoon.

“Lucky dog, being favored by the new governor and his cousin.”

If it were almost anyone else, Kurt might have words, but he knows Manfred means nothing by it. Giving him a shrug, Kurt turns and walks back out, heading towards the high street and the home of Lady Morange.

Stairs are still a bit tricky to navigate, but each step seems to get easier and his motion more fluid as he walks along. Even taking his time, he arrives at his destination sooner than he planned, so, for a short while, he leans in against the iron fence in the courtyard, waiting for the sky to lighten enough that he can be certain not to wake the woman.

When he does finally knock and she answers the door herself, Kurt is flummoxed at first, stammering and trying to search for the words he had practiced the day before.

“You are part of Lady de Sardet’s entourage, are you not?”

He nods but stares at her with his mouth open. He had expected a servant to answer and had been completely prepared but now he is thrown off and out of his element.

“What is it that I can do for you?”

“Kurt,” he nearly shouts, his already frayed nerves hanging on by the thinnest thread. “I came to inquire about theater tickets for the Lady de Sardet. For tonight.”

“Tonight? You can’t be serious! They will be completely sold out.”

Deflated, he nods, backing away as he scrambles to come up with a back-up plan. “Of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you…”

“Wait.”

Kurt pauses and crosses his arms properly behind his back, waiting dutifully.

Turning and moving to the desk at the opposite side of the room, she pulls out a sheet of paper and leans over the desktop, a quill pen dipping into the inkwell and the feather dancing around as she pens a scrawling hand across the paper, fanning it in the air as she returns. “They keep a box for me at the theater. Lucky for the Lady de Sardet, I hadn’t planned to use it tonight. Deliver this to the doorman and he will see to it that it is prepared for this evening,” she says, folding the paper and holding it daintily between the fingers of one outstretched hand.

“Thank you, Lady Morange…”

She nods but says nothing more, her eyes certainly scrutinizing him, either trying to figure him out, or, more likely, she already has. He takes the letter, backing out and heading back out to the main square and to the left, down the street towards the main gate, passing by the blacksmith, barely acknowledging the pounding hammer.

Taking a right, he follows a ramp down to the lower street, stopping at the green door of a stone and masonry building which is set into the space at an odd angle, windows on all sides. Stepping inside, he is greeted by a round, short man with a short attitude.

“Sir, are you lost?”

Kurt might ordinarily have a few choice words for the man, but this is for Elizabeth, so he bites his tongue, thrusting the letter into his hand and waiting silently while he reads it over.

Suddenly the man’s tone shifts to something approaching cordiality. “I see. Well, we will be delighted to have the cousin of the new governor as a guest tonight…”

It does not escape his notice that the man referred to her as the cousin of the governor, as if her value is in her connection to Constantin, but he ignores the slight and thanks the man with a bow, taking his leave quickly.

Outside, he balls up his fists, stalking back to the main square and back through the gate, breathing slowly to calm himself before he reaches the door, stepping through and darting up the stairs before anyone has a chance to see him before he reaches his room, quickly changing into something less conspicuous.

When he arrives back downstairs in the dining room, Vasco is the first to notice the change. He suddenly realizes he should have put on another dark coat instead of the blue and silver doublet.

“Where have you been, Kurt? And why the sudden wardrobe change?”

Kurt sits between Vasco and Petrus and smiles across the table at Elizabeth. “Can’t a man have private affairs around here, Sailor?” he asks without breaking their gaze even as Juliet places a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes in front of him.

Leaning in, Vasco replies, “Of course, Soldier,” offering the syrup, but he waves it off.

“Kurt, you look well, how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, pretty flower, but you’re welcome to check me out if it would make either you or the lady of the house happy,” he replies, stuffing a bite of pancake into his mouth, savoring the buttery flavor.

“I’ll do just that after breakfast.”

Looking him square in the eye, de Sardet takes the syrup from Vasco and pours a little on the side as she always does. “After that, you and Vasco are coming with me to the blacksmith.”

“What on earth for?”

“Because, in hindsight, neither of you are properly protected. You are my guards, and you need better armor.”

As both of them open their mouths to protest, she quickly adds, “And I won’t take no for an answer…”

By the time Siora finishes poking and prodding him on the sofa, her magic pulsing through him like massaging fingers, she nods at Elizabeth, satisfied that Kurt is healed enough to get back to work. Just in time too, before they set back out looking for answers.

“Then it’s time we head out to see about proper armor for the two of you,” she says, glancing between him and Vasco.

As he is pulling his shirt back down, sitting up and fastening the buckles on his doublet, a knock at the door has everyone turning in that direction. He watches as Abigail quickly answers it, bringing in a large garment box with a note which Vasco happily takes possession of, attempting to get a peek at what is inside.

Standing, he pulls him aside, muttering, “You’ll see soon enough. Can I just keep this secret for now?”

Vasco nods apologetically handing the box off to Abigail.

“I’ll just take this up to your room and air it out then,” she says as she disappears up the stairs.

“Look, Kurt, I didn’t mean anything…I don’t want…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Really. I just want it to be a surprise,” he says quietly, glancing at de Sardet where she still stands behind the sofa watching him carefully.

Kurt heads up to his room, finding the uniform hanging from the canopy of his bed. The gray wool coat bears the insignia of the blue and silver regiment on the right arm, a captain’s mark on the lapel, sliver buttons down the front and on each cuff. Under the coat, the usual blue pants are pressed perfectly. Even the black boots are polished and shining standing on the floor next to the bed.

Reaching into his wardrobe, Kurt fishes out the slightly worn black gambeson Abigail had put away that morning, taking a closer look at it for the first time. Threading a finger through each hole and bringing them together in the middle, he suddenly realizes how far the bullet traveled through his body and how fortunate he truly was that it was a mostly clean shot.

More so, how lucky he was that the man who shot him was left-handed. Had he pulled the gun in his right hand, Kurt is doubtful he would still be breathing, and certainly not standing here now. All due to a stupid mistake he never should have made. He knows better. Always check for hidden weapons. Always.

His anger and lack of focus could have gotten him killed. Or worse. So much worse.

His breath hitching in his throat, Kurt closes his eyes, clenching his jaw and letting his head drop forward against the wood, making a sharp cracking sound. He breathes in through his nose and exhales through his mouth, trying to calm himself but only one thought brings him peace.

“It will never happen again.”

Standing upright, he carries the gambeson with him, heading to Vasco’s room, knocking softly on the door.

When he answers with a scowl, Kurt reminds him, ‘You walk sternly.”

“Right.” Turning back to his wardrobe, Vasco asks, “Will this do for the blacksmith?” holding out a coat identical to the one he wears, except that the color is a much darker gray, and shoving it in Kurt’s face.

“You want to put armor on your coat?”

‘I wouldn’t say I want to, Soldier, but it’s not as if I have any other options.”

Kurt nods and shrugs his shoulders. “It should do fine.”

“Vasco, Kurt, you’re with me.” She turns to the others and continues, “The rest of you should all take the rest of the day off.”

Petrus bows and grips the door handle. “In that case, I think I will check in at the embassy. See what I can learn there.”

Kurt watches as the priest disappears through the door, still reluctant to trust him. If the Bridge Alliance is willing to send spies to follow them, there is no reason why Thélème would draw a line at sending a traitor into their midst.

As Aphra steps around him, grazing his back as she passes, she pulls a cap over her braided hair and slips out the door, Elizabeth on her heels with Kurt and Vasco close behind.

“Greenblood…”

“Not a word. From either of you. You can either come along and choose your armor or stay here and I will choose for you.”

Vasco looks at him and shrugs, following Elizabeth through the gate, Kurt watching as Aphra crosses the square and enters the Bridge Alliance embassy.

Heading off to the east, they take the main street directly to the forge where the smith hammers out red hot pieces of armor. They watch for a while, letting the man work without interruptions until a younger man taps his shoulder, pointing at the three of them standing behind him.

After he places his work safely aside, he turns, his brows raised under a mop of light brown hair that falls almost to his eyes. “Name is Arot. Can I help you?”

“I’m de Sardet, legate to the Congregation, and these are my guards. As you can see, their current armor…leaves something to be desired.”

He glances from one to the other. “Yes, I see. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you come up with, it needs to be light, mobile and made to stop a projectile. The rest is between the three of you.”

Vasco steps up first with his extra coat talking to the smith about the logistics of adding armor plates in such a way that the coat can still be buckled properly without being too bulky or too heavy but also without the armor being completely useless. The man takes it as a challenge, the wheels already turning in his head at the possibilities.

When his turn comes, Kurt points out the weaknesses in his current armor, quietly explaining the injury that set Elizabeth out on this mission to get them properly armored up in the first place. By the time he finishes, the man quotes a price, and they leave, Elizabeth short some gold for a deposit and them without their coats.

As they pass through the arch back into the square, Kurt stops and mutters, “Greenblood…”

“No, I will not accept any gold from either of you. Yes, I can afford this. You know I can. And I can always get Constantin to reimburse me from the treasury.”

Kurt shakes his head with half a smile. “I was going to say that I need to stop in the market district…”

“Why don’t you go on back to the house, de Sardet. I’ll stay with Kurt.”

“I’m not in need of babysitting, Vasco.”

“Did I say that? I just thought I might be helpful.”

“Fine. Go on without us,” he says standing off to one side of the square, watching closely until Elizabeth passes safely through the gate and out of his sight.

“So, what’s this big secret?”

“Quiet grace my arse…” Kurt mutters as he stalks down the street, heading south in the direction of the open market, the scent of fresh baked breads wafting around them.

“What are you talking about?”

“Forget it.”

“What are we doing here anyway?”

Sighing heavily, Kurt turns to him and quickly stammers, “With the cook having the rest of the day off, I’m making dinner for de Sardet.”

He expected a little ribbing, but Vasco simply looks at him, amused and slightly intrigued.

“Can I help?”

“Is there nothing else you would rather do?”

He glances further south to the port, Kurt following his gaze, not a ship in sight. Sighing softly, he replies. “Not really.”

Kurt places a hand on Vasco’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shake. “Sure, I’d love some help,” he replies as he begins to pick out the best offerings in the produce section, showing Vasco how to pick the perfect fruit and vegetables.

Back at the house, Kurt carries his armload of groceries to the kitchen, pushing them all up on the counter and returning to the sitting room, stripping his doublet off and draping it over the back of the sofa. Vasco copies every move, down to slipping his coat and hat off and hanging them on the hooks by the door before following him back to the kitchen.

Quickly getting a fire going in the oven, Kurt begins to prepare the food for cooking, with Vasco stepping up next to him following his lead.

“Why don’t you go to the cellar and choose a wine?”

“That I can do,” Vasco replies, disappearing through the small door on the opposite wall.

A few curses later and he hears the door open and close, turning to see Vasco standing to his left with a bottle in his hand and cobwebs in his hair. That is when Kurt realizes he forgot to mention how dark and creepy the cellar can be.

Avoiding the subject, Kurt asks, “Do you cook, Sailor?”

“Not often,” he admits, furiously wiping the cobwebs away. “On the ship, of course, we have Solomon who does all the cooking. You were right about that.”

Kurt passes a knife to the man and shows him how to slice and dice. “What about when you’re not on the ship?”

“In a city like the ones here, where we have complete authority over the ports, everything is comped,” he replies, working studiously at his task.

“Everything?”

“Well, beds, meals, even liquor I suppose if that’s what you choose to do with your…Ouch! shore leave allowance. And most of the rooms come with naught but a bed so there’s no choice but to eat in the tavern.”

Kurt glances over to check and make sure the sailor still has all his digits. “What do you usually do when you’re stuck in port?” Satisfied, he goes back to his own preoccupation.

After rinsing the cuts of meat, he selected at the butcher, Kurt rubs various spices in, Vasco next to him, watching curiously as he places the cuts in a large pan and covers them with a cloth, pushing them aside while he gets the vegetables started.

“Uh, being captain, I’m entitled to a private room, and I sometimes take one. Especially the first and last night on leave when I don’t want the noise keeping me up all night. But I usually choose to stay in the bunkhouse with the crew.”

“I suppose that’s a thing of the past now,” Kurt suggests, checking the oven and the stovetop before he begins to start simmering and searing everything.

“Well…” Vasco says gesturing around the kitchen.

“I mean, once you get your ship back. I suppose you’ll be spending more time with a certain red-headed navigator, won’t you?”

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about that. It may be some time before the Admiral reinstates me. I’m sure I’ll have to prove myself to her first.”

“How?” he asks, wondering how anyone could ever doubt the man in the first place.

“Some test of my loyalty to the guild. When she feels that I’ve earned the privilege.”

Kurt removes the cloth from the pan and slips it carefully into the oven, turning his attention to the pots on top of the stove. “What happened to putting honor before blind loyalty? That is what got the Guard into the mess we’re now in. This ghost camp business, silver coins, Egon…”

“I’m sure you’ll get it sorted, Soldier. And you know you can count on me and de Sardet to help,” Vasco says, leaning in and watching as Kurt stirs the various contents.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighs and admits, “I don’t even know where to begin. I have Manfred and a few others I trust listening and watching for anything suspect, but nothing so far.”

“When you do root out the corruption, your men are going to need someone to follow.”

Kurt scoffs, shaking his head. “Someone other than me, Vasco.”

“Kurt, you’re a good and honorable man. Why not you?”

“They resent me. They always have. They won’t follow someone like me,” he replies, stepping back from the oven, opening the door and checking the meat.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean, someone like you?”

Turning, he leans against the counter, hands gripping the edge, trying to find the words. As a Naut, a family closer than some related by blood, Vasco has never seen the bitter jealousy that makes one brother resent another.

“Being a palace guard is bad enough, but being the personal guard of two very important nobles? The privileges and perks that come with that kind of position?” he asks, stirring the contents of each pot carefully.

“You earned that.”

“How? By not dying next to my comrades? It’s not like the Nauts who earn their titles by study and hard work. In the Guard, you survive long enough and they start handing out titles like candy because it helps build morale with the recruits.”

Vasco stares back at him, brows drawn down in the middle. “I’ve never met a Guard who deserved his title more than you,” he replies softly, angry for him, defensive.

“I appreciate that, I do, but it changes nothing. The recruits might respect me on principle, but the other officers…forget it.” Checking the oven, he flips each cut of meat, and then stands, removing the pots from the stove, shrugging. “What are you doing after this?”

“I had thought about going to the port tavern but…I’ll likely read for a while and retire early.”

“You should have dinner with us.”

“Absolutely not!” he exclaims, shaking his head rather vigorously.

“Kurt is right. Join us.”

They both turn to see Elizabeth leaning against the doorframe.

“I appreciate the offer and the sincerity with which it was extended, but I must decline.”

“Vasco…”

“Not even if you order me to. I have the night off, remember?”

Kurt sighs softly, giving in. “At least make yourself a plate, Sailor,” he replies, pulling the pan from the oven and setting it aside.

“That I can do, but I think I’ll take something to Siora first,” he says, grabbing a plate and spooning out some portions, grabbing a fork and a glass of wine and disappearing to the sitting room, the sound of his boots pounding up the stairs.

Elizabeth sighs, her shoulders dropping.

“You can’t force him to stay, Greenblood.”

"I know.”

She seems like she is about to say more when there is an almost hesitant knock at the door.

“I’ll go and see who that is,” he says with a quick kiss to her temple, squeezing by and moving around the table.

When he opens the door, he forces himself to suppress an amused chuckle, but a big stupid grin still spreads across his face. “Fancy meeting you here. You’re just in time for dinner,” he says, opening the door wider, a clear invitation. Taking her coat as she peels it off, Kurt closes the door just as a pair of boots on the stairs suddenly switch from their familiar pounding to a slow stunted pace.

As Vasco reaches the bottom of the stairs, he gasps, speechless for a moment.

“Maeve, what are you doing here?” he finally manages to stammer out, drawing closer with every word.

“I think I was just invited to dinner…”

“Not here,” he replies with a shake of his head, “I mean in New Serene.”

“We were supposed to stay longer in Hikmet, but Ruben, he insisted we leave early. As soon as we landed here, he handed off the manifest, hit the dock and headed into the city.”

“That’s odd. Even for him.”

Coble glances around the room, her cheeks blushing slightly. “If I’m in the way, I can go. I just thought I would surprise you this time…”

“Not at all. Please stay.”

“Vasco, care to have dinner with the three of us?”

He gives Kurt a look and mouths silently to shut his mouth as he follows behind Coble to the dining room, pulling out a chair for her on one side of the table with Kurt pulling out the opposite chair for Elizabeth.

With Vasco on his heels, he strolls into the kitchen, immediately being interrogated by the man.

“Did you know she was going to be here?”

“Of course not. I was laid up while we were in Hikmet, remember?”

“It just…feels too good to be true.”

“I feel the same damn way every day,” Kurt mutters, casting a glance over his shoulder at Elizabeth, watching as she throws her head back and laughs at whatever Coble had just said.

“Enjoy it while it lasts?”

“That’s all you can do,” he replies, gripping the man’s shoulder for a moment before he portions out the rest of the meat and sides onto the four plates before him.

Each of them picks up two plates, placing them on opposite sides of the table, Vasco quickly grabbing silverware for each of them and seating himself next to Coble. Kurt returns to the kitchen for four glasses and the bottle of wine Vasco selected earlier, placing a glass before each place setting, carefully pouring the wine and sitting next to Elizabeth.

“Siora?” Elizabeth asks Vasco.

Shaking his head, he replies, “I think she’s missing her mother. She seems to want to be alone for now.”

Coble immediately begins to shove food into her mouth, stopping only long enough to glance around and ask, “So, who cooked this amazing dinner?”

“Kurt and Vasco are apparently both very talented men,” Elizabeth says, gently teasing as she takes a bite, savoring it with a soft hum.

“Kurt,” Vasco corrects her. “Kurt is the one who did everything. I merely watched.”

“Come on. You helped me with shopping, you diced the hell out of your fingers, kept me good company. And you did choose the wine. I have no sense for that kind of thing.”

Elizabeth visibly shudders next to him. “I’m glad it was you this time. I hate going down into the cellar.”

“I’ll protect you from those tiny spiders next time my lady.”

“It’s not the spiders so much as the webs…they get in your hair and cling to you, and it’s cold and dark down there.”

Kurt grips her hand under the table, squeezing gently. “I’ll protect you from the cold and the dark too, then.”

“You two are adorable together!” Coble exclaims with a wide smile, revealing tiny laugh lines that only enhance the handsomeness of her face.

The hand in his squeezes back, gently threading their fingers together. With his free hand, he brings his glass to his lips, letting the sweet wine flood his mouth.

By the time he empties the bottle into their glasses, they’ve all slowed and are simply pushing the food around their plates as the conversation dances between them. Standing, Kurt begins to pick up plates and forks, carrying them to the kitchen and getting the wash started, occasionally pausing to ask or answer a question from the others.

When he finishes, he lifts a box from the counter and carries it into the dining room, untying the brown string that holds it closed. “I know that cake is probably a more standard dessert, but Greenblood here has an affinity for pie, so…” he begins, lifting the lemon pie from the box and setting it in the middle of the table, placing a plate before each of them.

Taking the serving knife, he cuts and serves a slice on each plate, leaving himself for last. Lifting his fork, he cuts off a large bite, using his finger to pick up the flaky crumbs that fall from the crust and slipping them into his mouth. With an explosion of flavor in his mouth, salty, buttery, sweet and tart, he shakes his head and bumps his elbow into Elizabeth next to him with a grin.

“What do you say to the four of us going to the port tavern after this?”

“Oh, Kurt has some kind of plan set up for the two of them tonight, but he refuses to tell anyone what it is.”

“I’m taking Greenblood here to the theater. Lady Morange loaned me her box for the evening which means there is more than enough room for you to join us.”

“Kurt! It’s been so long since I went to the theater!”

“We couldn’t impose,” Vasco replies softly, obviously disappointed.

“You can and you will! I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I appreciate that, de Sardet, but I literally have nothing to wear. Not a single dress to my name.”

Elizabeth pushes the empty plate away and jumps to her feet, circling the table and grabbing Coble’s hand, pulling her up next to her. “I have just the thing! Come with me!”

Coble casts a glance back over her shoulder at Vasco but follows Elizabeth up the stairs.

“What is happening?”

“You’re going to the theater tonight,” Kurt replies as he begins carrying glasses and plates back to the kitchen and finishing the wash.

Vasco steps up next to him, rinsing and drying and putting each dish away. “I did bring my formal dress uniform just in case I needed it. I suppose it will do.”

Kurt claps him on the shoulder, stepping back and leaving him to finish drying the dishes and putting them away while he makes his way to his room.

First knocking softly on the bathroom door, he enters and is relieved to find the other door closed. Locking it, he steps up to the cabinet, spreading the mint-scented lather over his skin and giving himself a clean shave, his face tingling and feeling strange with no stubble. After cleaning up, he unlocks the door and slips back into his own room, locking his own door behind him, not wanting an audience for what he’s about to do.

Staring at the uniform with a shake of his head, he begins to dress, pulling out a new white shirt from the wardrobe. Kurt slips on the coat, buckling it properly, before sliding his feet into the shiny black boots. Standing before the mirror inside the wardroom door, he runs his fingers through his hair, adjusting the coat and staring at himself doubtfully.

Even for promotions he’s never had occasion to dress this formally and he feels out of his element, an imposter pretending to be a gentleman. In truth, he’s merely a thief stealing a night with a woman wholly out of his league.

For a moment, he considers changing into the black gambeson. It may not be appropriate, but at least he feels less ostentatious, more himself. Not a fraud pretending to be something he’s not. With a sigh, he closes the wardrobe door and leaves the room, crossing the hall and knocking softly on Vasco’s door, preparing himself for the ribbing of his life.

As Vasco cracks the door open, obviously hiding behind it, his eyes widen. “Goodness, Kurt, I can’t say I’ve ever seen a soldier looking quite so…dashing.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m changing.”

Vasco’s hand darts out and jerks him through the crack in the doorway, closing it behind him. “Oh, no you’re not. You roped me into this and you’re not leaving me to suffer alone.”

Kurt looks the man up and down. Of the two of them, Vasco is certainly the most elegant and refined in his white coat, blue stitching at the lapel and cuffs, and embroidery at the hem, smoke-colored wool tricorne atop his head. Kurt smirks at the silver cufflinks, unsurprisingly a pair of anchors.

Vasco steps up and tugs on his lapel, folding it down properly, and generally adjusting the feel and look of the coat until Kurt begins to relax into it. Under the steady gaze of the sailor, he finds himself feeling less like an imposter who got damn lucky and more like a man of some worth.

“Vasco, it’s not easy for me to say this, but I’m damn glad you’re here tonight. I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

“If not for you and de Sardet getting me grounded…” he trails off with a wicked smile. “Well, thank you for ruining my life.”

Kurt snorts and turns for the door, Vasco close on his heels as they take the stairs back down. He passes into the dining room, taking what remains of the pie and slipping it back in the box, placing it on the counter in the kitchen.

When he reaches the door he stops in his tracks, Vasco audibly gasps from behind him.

Dramatic, but warranted.

Because the woman standing in the middle of the sitting room is one of the loveliest Kurt has ever laid eyes on, though he would never admit that to Elizabeth. Coble, simple but elegant, with her head held high in a rather pretty emerald green and silvery white layered chiffon dress.

Her hair, still a wild and unruly mess of copper curls, is pinned up in such a way that it simultaneously looks like an accident and a calculated design, as if those red coils are only waiting for a chance to escape, one or two locks already breaking loose around her face.

“Maeve…you look…there are no words…” Vasco stammers, taking a step closer and freezing on the spot.

She slowly dips and grips the hem pulling it up just enough to show off her old boots with a coy smile. “I won’t let it go to my head, Captain.”

When Elizabeth finally appears on the stairs, Kurt eats his words as she descends in a sea of silk taffeta, deep blue layered over black, beaded around the entire hem, gathered at the hips on each side and cinched in around her waist, the beaded bodice giving just the slightest encouragement at the bust. Little tendrils of curling locks fall around her face, her hair swept up in a loose almost messy twist off her shoulders.

Rushing to the bottom of the stairs, Kurt takes the black wool cloak from her arm and holds it out before him as she slips into it, taking his left arm as he leads her to the door. Behind them, Vasco helps Coble with another cloak, this one a bold red wool he had never even seen Elizabeth wear before.

As they step out into the courtyard, Kurt imagines that under the darkening sky, if one were to squint, he might think the four of them belonged to some high society, Elizabeth’s grace elevating them all as they pass through the gate and into the square. Kurt glances up at the likeness of the prince as the pass, only half wondering what he would say or do if he had the slightest idea about everything that has happened with Elizabeth since they left Old Serene.

Would he be wrong?

Kurt still struggles to reconcile his feelings for Elizabeth with not only his past, but also the history shared between them. He glances back as they pass the cooling forge which casts a warm glow over all of them.

The closer they get to the theater, the more his stomach turns, the more certain he becomes that someone is just about to catch him playing the gentleman, escorting a lady on his arm as if they have any business being together. But no one stops him as they enter. No one even seems to take much notice of his presence.

The squat doorman does recognize him, quickly understanding that the lady on his arm is none other than the Lady de Sardet. Kurt grits his teeth at the man, prepared to correct him now that the lady in question is in attendance.

“Ah, Lady de Sardet,” he says, bowing just a little too long and deep. “We are greatly honored to host such an esteemed patron. And who might you be?”

Elizabeth quickly speaks up, “Captain Warner, my escort. And this is the Lady Coble, my guest for the evening, and her escort, Captain Vasco of the Nauts.”

Kurt barely manages to keep a straight face when she introduces him as Captain Warner. A conversation they had months ago on the deck of the ship crests in his mind, his casual mention of Rose. Yet she remembered. Remembered and honored the woman in a way he himself never has.

When the doorman turns his back, Kurt brushes his thumb against the hand around his arm as they follow up the stairs and to the second floor. He watches as the men who loiter around look at the two women with clear ideas in their minds. Kurt turns his back, giving them a clear view of his claymore, his open hand stretching before balling into a fist at his side.

The man leads them on around the curved area, opening the last curtain and ushering them through. He pours a glass of wine for each of the ladies and excuses himself, disappearing through pitch black curtain, his footsteps trailing away and down the stairs.

Kurt leads Elizabeth to the two black upholstered chairs in front, seating himself to her left, his right hand resting over hers. Vasco steps up and draws the red interior curtain back, revealing the rest of the theater, a sea of black and red below, the orchestra practicing in a cacophony of inharmonious sounds.

With Vasco and Coble talking softly behind them, Kurt turns to Elizabeth and whispers, “Greenblood, what you said back there…”

“I’m sorry, I panicked knowing I couldn’t introduce you as Captain Kurt.”

Not quite sure what she means by that, he lets it go and continues, “I was surprised, but it’s alright.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would be happy about it, I should have asked.”

“Rose…she would be honored. I should have taken her name a long time ago,” he replies softly, in a surprised tone, only now realizing the truth of it.

The house lights dim to the point where he can see nothing but the lighted red curtain concealing the stage, the orchestra going silent as a tall man in a tall black hat that further exaggerates his height takes the stage with a grand bow.

“Ladies and Lords, tonight, for your viewing pleasure, the New Serene Theater presents one of the Bard’s most loved comedies, As You Like It,” he says in a booming voice, leading the audience in applause as he exits the stage to the left.

When the curtain rises, Kurt turns his attention on Elizabeth, only picking up parts of the action, more focused on her face. He remembers the story, remembers her dropping the book outside his cabin door. Now he watches her as she watches the actors on stage, playing their parts.

When she laughs, she glances over at him, catching his gaze, squeezing his hand before shifting her eyes back to the stage, holding her until the players bow and the curtain falls.

With one swift hand, he reaches out and sweeps the inner curtain closed, pulling her close and brushing his lips softly against hers, whispering, “I couldn’t wait until we get home…”

Kurt takes her hand and leads her out of the box and down the stairs, Vasco and Coble close behind them. Nearly at a run, they pass down the side of the building and cut back up to the square, crashing into the gate before he can get it open.

Back at the house, Elizabeth takes Coble’s hand, pulling her inside and beckoning her, “Please, come in and stay.”

“I have to get out of this dress at some point anyway, so I’ll stay for a while.”

Continuing to pull her along, Elizabeth sits on the sofa, pulling Coble down next to her, leaving Vasco and Kurt to each choose a chair.

Before he sits, Kurt makes his way to the kitchen and into the cellar, grabbing the first bottle of wine he sees in the dim room, returning to the sitting room with four wine glasses.

“Goodness, Kurt, that is a rather nice wine,” Elizabeth teases, eagerly taking a glass.

While the others talk, he continues to glance over at her, the blue and black layers of fabric billowing around her, moving when she moves, rendering her eyes impossibly dark, like the night sky.

After only one glass, Coble stands and mutters, “I suppose I should be getting changed and heading back to port,” slowly making her way around the sofa and heading upstairs.

Once she is out of earshot, de Sardet stares daggers at the Naut Captain. “Vasco, your room and your bed are yours to do as you wish. You’re a fool if you don’t follow that woman and help her get out of that dress…”

He stares at her for a moment before he jumps up and darts up the stairs, his feet pounding all the way up to Elizabeth’s room. They hear a knock and a muffled answer before two sets of boots are dashing across the hall and into Vasco’s room, his door slamming into the wall before being softly closed.

Kurt stands and moves over to the sofa next to her, propping his feet on a nearby stool. She moves in closer and leans her head on his shoulder, both of them watching the fire, the flames dancing and casting shadows around the room.

“That was a good thing you did, Greenblood. I like Coble.”

“I like her too. She’s good for him in a lot of ways.”

“We should probably finish this bottle…give them some time, before we head up,” he stammers suggestively. With his room sharing a wall with Vasco’s, that’s the last thing he needs.

“I’m happy right where I am, though I am going to have to get out of this eventually,” she says, gesturing to the dress hugging her frame.

He passes the bottle to her, and they drink quietly, forgetting about their empty glasses, until she falls asleep on his shoulder. Listening until the muffled sounds from upstairs go silent, he finally taps Elizabeth’s shoulder, gently waking her.

“I think it’s quiet up there. You really should get changed out of this dress.”

She stretches and yawns next to him, finally waking enough to feel a slight embarrassment, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Mmmm, right. Come on, then.”

She moves toward the stairs, and he follows after putting the gate in front of the fireplace.

At her door, she pulls Kurt inside, peeling the top of the dress down to his surprise. Turning away, she half-whines, “Can you help me with this stay, please?”

Swallowing dryly, he pulls the knot and then begins to loosen the lashings to the point where she can slip out.

Elizabeth turns back to face him, holding the stay to her breast with one hand and holding the dress up with the other, blue and black layers fluttering around her body, her hair beginning to fall loose around her shoulders.

Backing away, Kurt whispers, “Goodnight, Greenblood…” before tearing through the bathroom, closing his door and falling back against it in a heap.

Heated, Kurt begins to tear at the coat suffocating him now. Kicking the boots off and stripping down until he is staring at himself in the mirror, a sea of white lines against slightly darker unblemished skin. Quickly pulling on a light pair of pants, he hides away the vestige of his shame.

Burned into his mind, Elizabeth standing there, barely covered, moonlight dripping over her skin, that image is going to stay with him for a very, very long time.

Chapter Text

~Vasco~

Waking early, a red sea of citrus-scented curls floating around his face, tickling his nose, Vasco darts his eyes at the space around him before remembering where he is. Not in a dusty tavern, on an uncomfortable, cramped and creaky bed, but in his own room, with clean linens and a spacious, soft mattress, the woman of his dreams curled up next to him.

Strange how she was right there all along and his stubborn pride kept him from looking close enough.

He glances at the floor to the gossamer layers of fabric in a heap by the door. Always beautiful, Coble was stunning in the emerald and silvery gown, her hair swept up wildly about her head. Every man they passed took notice, her hand squeezing his arm reassuringly at every step, but he had the honor of escorting her home and liberating her in a frenzy.

Looking at her now, with one hand he sweeps the copper locks away revealing the freckled nose and fair cheeks of his lover, curled soft and warm against his skin. In no hurry to start the day, he presses in close to her back as she rolls to her side, pulling the blanket up higher and tucking it close around them.

If he could, he would sleep, or at least doze, but his thoughts only keep returning to last night, turning the events over and over in his mind.

Watching Coble climb the stairs, he had wanted to follow her up but decided he would walk her back to the port instead, hoping she would invite him to stay for the night. That is, until Elizabeth gave him the push he needed to sprint up those stairs, bursting into her room, taking Coble by the hand and leading her across the hall.

A desperate jumble of hands clawing at her lacing and his buttons, tearing the entire mess from their bodies, Vasco lifted her from the floor, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to his bed. Not some strange bed in a rented room. His bed.

The thought sustains him, perhaps absurdly, but something about taking Coble into his own bed makes him feel like he’s in control in a way denied him since his grounding. Having no ship, no cabin, no crew of his own left him feeling inconsequential. It’s a small thing but having something that he can call his makes him feel worthy of her.

Softly, he kisses her temple, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, before burying his nose in her hair ignoring the urge to scratch, inhaling that citrusy aroma that always hangs around her, released in small clouds as her hair moves with the breeze.

“Morning,” a thick but sultry voice whispers.

Vasco slips the arm her head is resting against around her chest, pulling her closer as his other hand traces the tattoos down her bicep.

“Mmmm. Sleep well?”

“In this bed? Like sleeping beauty!”

An idea that has been floating around his head lately begins to take form and before he can even talk himself out of it, he blurts out, “You like it here?”

“Of course I do. Food is good. Beds are better.”

Feeling like a punch to his gut, the words ache. “I see…”

“But the company is the best!” she says, reaching a hand up awkwardly searching for his face, resting her hand against his cheek.

That stirs something in the pit of his stomach. “Maeve, I know this is going to seem, sudden, but…” Vasco hesitates, taking a deep breath and sighing heavily, “I would like for you to stay here. With me. When you’re on shore leave. If-if you want to that is.”

“What about the lady of the house?”

“She has her own room,” he replies huskily, pushing her hair aside and kissing the nape of her neck.

“You know what I mean,” she replies with a laugh, turning her head to look into his eyes.

Vasco slips his hand up to her cheek, pulling her close and kissing her mouth hungrily. “I don’t think she’ll mind.”

Sighing, Coble mutters, “It’s sweet of you, but the offer should come from her.”

He instantly moves to climb out of bed, ready to wake Elizabeth if necessary, but feels her hand reach out and stop him.

“You don’t understand. I mean without you asking.”

“You’re right, of course. I just…stupid,” he replies, shaking his head, collapsing to his pillow, dejected.

“It’s not stupid. I would say yes if this place was yours.”

Even if the longing in her voice were not a sign, the way she moves against him most certainly is. He feels a tightening in his middle, warm and near electric, feels himself beginning to throb against the back of Coble’s thigh.

“Happy to see me, Sailor?” a honeyed voice says, pressing back against him knowingly.

With a groan, he adjusts himself. “Every damn time…”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Vasco glances at the windows, noting that it’s still not quite light outside. He presses against her back, slipping between her legs, his hand seeking her bittersweet arousal.

“We still have a while until everyone else is up…”

~Elizabeth~

The first thing Elizabeth realizes when she wakes is the mortifying fact that she forgot to thank Kurt for making dinner and for taking her to the theater the night before. Immediately after, she realizes she climbed into bed half-drunk on wine without changing. Her stay hovers about her hips, her chemise nowhere to be seen, and she is completely exposed, her dress hanging low and twisted about her limbs.

Panicked, she lifts her head and peers around the screen at the end of her bed to see that Kurt’s door is closed on the far side of the bath. Pulling the stay back up and gathering the dress around her as she slips from the bed, she sneaks silently over to the door, quickly pulling it closed.

Dropping the stay and the dress to the floor unceremoniously, she steps out, kicking both aside before digging for something simple to wear. Then, picking up the stay, she puts it away and places the dress carefully back on the hanger and, pushing the clothes back inside, presses against the wardrobe door with her weight until it closes.

When she glances over to her door, she sees the clothes Coble showed up in the previous afternoon lying in a pile on the floor. Picking them up, she folds them in a manner approaching the proper way and steps out, crossing the hall and leaving them outside Vasco’s door before sneaking quietly back to her room.

Taking a quick look in the mirror, she gasps as she sees her hair, a tangled mess, feeling grateful no one saw her. Removing all the pins and depositing them in the small dish on her dressing table, she brushes her hair out, leaving it down for now.

Remembering the bathroom door, she quickly opens it without thinking and without knocking, surprising Kurt in the middle of rinsing his face in the basin. Jerking his head up in a spray of droplets, he sputters and wipes the stream of water away.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he asks in a husky voice, the hint of a smile turning up one side of his mouth.

Slightly embarrassed, but mostly relieved not to have caught him unclothed, she tosses a towel at him, stammering, “Kurt, I wanted to apologize for last night.”

“Apologize? For what?” Pressing the towel to his face, his eyes narrow in confusion.

“First,” she begins, taking a deep breath and exhaling in a heavy sigh, “for never once thanking you for everything you did. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t. You were a little drunk and that’s my fault. Besides, I know.”

Drawing closer, she rests her hand on his arm, feeling his subtle musculature under her fingers. “I also need to apologize for what happened later.”

He glances down at her hand gently kneading his arm for a moment before his eyes trek back up to her face. “No, you don’t. You certainly couldn’t sleep in that all night.”

“I actually did,” she replies with a soft laugh, letting her hand fall away. “I vaguely remember stumbling to the bed and falling in and nothing after that. Woke up in a tangle this morning.”

“Well, still better than sleeping with your stay cinched in around your ribs all night long.”

“I suppose you’re right. Anyway,” she continues softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss into the corner of his mouth, reluctantly pulling back and muttering, “thank you. For dinner, for the theater…”

“I was lucky Lady Morange has a box. Trying to get tickets on the same day…should have my head examined by one of those crows.”

“Lucky or not, Kurt, it was thoughtful, and I loved…” she pauses just long enough that he looks at her curiously, “every moment of it.”

“You should ask Constantin to get a box. It would do him good to get out of that stuffy palace once in a while.”

“Perhaps, when he’s feeling better,” she replies softly, trying not to worry about her cousin’s health and what it might mean, not just for him, but for her and the people of this island.

“There’s something I neglected to tell you as well. You were the most beautiful woman in the place.”

Such compliments should not affect her the way they do, but when Kurt says such things, she knows he means more than his words say.

“You were quite handsome yourself last night, sir.”

“Flattery?”

“I know, it will get me nowhere,” she says, taking a step back as she turns to leave but Kurt grasps her hand, pulling her back in.

“I don’t know about that, Greenblood.”

Something about the tone of his voice, soft yet sensual, cuts right through her. “Kurt…”

“I forgot to give you something last night…”

Moving slow and with purpose, Kurt pulls her closer, his free hand reaching up and gently caressing her birthmark, fingers slipping around her neck and into her hair, pulling her that much closer, and gently brushing his lips over hers. Before he can get away, she wraps her arms around him, leaning into his chest while rising to the tip of her toes, parting her lips and deepening the kiss. Then he is pulling away, leaving both of them a little breathless.

“You can distract me anytime you want with your lips, Kurt,” she sighs, leaving him with a coy smile as she turns and leaves the bath headed downstairs.

Before she reaches the stairs, Kurt steps out of his own door into the hall and follows her down. She feels him gently toying with her hair as they make their way down the stairs.

In the dining room, she finds a grumpy Siora grumbling about doors banging in the middle of the night from one side of the table.

A slightly red-faced Vasco stands on the opposite side of the room with his arms around Coble. Both of them cast an embarrassed look in Elizabeth’s direction when she steps through the door.

“Morning. I see some of us slept better than others last night,” she says cheerfully, seating herself next to Siora watching as Kurt rounds the table and sits directly across from her.

“I slept fine, carants, until someone started slamming doors.” She glares across the table at Vasco.

“I’m sorry, Siora, we had been drinking. I didn’t mean to slam the door open like that…”

“The wine was a bit heady,” Elizabeth says, casting a coy glance at Kurt.

“That’s my fault. I grabbed the first bottle I saw.”

For a while after, Elizabeth watches Vasco and Coble, picking up on some sense of anxiety coming from both of them in waves. They pick at their food, carrying on a quiet conversation between themselves, prolonging the time they have and devoting it all to each other.

If Kurt was going to be leaving soon, she would be doing the same.

Maybe there is a way that Coble can be around more. A way to let the two of them spend more time together that works with both their unpredictable lives.

Standing from her seat, Coble comes around the table and places her hand on Elizabeth’s arm, speaking softly, “Thank you, de Sardet, for letting me borrow such a beautiful gown. I left it hanging on the back of Vasco’s door.”

“You’re most welcome. If you ever need to borrow another…”

“Also, thank you all for treating me to dinner and theater. I had never been before, but I had a wonderful time.”

“I’m going to walk Coble back to the port.”

“Before you go, can I speak to both of you alone for just a moment first?”

Coble and Vasco both look at her warily, unsure, as Kurt and Siora quietly leave the room.

“I would like for you to stay. If you want to. Keep in mind that we’re likely to be gone a lot of the time. And I know you’re on shore leave right now and you’ll be heading out again at some point. But I can set you up in a room of your own if you like and you can come and go as you please. You’re not obligated to stay but you are welcome to.”

“Did he put you up to this?” Coble glances at Vasco suspiciously.

Laughing softly, Vasco replies, “I did something very stupid this morning. I invited her to stay. But she said it wasn’t my place. She was right.” He reaches down and grasps her hand in his.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded. I’m glad to have you here. You don’t have to decide right now though. Take all the time you need.”

“Are you sure? What about the others?”

“I never make empty gestures,” she replies, ignoring the part about the others. It is her house after all.

Elizabeth leaves them to talk, entering the sitting room where Siora lounges on the sofa while Kurt stokes the coals in the fireplace, taking a seat next to her, thinking about their next move.

Their upcoming mission has her at a loss. She is so unfamiliar with the wild places on the island, with the native clans. Siora can help, of course, but is it fair to rely on her?

“Siora, this village, Vedleug, what do you know about it?” she asks softly, turning towards her, gently resting her hand over her arm.

“They are the cengeden anedas, storm warriors in your tongue. Fierce warriors led by a fierce mál, Derdre. If you expect to reason with her, you will be disappointed.”

“What can we expect from her?”

She hesitates for a moment before turning towards Elizabeth, placing her hand over hers. “She may not opt for all-out war, but she will put the interests of our people above all others.”

“Do you have any wisdom that will help?”

“Leave the priest and the alchemist here. Taking them along will be seen as a sign of aggression. I will go with you, carants.”

“I can’t leave the two of them here alone together…”

“Greenblood, Vasco can stay, and I’ll go with you,” he mutters, turning his back to the low burning fire, his eyes telling her that he’s going whether she likes it or not.

“Let’s check in with Arot first thing tomorrow. You’re going nowhere until you’re properly armored.”

Siora stands from her seat next to her and quietly climbs the stairs behind her, her light steps falling away as she disappears around the landing and down the hall.

Kurt takes the opportunity and sinks into the sofa beside her, taking her hand in his. She pulls her feet up, letting her knees rest against his leg, leaning her head against his shoulder. When his arm comes up around her, his fingers lightly caressing her arm, she sighs softly into his chest.

This is it. This is that pure blissful domesticity she longs for. Curled up in front of a fire in Kurt’s warm embrace. Safe. Loved. Home.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt stands to one side, arms crossed over his chest, watching Elizabeth exchange gold for steel, metal hammering against metal in the background. She is protecting his back, and the smith is a master of his trade, but the hefty sum makes him wince even as she hands it over painlessly with a smile, as if pleased to part with it. In a way, he supposes she is.

Despite the luxuries she enjoys, and always has, Kurt has never known her to be particularly attached to her wealth. As of late, it has become quite clear that gold means nothing to her other than a means to an end. Useful when she needs to grease the wheels of industry, to loosen lips or to pay off the odd barkeep when Constantin gets out of hand.

Or dropping a prince’s ransom in gold to safeguard the people she cares about.

With Kurt’s new armor finished and arranged to be delivered that morning, and Vasco’s still under the iron, he follows as Elizabeth turns and heads back to the house to prepare to leave, the pounding of the hammer on the anvil dampening as they step through the arch and back into the square.

“I suppose it’s now certain Vasco will be staying behind for this mission…”

“I wager one gold coin that he doesn’t even argue when I tell him.”

“You’re on, Greenblood,” he replies with a smirk as he follows on her heels, his arms crossed behind his back as they cross the square.

When they reach the gate, he quickly skirts around her and holds it open as she passes through, latching it quickly before catching up to her at the door and following her through.

Inside, Vasco and Coble both glance up from the couch where he sits reading with her head on his lap.

As she starts to get up, de Sardet says, “Please, stay. I have to go pack anyway.”

Vasco looks at both of them curiously, wordlessly.

“Siora, Kurt and I will be leaving soon to head to Vedleug.”

“I’m not going?” Vasco asks dejectedly.

“Not this time. Siora offered to go with me, and I don’t feel right about leaving Aphra and Petrus here alone.”

Vasco closes the book, laying it beside him and looks her directly in the eye. “So, I’m to be a babysitter? What if you need more protection than Kurt can provide? I should go with you.”

“I can certainly handle the situation, Sailor.”

“Vasco, stay,” Elizabeth replies, glancing down at Coble.

He looks ready to object again, but then follows her gaze, reaching out and grasping the woman’s hand, he nods and relents, “Alright. I’ll stay behind. But be safe out there.”

Kurt follows Elizabeth up the stairs, splitting off and entering his own room and searching for his duffle, carefully packing essentials. A light knock on his door to the bath has him turning just as a folded piece of paper is pushed under the door. Crossing from the bed, he bends and picks up the paper, finding it heavier than he expected. As he begins to open it, a gold coin falls out and he darts his hand out to catch it.

Inside the folded note he reads:

Kurt,

One gold piece. As promised.

affectionately,
Elizabeth

He smiles for a moment as he inspects the coin, looking for a deep scratch he noticed the night she first wagered it on the game of cards. Finding it, he drops the gold piece into a pocket. The note he slips into the top drawer of his bedside table.

Sitting at his desk, thoughts and feelings rushing through him, words he wants to say but never quite dares to utter, he pens a note in reply:

Greenblood,

What I want is infinitely more valuable than gold.

yours,
Kurt

Standing, Kurt folds the paper in half, moving to the door and knocking softly before reaching down to slide the note under before he loses his nerve, leaving the corner to stick out where he can see it. Almost immediately the paper disappears, and he hears Elizabeth sigh and the door creak softly as she leans against it.

Moving closer, he presses against the wood, budging it enough that she must have felt it shift at her back. Slowly backing away, he picks up his duffel and sheathes his sword, quickly stepping out into the hall and taking the stairs back down to the sitting room. A pang of jealousy settles in his stomach as he enters and Coble and Vasco break apart, the sailor going back to reading aloud with her head once again rested in his lap, knowing that he may never have that kind of ease with Elizabeth.

Kurt passes by, slipping through the dining room and into the kitchen where he begins to set aside rations and fill a skein each for the three of them, stuffing his into his duffle and leaving the rest. He returns to the sitting room, dropping his pack by the door and seating himself in a chair to wait, trying not to glance over at Vasco and Coble on the sofa.

“Kurt, are you sure I shouldn’t come?”

He had known the sailor would put up a fight. In truth, Elizabeth had probably known as well and still made the wager. Almost like she wants him to keep the coin for some unknown reason. But, first chance he gets, he’s going to lose it back to her.

Without looking in his direction, Kurt replies, “She’s not going to let you leave the city until your armor is finished anyway.”

“What about you?”

“Waiting for delivery,” he says almost smugly, immediately feeling a twinge of guilt, knowing Vasco means well.

When Elizabeth comes down the stairs, she looks at him in a way that would have him tearing across the room to reach her if they were alone. As it is, he squirms under her intense gaze, muttering, “I set out provisions in the kitchen for you and Siora.”

“She’ll be down soon,” she says as she passes behind him.

Vasco gives him a questioning look like he’s about to start digging but, right at that moment, someone raps the knocker rescuing him and Kurt jumps to his feet to answer it.

One of Arot’s younger apprentices, a dark-haired, wiry thing who barely weighs more than the armor he carries stands on the step. “Delivery for Lady de Sardet.”

“I’ll take it,” he says, digging a few coins from his pouch and putting them in the boy’s hand as he lifts the cloth bag from his shoulder, watching in amusement as the lad skips off counting his money all the way to the gate. “Greenblood, we can leave as soon as you’re ready,” he calls into the open dining room door.

She strolls back out and leans against the doorframe. “Well, let’s see it.”

Pulling the black gambeson off self-consciously, he quickly pulls the new one out of the cloth bag and slips it on, buckling it over his chest. Looking down at it, he sees the firelight reflected in the brushed finish, broken up by etchings around the edges, vines like the one she pressed in a book years ago.

Sentimental indeed. He glances back up at her face, unable to find the words so he simply says, “Thank you, Greenblood.”

“I can’t have my personal guard walking around the wild lands unprotected, now can I?”

Vasco smirks up at him, half hiding behind Coble.

“Carants! My how handsome you look!” Siora says as she descends the stairs.

“Kurt gathered provisions. Yours are in the kitchen.”

While Siora disappears into the dining room, Elizabeth steps closer to Vasco, leaning in as she speaks. “You’re in charge until we return. Keep Petrus and Aphra from killing each other. And, Coble, enjoy the rest of your shore leave.”

“Wait, when should we expect you back?”

“Honestly, I have no idea but don’t send out a search party. We’ll be fine.”

Vasco nods, albeit hesitantly.

Outside the northern gate, Elizabeth approaches the caravan driver, Kurt and Siora tossing their packs in the back while she makes the arrangements. He climbs inside, helping Siora up as they lay out their bedrolls to cushion the hard wood bed, positioning their packs at their backs when Elizabeth’s face appears. Kurt quickly moves closer and offers his hand, pulling her up next to him. She settles in on one side with Siora on the other, both leaning in against his shoulders on each side.

“I could get used to this,” he teases, receiving a gentle elbow in his left side in answer. “I’m recovering from a gunshot wound, Greenblood!” His voice stuttering as the wagon lurches forward beneath them, swaying from side to side down the uneven road.

“Should I leave you behind to convalesce for a few more days, Kurt?”

He snaps his mouth closed, leaning his head back against his pack, a sly smile crossing his face as he falls into a restless sleep, the careening and jostling of the caravan stirring him lightly now and then.

When they stop abruptly, Kurt’s head jerks forward, startling him awake. Rubbing his face, he stretches his arms and legs, wincing at the sudden twinge in his right side as his back arches, catching a quick glance from Elizabeth. Waving her off, he helps as they repack their bedrolls and climb down to the ground.

The caravan pulls away as they trek north into the woods, following along the river’s edge with Siora in the lead.

As they reach the bottom of a hill and begin to climb, Siora points up to an arch created by the tall trunks of two bent trees that spans the path at the far end of the hill. “There. The entrance to Vedleug,” she says quietly, almost reverently.

They follow the hill a short way up, stepping through the makeshift gate and into a large circular clearing encircled by many huts, the center made up of tall pillars surrounding a tree where villagers seem to be meditating. On the opposite side, one hut rises above all the others with a long set of massive stone steps leading up to it, certainly the home of the leader.

Kurt and Siora follow as Elizabeth quickly circumvents the village center and takes the stairs up, gently knocking on the large wood door. When no one answers, she pushes the door and enters cautiously as it swings open, all of them glancing around.

The interior of the hut is not unlike others they have seen before. A fire pit blazes in the center which warms and illuminates the space, surrounded by rugs placed on the earthen floor. Vines stretch out over nearly every surface like protective hands, candles and jars of various sizes grouped around the perimeter.

In the back, a woman in a traditional native robe sits on one of the rugs appearing to be deep in mediation. When she hears the group enter, she stands to greet them, her yellow hair cropped back from her face which is covered in streaks of white paint. Her eyes drift to the birthmark on Elizabeth’s cheek. "Beurd tir to mad, on ol menawi, I am Derdre, daughter of Enora, daughter of Rowenna, mál of this clan.”

No matter how many times he hears it, Kurt finds it impossible to get used to this ‘on ol menawi’ business, watching as Elizabeth tries not to react, knowing that it concerns her too though she says nothing about it. She notices the looks and the comments but seems to have grown accustomed to it.

“Legate de Sardet. Emissary of New Serene.”

“You were the renaigse who helped my people discover the whereabouts of the red sun’s camp, were you not?”

“Yes, I was”

“You have my gratitude. What is it that you want from me?”

“I want to learn about your people, your village, your beliefs.”

“We are a proud people, strong and resilient. Fierce warriors who terrify even other clans, but we are also peaceful, and we keep to ourselves.” She again looks at the mark on Elizabeth's face and says, “We are part of everything. Life depends on a balance, we care for the land, and, in return, it sustains us and protects us.”

The we in her voice sounds like she means to include Elizabeth as a part of this everything.

“The missionaries who came here reported back to the Mother Cardinal rumors of a cult…”

“Those mind shakers came here to try to turn us away from our way of life. Their rumors are nothing more than false accusations to demonize my people and poison minds against us.”

“Please, she sent us here to discover the truth.”

“No, she sent you here to intimidate my people knowing we would trust you more than her own. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Elizabeth mutters, turning and leading them back out and down the stairs.

Kurt reaches out and brushes his hand against her arm.

Descending the stairs brings them to another hut directly next to the home of the mál. This hut is rather different inside. There is a large tree off to one side fenced in by large stones. And there are living vines climbing the support columns. The man inside wears the robe of a healer and presents with the typical hornlike growths from his head.

"Beurd tir to mad, renaigse,” he says as they draw closer.

“My name is de Sardet.”

“Valan. I am the doneigad of this village.”

Crossing her arms behind her back, she steps forward, softly asking, “Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?”

“Your people always with their questions. When you do not get the answers you want, you ask the same questions over and over.”

“I don’t…”

“Seek out your own answers. Then you will have only yourself to bother.”

Elizabeth stands before the man for a moment, shaking her head about to continue when he turns away. Kurt grabs her arm and gently pulls her back toward the door, holding it as she steps through. “Greenblood, not everyone is going to talk to us.”

She nods and follows.

Once again outside, they look around for villagers they might speak with. Avoiding anyone who looks like they are in the middle of mediation, they pass those who are sitting in the circle around the tree, heading to the far side of the village, where they spot a young native who seems to be watching them.

"Beurd tir to mad, renaigse. Do you want something?"

"I hoped I could ask a few questions.”

“You renaigse love your questions! Play a game with me. If you will answer my questions, I will answer yours. But no lies…”

Elizabeth looks at the woman for a moment before nodding. “Let’s play.”

“What fun! What do you call the place where you come from?”

Elizabeth looks down awkwardly as she answers, her voice subdued. "I come from Serene, a large city on a continent far from your island."

The young woman tilts her head at her, eyes narrowed. “Hmmm, perhaps that is where you are from, but I suspect it is not your homeland.”

“Tell me about the missionaries.”

“The mind shakers? They showed up here with their questions, spying on us. They tried to make us join them, but no one would listen so they left.” She shifts into a lighter demeanor, smiling easily. “Are you bound to your land or did you inherit your bond from your parents.”

“I was born with this mark. That’s all I know.”

“Interesting. At least one of your parents must have been doneigad.”

Elizabeth glances at Kurt, her brows raised in surprise. He heard it too. A doneigad. He watches helplessly as her entire world shifts with a few words.

“Can you tell me more?”

“I can try. What would you like to know?”

Elizabeth takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, searching for the words. “My mother has no mark, and I never knew my father, but I’ve never heard anything about him being a healer. He travelled a lot and might have come here.”

“A renaigse?” she asks, waiting until Elizabeth nods. “No, no renaigse would be given such an honor.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I can answer no more of your questions. Your mother must have the answers you seek. Thank you for playing my game, it was fun.”

Kurt watches as Elizabeth’s shoulders drop. Her mother, if she is even still alive, is on the other side of the sea, beyond her reach. A letter would never reach her in time.

“Greenblood?”

“I’m fine. This will have to wait.”

It’s not fine. She’s not fine. After so many years, seeing her nearly every day, Kurt knows her better than almost anyone. Perhaps even better than her own mother. She presents the façade of someone calm and collected, but, he knows, inside her a storm is building and will eventually swell out of control.

He will be there to catch her and hold her when it does.

There is yet one more hut which sits on a plateau outside of the main village area, a large tree sheltering the entire space. After reaching the top of the stairs, directly ahead, they see an area which looks like a space where pottery is made. There is a large standing kiln with a hot burning fire before a large stone slab.

Further to the right, a man kneels on a small rug before a pillar made of stones stacked one on top of the other. He looks to be meditating but they must get some answers from someone.

“Would you mind answering a few questions?”

The man finishes his mantra and stands. "Beurd tir to mad, on ol menawi. What do you want to know?”

“What role do you play in this village?

“I-I am a gatherer. I do some hunting.”

“Is something the matter?” Kurt asks mendaciously.

“I am tired of the questions. When you renaigse don’t get answers, you bother the next person or snoop around. I want to be left to my work,” he mutters as he stalks away, stopping in front of his hut with his arms crossed.

Kurt follows the steps back down and pulls Elizabeth and Siora aside.

“That man was nervous. He may not be outright lying, but he is most certainly not telling the whole truth, Greenblood.”

“Carants, simple hunters and gatherers reside in simple huts like the rest of the villagers. That man is more than he says. He is hiding something. We should search inside his house.”

“He’s not going to just let us waltz through the door, pretty flower.”

“We’ll have to distract him somehow.”

Kurt watches as Elizabeth glances around. She stoops and picks up several large seeds encased in a hard shell.

“I could break a few of his pots. That might get him to move away from the door.”

Near the top of the stairs, Elizabeth ducks behind a pillar and aims for the pots around the side of the man’s hut. The first seed misses them entirely, landing somewhere in the soft grasses beside the large kiln. Picking up the next one, she takes a breath and holds it as she releases the seed which bounces dully off the slab.

“Should one of us give it a try?” Kurt asks barely above a whisper.

“No, I’ve got it.”

Concentrating once more, she inhales and holds, throwing the seed with enough force that it immediately shatters a large pot on contact, breaking at least another smaller pot when the heavy-lidded top crashes into it. They pull back further into the shadow of the pillar as the man passes and rounds the corner to see what the commotion was. Elizabeth sees him pick up a seed and look up at the tree as they sneak over to the door of his hut.

Inside, on the right, they see a mural framed with carved stone, a large creature looming over what appear to be many smaller beings.

“A massacre?” Elizabeth asks anxiously.

Directly opposite the door is a stone slab with just the torso and head of a corpse in an advanced state of decomposition. There are candles at each end and some kind of hoop with a web like pattern stitched into it and feathers strung from the bottom laying near the head.

Looking to Siora, Elizabeth asks, “What sort of ritual would be performed in such a macabre way?”

“This is nothing like the rituals that we perform in my village. This is…disturbing.”

On the left side of the room is another stone slab, this one with a mask. It is made from a combination of an animal skull and twigs which make it look rather alien and terrifying.

“The storm warriors are widely known for their intimidating visage on the field of battle. This might be a war mask, Carants, but I’ve never seen one so…gruesome.”

“Greenblood, the only way to get to the bottom of this is to wait for nightfall to see if he leaves his home and follow him.”

Siora sneaks back to the door and watches for the man, signaling to them when it’s clear to leave.

There is only one other gate in the village, suspiciously barred, so they find a hidden spot nearby and wait, concealed by tall, thick grasses. They pass the time resting in shifts, snacking on rations, waiting until the man shows. If he shows.

Kurt taps Elizabeth on the arm, meaning to wake her gently. “Greenblood, here’s our man…”

They watch as the man opens the gate and slips through, disappearing down the path.

Passing around the hut that they were hiding behind and through the gate, they keep their distance and stay to the darker shadows along the path. Each time he nervously pauses and looks behind him, they stop and linger in the shadows out of his view.

Eventually they lose sight of him and come to a fork that leads off in two directions.

“Carants, I believe he went to the right. Further up, there is a large, lightning damaged tree. It is what the village of Vedleug is named for.”

“Why do you think he would he go that way?”

“There was once a great storm in this wood, and the largest and oldest tree was struck by lightning, starting a fire that burned almost the entire wood. The remains of the woods brought new life, stronger than the old. The lightning struck tree is a symbol of their strength and resilience.”

“So, if they were performing some ritual out here, that place would have a significance for them.”

“Exactly.”

Quickly climbing a ledge, they take the path on the right, ducking beneath the undergrowth, softly stepping over fallen leaves, until they come to a large circular clearing with a massive tree on the opposite side, a large ring of pillars in the center, but the man is nowhere to be seen.

“Where could he have gone?”

Siora points towards the base of the tree, a structure of roots twisted tightly together. “That is a root door. They are used to protect sacred spaces.”

“How will we get in?”

“These standing stones must be the way to open the door. You would activate the right ones in a certain order, but only the doneigad would know the correct combination.”

Kurt watches apprehensively as Elizabeth approaches the tree, glancing around, watching and listening for an ambush. When she places her hand on the thick bark, she begins to back slowly away, turning in a circle, a look of horror on her face.

“Greenblood!” he calls out, running to her and gripping her shoulders in his hands. “Are you alright?” When she seems to neither see nor hear him, he gently shakes her, looking to Siora for answers. “What is happening?”

Suddenly, Elizabeth takes a deep breath, gasping for air.

“Did the tree speak to you?” Siora asks.

“It was more like images than words. They felt…so real.”

“What did you see?”

“I think…I was the tree,” she says uncertainly. “There was a terrible storm that shook my branches until they ached. Then lightning struck me, igniting a fire that spread through my body reducing me to ash. I think I must have died because it was all dark and quiet then until the rain began to fall. Then a tiny sprout appeared, and I felt alive again.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all I can remember.”

Kurt looks closer at one of the standing stones starting at the one nearest the door and moving from one to the next, making guesses as to what each one represents, speaking the words aloud, “Wind, lighting, ice…this one is just black…death maybe?” Following around the circle, he continues, “Moon, sun, a babe…or life? Fire, earth, water.”

Elizabeth steps up to the first stone. “The vision began with the shaking of my branches. Wind.” She places her palm flat against the symbol and watches as it lights up under her fingers.

“What happened after that?”

“Lightning,” she replies softly as she moves to the next stone, repeating the same action, the symbol again glowing under her touch. Moving to the opposite side, she touches the glyph on the fire stone, then crosses back to the solid black pillar, hesitantly touching it but there is no glow this time that they can see.

Back on the opposite side of the door, she activates the water stone, and they all sigh in relief when it lights up as well. Slowly, she turns and reaches out to place her hand on the life stone. All of the stones go dark, and the roots begin to retract, the door unencumbered, opening before them and granting passage.

They move quietly and reverently, entering a cave which winds its way down a short way until they reach a ledge where they can look down on many villagers below kneeling around a barren tree. The doneigad wears the mask they discovered in the hut and speaks their native language as he circles the tree in the middle of the cavern. Taking a ceremonial knife, he cuts the palm of his hand open, which he then places flat on the ground and the others do the same.

The earth rumbles and a flash of light climbs the tree as an ethereal and feminine voice emanates from it, speaking this language that Elizabeth and Kurt do not understand but they hear the word fradi several times and recognize it as part of the name of the island. After the tree goes silent the warriors raise their weapons and cheer.

Kurt turns to lead them back out of the cavern before the villagers can catch them there, quickly darting through the circle of stones and back down the path to the village.

“Siora, what was that?”

"I’ve never seen anything like that, carants.”

"The village doneigad led the ceremony. What was he saying?"

"He was praying to their spirit for her blessing and she gave it in exchange for their offering of blood."

“Their leader must have answers.”

Derdre stands before them with her arms crossed over her chest, in no better mood to speak than she was earlier that day. “Now what do you want?”

Kurt stands off to one side, keeping a quiet watch, ready to step in if needed but minding his business without interfering.

“As no one would give us a straightforward answer, we followed one of you to your sanctuary and witnessed…something that not even Siora could explain. Is that the same creature that the missionaries reported? The one they call a demon?”

“They know nothing,” Derdre replies venomously.

“I’ve never seen a ritual like the one I saw tonight. What was the purpose of it?”

“I know you. You are the daughter of Bládnid. You surround yourself with renaigse. Why should I tell you?”

Siora looks at Elizabeth and smiles. Glancing at Derdre, she pleads, “Anyone can see that she is not like the others. She bears the mark of those bound to our land. You can trust her.”

“That ritual is a summoning ceremony. It calls forth the strength of nature to make our warriors stronger. She speaks to us; she provides for us, and we give back to her. She is but one of many.”

“Would it be possible to speak with her?” Elizabeth asks, perhaps too eagerly.

“What you witnessed was not a conversation…” she trails off, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “but, you might be able to have the audience you seek if you go to the sanctuary in Vedvilvie.

“Thank you.”

“Do not be so quick to thank me. You may not like what you find…” Derdre leads them to a vacant hut on the far side of the village. “It has grown late. Stay tonight and leave tomorrow. I promise none of my people will bring you any harm.”

“Again, thank you.”

Turning, Derdre leaves them alone as she withdraws.

“Friendly,” Kurt says sarcastically after they are alone in the mostly empty hut, removing his armor and watching as Elizabeth creates a blossom of flames in her hand, lighting the fire pit in the center of the room before shaking the embers out.

Kurt watches Elizabeth closely as they lay their bedrolls out around the pit, basking in the growing warmth, Siora almost immediately asleep, or at least doing a good job of pretending to be as far as Kurt can tell from his position next to Elizabeth.

He would ask about the things the native woman told her, but he’s not sure what to say. He would reassure her that they will find answers, but he knows that is a promise he might not be able to keep. All he can do for now is simply to be here, ready to listen and comfort her.

He glances over at Elizabeth’s face, the fire warming her skin to a golden tone, reaching out and resting his hand over hers, smiling when she threads her fingers through his, and closes her eyes. For a while after, he stays awake, watching her sleep. Watching the rise and fall of her chest with her breathing, listening for the whisper of his name on her lips.

Chapter Text

~Siora~

When she wakes, Kurt and Elizabeth are still deep in sleep, both of them stuck in some dark dream that keeps them from peaceful slumber. Kneeling beside their heads, she reaches out and sends a fine thread of an enchantment, soothing them both without waking them. Kurt settles and Elizabeth quiets, the two of them reaching for each other.

Settling back onto her bedroll, she snacks on a few rations while watching her companions, observing the way their fingers touch. She sees the way they look at each other. The way they touch each other when they think no one is looking. They are minundhanem, sharing one mind, like Vasco and Coble. None of them have said the words, but they feel it even if they never say it.

Bládnid and Meb, her mother and father, were like that. Words were never important to them. They loved each other through touch and through feel. Even when she and Eseld were little, their parents had a language all their own, one they spoke without any words at all, a language the young twins never quite comprehended, yet fully understood. Eseld always called them cairanemen, love’s souls, a made-up word that they whispered to each other.

Fal, their mother had called their father. He was the rock, always the constant in their lives. No matter where their mother was, meeting with other clan leaders or preparing for a fight, their father maintained the sense of comoleis, togetherness, teaching his two young daughters the ways of life and love and family. Their mother was Srodi, the river, moving around and through shared spaces like the river flowing around the rocks and between its banks, shaping and molding the very bed that contained it.

While their mother was looking out for the village, their father was showing them the ways of the doneigada. Siora loved watching him with his infectious enthusiasm and appreciation for nature as he would teach them about plants and herbs; which ones are safe and which ones are dangerous. Even Eseld, who had a less studious mind than her twin, could watch him for hours as they wandered through the woods around the village.

He was a good and proud father, strong and gentle. Protective. Their very own vogelaíg. And it cost him his life.

They were in their fifteenth year, on a short outing in the red woods with their father, when the lions showed up with their forces. She didn’t understand at first what was happening as their father pushed them away, told them to run back to the village and send help. Stumbling back, she had grabbed Eseld who fought to stay behind and dragged her back to the village. She had to fight against her the entire way, but it was what their father wanted.

By the time they had entered the village, out of breath, they were both covered in scratches from the brush they had sprinted through. Ordering the two sisters to stay hidden in the village, their mother led a group of warriors to go find their father and bring him back. Eseld again fought against her, trying to follow them until she grew tired and gave up, falling into a restless sleep, her head on Siora’s lap as she ran her fingers through her hair.

Siora stayed hopeful, constantly trying to peek around the guards at the door between pacing around their shared hut, looking for her father to return at their mother’s side. As it grew dark, Eseld grew quiet and withdrawn, sequestering herself on the far side of the hut, covering herself with a blanket and refusing to speak.

When they returned with the lifeless body of their father, she sank to her knees, Eseld at her side blaming her, insisting she could have saved him.

He was not the first doneigad to be taken from the village. Every village had seen the same, the lions coming for their healers, but they still had no idea why. Then, they learned the truth.

Capturing the twins was the true goal of the alliance, they were the prize. When their father sent them away, he was captured instead, a consolation for their efforts. The lions dragged him away, and he went quietly until the warriors showed up. During the rescue, in the confusion, he was gravely injured, falling as his captors made their escape.

Losing him, the blow was sudden and devastating, their mother suddenly a single mind, a single soul, with two daughters to care for and an entire village to lead on her own. They never had the time to properly mourn him. One day they were saying goodbye, and the next they were preparing for war.

Siora felt the loss, but it was Eseld who embodied it, channeled it into a fury. Though she was always more intense, she found her sister altered, her course changed. The girl who once planned to be a doneigad like her father and her sister abandoned her studies and took up her weapons. While Siora was going through the rituals of bonding herself, Eseld was training to fight at their mother’s side. As time passed, she felt the wedge that had shifted between them, immovable and impassable.

They were so close as children, credanemen, heart’s souls, inseparable despite their differing temperaments, the shared bond of twins, an oddity in their world.

Eseld never fully understood why Siora resisted, but it was obvious why their mother sent her to New Serene looking for allies. They could not fight the alliance on their own, but she had been too late to stop them. Perhaps their mother never expected for her to return with help or to return in time. Maybe she simply wanted to keep Siora away from the fight.

The cursed Bridge Alliance, those lions and the death and destruction they have wrought. First, they took Tadir. Then Matir, whose body lies in Vasrigen, awaiting her burial. Now, she is losing her sister as well. Siora would have stayed in the village until the ritual was done, helped lead their people, but Eseld seemed to want her to leave, as if looking at her was unbearable. She might never forgive her, but she will try to repair the rift between them. If she can.

Traveling with Elizabeth and the others has certainly colored the opinions of some of her people against her. Her sister included.

She knows Elizabeth wants her to get to know the scientist and the priest, but every time she looks at Aphra, all she can see is the lion, blind to feeling, only concerned with gaining knowledge regardless of the cost, too arrogant to notice anything outside of herself. And Petrus, too busy praying to see beyond the inquisition and their ravings about demons. Or, too ambitious. There is a sly fox behind his thin veneer, a scrambling man bent on getting what he wants no matter the price.

Glancing at Elizabeth, she recalls how upset she was with the way she handled the priest in San Matheus. Hearing her words had wounded her, but she lacks the priests’ dogmatism, the alchemists’ thirst for knowledge. She has no ambition. No arrogance. Just a gentle respect and mindfulness, a desire to make peace, but not at the cost of innocent lives.

And Kurt, he only wants one thing. Every choice, every thought, a culmination of his efforts to stay close to the woman he loves. Kurt, with all his pretty flower talk, hides a deep, dark secret. Siora has seen his truth. Impossible not to when you reach deep inside a person the way she had, probing his body and mind, desperate to save him.

Eseld would probably ask why she would bother to save a hired mercenary. They go where the coin leads them, following the highest bidder. But the more time she spends around Kurt, the more she has come to respect and understand him.

Seeing flashes of his memories and his thoughts, his fears and his anxieties, she sees the man under the armor. A man who was never given a choice in his future, he tries desperately to do what is right even when it would be easier not to, even at the cost of his own wants and desires.

“Morning, pretty flower.”

She darts her eyes to where Kurt lies, rubbing his face and stretching as he pushes himself up to sit, pulling his pack around to his front and pulling out some rations.

“Good morning.”

“Let her sleep just a little longer,” he says, as he nods towards Elizabeth.

“Kurt, how are you feeling?”

He glances down at his right side. “Good as new.”

“That’s not what I meant, Vogelaíg.”

“What does that mean?” Kurt asks, his brow raised, and his head cocked to one side as he pops a bite of cheese into his mouth.

Smiling, Siora takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Vogelaíg is a word that means guardian or protector in my language. It is what my sister and I called our father.”

“Protector…I suppose I can live with that,” he replies softly, an amused smile on his face.

“If there was something…bothering you, you could talk to me.”

“I appreciate that, Siora, I do. But I have nothing to talk about.”

She nods and lets it go, leaving him with the knowledge that she is there for him.

They sit in silence watching the fire burn out slowly while Elizabeth sleeps. When she says his name, Kurt looks away, but he gently holds her hand, his thumb making a small circle against the pulse in her wrist until she wakes.

“Morning, carants.”

“Mmmm. Morning.” She glances at her hand in Kurt’s, his thumb still making those circles as she lifts herself up, sitting cross-legged on her bedroll.

“Greenblood?” he says as he offers her some of his rations which she takes, giving him a smile in return.

“I suppose we need to leave soon. Before we’ve worn out our welcome…”

Siora glances around the hut, listening to the voices outside. “We are safe here, but, yes, we should be on our way.”

Standing, she packs her bedroll and steps outside to wait while Kurt and Elizabeth gather themselves and their things. She watches the villagers as they mill around, having risen with the sun, already well into their day.

Derdre gives her a wary look from across the way. Either for her or against her, she’s not quite sure. Looking at her, she can see Eseld following her same path, guided by her anger and her sense of vengeance. Unless she can somehow reach her and mend their bond.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt watches Siora leave as he rolls his bedroll and stuffs it into his pack, thinking about their conversation. Being compared to her father is simultaneously humbling and mortifying and those two conflicting feelings clash in his mind.

Siora is not much younger than Elizabeth and he is certainly not old enough to be her father. As if the thought had never crossed his mind, now he can hardly help but wonder what people think when they see them together. Not only the lowly guard with the lady far above his station, do they see an old man with a young woman on his arm?

Not for the first time, he wonders what Elizabeth sees in him as he glances her way. “Ready?” he asks quietly as he swallows the lump in his throat, reaching out to grasp her hand and help her to her feet.

She reaches back one slender hand, letting him take it gently and tug her to her feet. The momentum brings them face to face and he is dropping his pack and, despite the thoughts rumbling through his mind, reaching up for her face in an instant, his fingers caressing the texture of her birthmark. He pulls her closer with her hand still enclosed in his as he slips his arm around her, pressing into the small of her back.

Elizabeth closes the negligible distance between their mouths, her lips slightly parted and inviting. Beckoning

Kissing her is warm and electric, and it makes him feel young and alive, driving out those intrusive thoughts, if only for a moment. Reluctantly, he pulls back, a barely perceptible gasp escaping his throat.

Her free hand gently studies the scars on his face as she leaves him with one soft kiss to his neck, sending chills down his spine. ”Let’s go,” she whispers as she bends and picks up her pack.

Stooping and picking up her bedroll, he quickly rolls it and helps her stuff it in the pack, shifting the contents around with the added bulk. Reaching down, he grabs his own pack, slinging it back over his shoulder and following her out of the hut where Siora waits beside the door.

“Ready, carants?”

She nods and Siora steps out in front to lead the way to Vedvilvie with Kurt and Elizabeth following down the hill behind, their hands softly grazing as they walk together down the path with the boughs of the trees crossing overhead.

Once they are further outside of the village, Kurt takes up the rear while Elizabeth walks beside Siora, keeping an eye out for danger as they make their way into the wilderness, this mostly uninhabited land.

The woods buzz low around them with the sounds of insects and birds, the breeze through the grasses and trees. Once in a while, they spot a deer or an elusive fox near the lightly worn path, but the larger predators are nowhere to be seen and Kurt relaxes some.

After some time, Elizabeth breaks the near silence when she clears her throat and speaks, “Siora, when speaking about en on mil frichtimen, you referred to it as he. But…that voice we heard last night, it sounded...feminine.”

“That was not en on mil frichtimen that you witnessed, but one of the faces of the island.”

“One of the faces…” Elizabeth inquires, trying to keep up with Siora as she easily traverses the uneven terrain.

“She is one of many faces. They call upon her to give them strength. Other clans call upon spirits of peace or bounty. They each have their own voice and their own blessings to bestow.”

“And en on mil frichtimen?”

“He is the Father, the god of the thousand faces.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

Siora takes a breath and slowly exhales before she answers, “I did not think you would understand. But now that you have seen for yourself…”

“I know that you may not be able to give me answers, Siora, but it seems to be a recurring thing, my being mistaken for a native here.

Siora glances at Elizabeth walking beside her, glancing at the coat she wears. “Though you dress like a renaigse, your mark is…unique to those who are bonded to Tir Fradi. I would not have thought it possible for an on ol menawi to come from somewhere so far away.”

“So far as I know, I was the only one. Even my father, I never heard anyone speak of him having the mark. Not even my mother.”

“Perhaps she did not want you to know.”

“I don’t know. But knowing, it would have made things so much easier I think.” Her hand rises to her cheek self-consciously. “People looked at me like I was some kind of oddity. Like there was something wrong with me.”

Kurt watches as her hand lingers against the birthmark, fingers tracing the curling texture. It is something she seems to do less often, but the reflex is still there.

“People can be stupid and cruel, carants. I understand that it might be an adjustment, but no one here is going to judge you for wearing that mark. It is a mark that bestows honor, and it makes you closer to us.”

“I wish there was a way to find out more about my father and his time here. I feel like there are pieces missing that I need to find to get answers.”

Kurt wonders if there is any way to find out when Lord de Sardet was here. If he was here at all. To help her get the answers to the questions that seem to haunt her.

As they walk on, the path eventually opens to a large expanse of swamp. Keeping their distance from the rather large beasts roaming around, they discover several bodies of people dressed as priests scattered around, floating in the shallow waters.

Unable to do anything for them, they keep their northerly heading, quietly passing in a large arc around the beasts until they relocate the path at the far side. Following it, they discover a sort of ravine between two rocky ridges that leads them in only one direction.

As they follow along, they arrive in an area that is laid out with a lower flat circular area within an even larger circle of raised land features around it. A very old hermit with long white hair, dressed in an unusual robe, both looking ancient, sits atop a large stone next to the inner circle.

He looks over the three of them, glancing from one to the other before settling on Elizabeth and the mark on her face. “You are on ol menawi…but also renaigse,” he says, rolling his consonants heavily. “Where do you come from?”

“I am from the continent of Gacane, on the other side of the sea.”

“Curious.”

Kurt stands off to the side and just behind her, watching and listening for an ambush. They are as far out in the middle of nowhere as they were when tracking the tierna. And he remembers how that ended. As if to remind him, he feels a pang in his stomach near where the projectile entered.

“We were sent here by Chief Derdre of Vedleug to this sanctuary to get answers.”

“Derdre sent you? That is curious,” the man replies in an almost taunting voice that has Kurt on edge.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing, I’m sure she has her reasons.”

Now Kurt is on his guard, hand on the hilt of his sword and glancing around apprehensively. If things take a turn for the worse, no one outside of Derdre knows exactly where they are and two of them cannot carry a third all the way back to the village.

“Can you tell us what this place is?”

“You are not the first to come from your island asking questions. A group of warriors with smoking tubes and golden lions on their chests came a long time ago now.”

“Lions?”

When Elizabeth turns to him, Kurt mutters, “The Bridge, no doubt. What interest would they have in this place?”

Siora looks at Kurt and speaks in a harsh voice, “The lions do not care who they hurt or what damage they do in their quest for knowledge.”

“I could not say, but they were not here long before they suddenly disappeared.”

“Did they leave?”

“I do not know. Perhaps if you look around you can find your answers.”

The three of them jump down into the inner circle and begin to explore the area. Directly in front of them is a sort of raised platform with three round objects too small and distant to make out clearly. Aside from the swampy bottom and some undergrowth, there seems to be little else of interest there.

Walking to the west brings them to a ledge which they climb, bringing them to a small inset area that protects a mural similar to the one they discovered before in the ruins. Primitive but beautiful, it is a painting of a dragonfly-like insect, in shades of yellow.

Around the side of the rock face that encircles the mural they find a path which leads to the body of a member of the Bridge Alliance judging by the caftan he wore. On the body they discover an old key which Elizabeth stuffs into a pocket before coming back around to the front of the area.

Continuing to follow the circular path, they find another ledge that drops down to the area below which is part of the outer circle. Following it around, they come to another ledge, this one climbing up. Just beyond it, they discover another mural, this one with a large, red serpent.

Continuing past it to another drop which leads to a wide natural stone bridge, branches jutting out on either side, they see a cavern. Inside they discover yet another mural. This one is older than the others and is nearly completely faded despite being in the protection of the cavern. All that can be made out are curved lines in red and green.

Exiting the cavern leads them almost back to where they started, revealing a small hidden area where they see several bodies.

“There’s hardly anything left. Do you think these are the men the old man spoke of, Greenblood?”

“Look at this bit of clothing. You can just make out the Alliance emblem. Let’s search the area. There may be some clue left as to why they were here.”

Ahead, Elizabeth sees an old chest and fishes the key she found earlier from her pocket. Trying it, the lock clicks and falls away. Inside the chest, she discovers a bottle of some kind of strange liquid and a mostly faded note that speaks of a potion made from nightshade berries and some sort of ritual.

“What do you have there, Greenblood?”

“I’m not sure. Some kind of potion or elixir,” she replies, showing the bottle and the note to Kurt and Siora.

“I’m sorry, carants, I don’t recognize this.”

“If anyone can tell us more, it will be the old man.”

As they leave the area, they immediately come back to the place where the man sits watching them.

“What is it that you want now?”

“We found the remains of the men you spoke of. They’re all long dead. Do you know what happened?”

“I tried to warn them. They did not listen,” the man says in that same taunting voice that grates against Kurt’s nerves.

“What do you mean you tried to warn them? About what?”

“They thought their weapons would protect them. They may have been strong, but the marsh is stronger still.”

Kurt steps forward and interjects, “You don’t seem too concerned with that.”

"Tir Fradi gives, Tir Fradi takes back."

Watching as the man shrugs, Kurt stands in formation, ready to grab his sword.

“I found this note with the bodies. It mentions some kind of ritual but it’s too faded to make out.

“A ritual for those who cannot wait. Me? I am patient. I wait.”

“Wait? Wait for what?”

The man reaches out a long bony finger and points at the raised platform across the way. “Do you see the drums? If you play them correctly, they awaken the earth.”

‘What does that mean?”

Ignoring her question, the man continues, “Once the earth awakens, the stone will appear. You must quench the stone.”

“How do you play the drums?”

“You must play each drum, and each drum must be played only once. Respect the natural order, the cycle of life and the earth will hear you.”

Elizabeth turns and looks in the direction of the drums.

“Greenblood, are you sure?”

“If this will get me closer to a cure or an understanding…”

He nods and jumps down over the ledge ahead of them with Siora and Elizabeth following behind as they reenter the inner circle once more and climb the stairs to the platform which they can now see indeed holds three drums. Each one is painted with an image from each of the three murals upon it. The third mural which was so old that it was faded beyond recognition now is clearly some sort of lizard-like creature in red and green.

“He said to respect the cycle of life. I suppose that the insect would be eaten by the lizard which would then be eaten by the snake,” shs says softly as she steps closer.

"Try it and see what happens..."

She plays each drum one time in that order, turning as a rattling noise sounds behind them. They watch as a strange object emerges from the middle of the circle. It appears as some kind of statuary, with branches climbing up.

Kurt watches warily as Elizabeth descends the stone stairs and approaches it.

“A stone altar?” she says, barely perceptible from his position behind and some distance away. “Stone. Quench the stone…”

Elizabeth removes the bottle of liquid from her pouch and kneels as she begins to pour it over the altar. The whole thing jerks suddenly while she is still pouring the liquid over it. Kurt watches as it moves again, springing up this time, and Elizabeth stumbles back, falling into the swampy water.

“Greenblood!” Kurt yells, already barreling down the stairs. He grabs her around her waist and begins to pull her to her feet, trying to drag her away as a face appears, rising ever higher and towering over them.

Two long arms climbing its way up, the mouth opens and roars at them as tentacle-like vines reach out toward them from the creature’s face and body as it writhes its way out of the swampy ground. Using its elongated arms, it advances on the three of them, slapping out with the tentacles.

Not again. Kurt will not let Elizabeth face this one on her own. Pulling his sword, he shoves Elizabeth behind him watching the creature, looking for a weakness.

As it moves closer, turning in circles trying to lash out at one of them, he realizes that while the tentacles and arms are dangerous facing it head on, it has little to no defenses at its back.

“Greenblood, if you and Siora can keep it distracted, I can sneak around behind it and take it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just stay out of its reach,” he pleads with both of them.

Watching as they back up and begin to use light magic attacks, keeping more than enough distance between them and the creature, but also holding its attention, Kurt ducks down and slips around behind it waiting for his opportunity.

The creature is large in both height and girth, but not exactly fast, moving almost in a lumbering fashion as it keeps advancing on Elizabeth and Siora who keep backing away out of its reach and throwing magic at it to keep it distracted.

Unsure how intelligent the creature is, Kurt knows he may only have one chance at this. Carefully, he takes his sword and steps up close as quickly and as quietly as he can, driving his blade into its back at an upward angle, attempting to hit its heart or lungs. It shrieks in anger and fear, twisting around and swinging its arm at him, knocking him from his feet and sending him flying several feet away.

His sword still protruding from its back, the creature stumbles on its feet, wheezing and slowing as it collapses to the ground, the audible sound of its heart beating slower until it stops.

Elizabeth is on him immediately, reaching up under his new armor, prodding his stomach and his back where he was shot, checking him over. “Are you okay, Kurt?”

Reaching up and touching her cheek, he finds his breath and manages to answer, “I’m fine, Greenblood.”

Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, the old man appears, staring from them to the creature. Stammering, he shouts, "Ná! Cer toncedág! Killed! You killed her! Monsters! Mur...murderers!!"

“Us?” Elizabeth asks incredulously. “You knew what would happen and you did nothing to stop it. Did you just assume this creature would kill us?”

"May the earth swallow you whole! You and those from the dark isle!”

“Siora what is happening?” Elizabeth asks over her shoulder.

“The Nádaig are our ancestors. He must have known her before her transformation.”

“Ancestors? Was she once a woman?”

Ancestors, guardians, Nádaig. Kurt recalls the creature they saw burned alive in San Matheus. Frightened, in pain, but not vicious that he could see. This one, like the one back in Old Serene, seemed more defensive and afraid than vengeful, but no less dangerous.

“Yes. Those who bond themselves, who call upon the powers of the earth, become one of the faces in time.”

"She was my woman! You and those of your cursed island are fools and destroyers. But En on mil frichtimen will soon send you back over the water. He will destroy you as you destroy us. He has already begun!"

The man moves over to where the creature slumps on the ground, glaring at Kurt as he carefully pulls his sword from her back, taking out a piece of cloth and wiping the blade clean before sheathing it over his back. “I’m not sure I understand all of this en on mil frichtimen business, but it sounds like he might be out to get us.”

“Carants, en on mil frichtimen is a protector. I cannot see him being vengeful. Nádaig are only dangerous when confronted. Like this.”

“For now, there is only one thing to do. Return to Derdre and get answers.”

Turning, they leave the old man behind, the three of them quiet and reticent all the way back to Vedleug.

As they enter Derdre’s abode, her face falls. “I should not be surprised. You are strong. You might even be as strong as my storm warriors.”

“You sent us into a trap!” Elizabeth says, her voice rising.

“This is true. And, sadly, your return means that the Nádaig is dead.”

“We had no choice,” she replies defensively, remorsefully. “We didn’t know what we were waking.”

“I know. You know things that no one outside of our clan knows. I hoped that you would disappear like all those who wander into the swamp, never to return. It was a costly error in judgment.”

“She was the spirit that granted your warriors their strength…” Siora mutters softly, reverently.

“She was. Now I ask that you keep all you have seen here to yourselves. And I would like to ask for your help.”

Elizabeth scoffs, her head shaking defiantly. “You send us out to be ambushed…and now you ask for my help?”

“You helped my people to find the camp where the saul lasser take their captives. You returned to me with understanding rather than vengeance. So, yes, I am now asking for your help in stopping those mind shakers from causing more suffering. Help me free the prisoners from their camp.”

“What do you need from me?” Elizabeth asks, her shoulders dropping as she yields.

“I need more warriors. Eseld of the gais rad is in my debt, but, after her recent defeat, she might refuse to help. Her sister is known to travel with you. You could convince her to help. And you could fight by my side.”

“I could try.”

“Meet us here with her warriors after you have spoken, and we will set upon this camp with our combined forces.”

“I will return.”

Elizabeth turns and leaves the hut, quickly passing through the village center and through the exit on the far side.

Siora reaches out and grips Elizabeth by the arm. “I do not think Eseld would agree to help, weakened as we are, but I want to see her.”

“It’s just as well, pretty flower. We should take this to the Mother Cardinal. If she is any kind of leader, she will want to know what is happening under her nose and will see that it is handled properly.”

“You’re right, Kurt. First, let’s go to San Matheus. After we deal with this camp, Siora, you should take a break and go see your sister.”

“I would like that, carants.”

Siora leads them as they follow the river back out to the road, the sky darkening along the way, and find a caravan waiting. Kurt imagines that it must have cost Elizabeth quite a bit of coin to convince the driver to return and wait for them.

As usual, they spread their bedrolls over the floor of the wagon and settle down with Kurt in the middle. Exhausted and aching from the one good blow the creature got in, the only thing on his mind now is getting some rest on the way to San Matheus. Leaning against his pack, he closes his eyes, ignoring the jostling of the caravan over the rough stretch of road and falls into sleep.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

The caravan stops suddenly as it reaches the San Matheus outpost, the driver calling out to his passengers, jarring them awake. Elizabeth wakes groggily, rubbing her eyes and stretching as a yawn erupts from her throat. At her back, Kurt stiffens next to her and abruptly begins to move toward the back, pulling his pack and his bedroll behind him.

Once they all have everything repacked, they pass through the outpost and follow the road to the city entrance, the guards quickly ushering them through. Elizabeth leads them to the embassy where they stow their packs before heading on to the palace with Siora tagging along rather than staying behind on her own this time.

When they enter the court, Mother Cardinal looks up from her guests, waving Elizabeth through the crowd. “Lady de Sardet, do you have anything to report?”

“We have concluded our investigation of the village of Vedleug, No demons to report, I’m afraid. Just a simple clan trying to live their lives in peace.”

“That contrasts with what the missionaries have told me.”

There are many things Elizabeth would like to say about these missionaries, and especially about the inquisitors, but there is too much at stake at present to risk angering the woman.

Playing fast and loose with words, she instead replies, “I am not doubting their sincerity, your Eminence. I had difficulty getting the villagers to speak with me. No doubt your priests had a much harder time.”

“Very well. We will leave them be. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“While we were in Vedleug, we learned of a camp, run by the Ordo Luminis. The inquisitors have been abducting natives and taking them to this camp to convert them by force.”

“How certain are you that this information is reliable?”

“Completely,” she replies, keeping her involvement in obtaining this information to herself. “I have seen a communique that spoke of this camp.”

“A communique? From whom? To whom?”

“I’m not sure who the letter was from, but it was addressed to a Father Claudius. It was an order to capture a group of natives and to bring them to the camp.”

“Father Caudius has been missing for some time now. Domitius, what do you know about this?”

“Other than the disappearance of Father Claudius and a few other members of the Order,” he says, casting an accusatory look at Elizabeth, “I know nothing of this matter. The pagan natives probably made it up in order to sully our reputation, your Eminence!”

“Natives who cannot write certainly did not fabricate a letter to a member of your order! If they are bringing this to the Congregation’s door, I must do something!”

“Then you must act quickly, your Eminence. Natives are preparing for an assault on the camp. Lives will be lost on both sides.”

“I must intervene. As the leader of this city, and overseer of the orders therein, it falls upon my shoulders to right these wrongs. I will send my troops to secure this camp and release the captives. Excellency, will you agree to go with them and collect any evidence once the camp is secured?”

She glances over her shoulder for a moment to Kurt who nods encouragingly, his face practically beaming at her. “You want me to lead the attack?”

“I will put my best men at your disposal,” she says as she steps behind a pedestal and begins to write. Folding and stamping it, she hands a paper to Elizabeth. “Take this to the barracks and give it to Quartermaster Herbert. May the Enlightened guide you in this endeavor.”

As they turn and head back for the door, they overhear the Mother Cardinal and Domitius in a heated exchange. The words from her mouth, ‘you will pay with your life’ put a smug smile on Elizabeth’s face as she steps through the door.

Back in the square, Kurt leads them straight ahead and through an arch to the north, turning a couple of times and passing by the port before they see the large Coin Guard headquarters ahead of them. Instead of taking the nearest door on the west side, he heads all the way around the corner to the back of the building, opening a set of double doors.

Inside, Elizabeth sees a tall and brawny man with dark skin, his deep voice greeting her warmly, “Welcome. Quartermaster Herbert. What can I do for you?”

“Legate de Sardet, of the Congregation. I was sent by the Mother Cardinal,” she replies, offering the folded paper in her outstretched hand.

Taking the letter from her, he quickly reads through it, his expression changing. “I see. If you ask me it’s about time those inquisitors were brought down a peg or two. I’ll assemble a company and brief them on the mission. It says here that you’re to show us the location and to search the place after it is secured?”

“That seems to be the wishes of the Mother Cardinal, yes.”

“A third party with no vested interest is probably best, your Excellency.”

Elizabeth moves to a map on the wall and points out the location northeast of the city where the camp should be. “Here. This is where the natives were told they could find the camp.”

“There is an old Coin Guard training camp there. Abandoned. I had no idea the Order had taken it over. We will meet you outside the city gates and travel on together from there.”

She nods and turns, Kurt and Siora following her back out into the street, headed around the east side of the building and back towards the embassy.

“Kurt, do you honestly think this is wise?” she asks skeptically as she turns the corner and leads them down a covered alley littered with crates and barrels.

“She’s not asking you to join the Guard, just to point them in the right direction and make sure that any evidence is collected and not destroyed. I have faith in you.”

“We’re not getting involved in this fight,” she says, glancing at him over her shoulder. “And that means you.”

“Understood, Greenblood.”

They pass an outdoor cafe, several tables spread out over a raised wood patio, and round a corner that brings them back to the gated embassy. Only stepping inside long enough to grab their packs, they quickly leave and make the short walk back to the city gate where they wait for Quartermaster Herbert and his company of guards to show up.

“Carants, I admit that I was wrong before.”

Elizabeth turns to look at her, leaning against a nearby fence. “About what?”

Siora begins to speak quickly, as if trying to get it all out in one breath. “You seem to have a good rapport with the leader of this city. She trusts you enough to take your word and to put her men behind you. If you had caused an incident with that inquisitor…” she trails off, finally taking a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Siora. You had every right to be upset.”

“I see now that you have many loyalties. You cannot please all of them all of the time.”

“I’m glad that you’ve come to understand.”

Watching the young native, she sees how tired and in need of a break she is. Once they finish this mission, she will take her home with orders to rest and take time to grieve with her sister.

Starting out softly, the sound of boots marching down the street behind them grows and they see Herbert round the corner, leading his troops in their direction. Once they clear the gate, he puts up his hand to signal a halt. He briefly speaks to three of the men before they run off, disappearing down a path to the north.

“Your Excellency, this way,” Herbert says as he leads them east along the road and then diverging from the path to the north between two rocky cliffs. “I’ve sent a few of my best to scout out the area and report back the best entry points and how many men we’re up against. We’ll encamp nearby and wait for nightfall to keep the element of surprise.”

“To be clear, the goal is to arrest those involved?”

At this point, they turn into an opening and the troops behind them automatically squeeze into a tighter formation to pass through the narrow ravine.

“Yes, the Mother Cardinal wants to take as many of those responsible alive as possible and to see that they are properly punished.”

The ravine opens to a clearing. A lightly worn path through the undergrowth leads them to a larger, partly concealed area further north.

“At ease,” Herbert calls out to his troops. “We’ll wait here for nightfall. Once my scouts return with the information they’ve gathered, we’ll plan the assault.”

“Remember that we don’t want them to have time to start killing their captives or to destroy any evidence.”

"Understood, your Excellency. We'll be quick and efficient."

Waiting for nightfall wears on her nerves. If only she could speed time and get the whole thing over with, to know that everyone is safe and the captives free and headed home…but she can only sit and continue to wait with a growing ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. If anything goes wrong, she is the one who is responsible.

Next to her, Kurt leans in and whispers, “It’s going to be okay, Greenblood.” Hidden between them, his fingers brush over her open hand, his thumb working a comforting circle into her palm.

When the three scouts finally return, she jumps to her feet and rushes up to where they huddle with Herbert, listening in silently.

“They look to have around a score of men in and around the camp, but between all the areas they’re guarding, they are spread thin.”

“In their arrogance, they probably have no idea we’re coming then. That works to our advantage,” Herbert replies satisfactorily.

“There are captives in the cages on the east end of the camp and probably more inside.”

“The goal is to take as many of the Order prisoner and save as many of the captives as we can. This means a swift and quiet assault. Moving through the areas one by one, overwhelming them as quickly and quietly as possible.”

“There are two main entrances, one in front at the main level, and one in back at the basement level. The third floor should be the barracks and office.”

Turning from the scouts, Herbert calls, “Attention.” The men immediately line up awaiting his orders. “We will split into two platoons and take both sides at once, you three stay behind to catch any potential escapees,” he says to the three scouts. “Take them by surprise and then rush the ones inside. Once we have the place secure, her Excellency will come in and search for evidence to return to the Mother Cardinal.”

“At your orders, sir.”

Gesturing at the man standing next to him, a full helm covering his face, he says, “Lieutenant Menard will lead his men in an assault from the front. I’ll wait for the assault at the front to begin and then simultaneously lead the attack from the back. Your Excellency, you will follow me. Let’s move out, tight formation, keep it stealthy.”

As the sky darkens, Elizabeth follows Herbert around the bend and through another narrow ravine that leads up and around to the back of the camp, on a ledge looking down. Herbert looks from the front to the back, watching for the other platoon to start the attack.

“Are you ready, your Excellency?”

Nodding, she swallows dryly.

“Keep your distance and only move up when I tell you.” Herbert gives Kurt a look waiting for his response.

“Understood.”

She can hear the tired resignation in Kurt’s voice. He wants to be more involved, but she already asked him to sit this one out. And now Herbert has ordered the same.

As the fighting begins, Herbert rushes the back of the camp, quickly overwhelming the three priests on guard and taking them prisoner before they have a chance to react. Leaving a couple of men to guard them, he moves inside, Elizabeth, Kurt and Siora move forward but wait outside near a storage shed full of crates and barrels.

Pacing back and forth, her stomach churns, bile rising in her throat. Tearing a skein from her pack, she gulps down water, trying to ease the burn.

“You okay, Greenblood?” Kurt asks, immediately at her side.

She gulps down some more water, finally nodding. “I will be when this is over.”

It’s all over before she can even replace the skein in her bag, the guards already beginning to file out of the building with their prisoners bound and gagged.

Herbert approaches with his own prisoner pushed along in front of him. “We captured every last one of them. They hardly put up a fight. Sadly, the captives that were caged in the east wing were already dead, probably for days, but we freed everyone being held inside.”

Her heart drops at the news of the caged natives. She hoped to be able to save all of them.

“Send some of your men to take the released captives to your outpost. Feed them and let them rest and then escort them to the village of Vedleug. And make arrangements for the dead to be delivered there as well. The rest of your men can accompany the prisoners back to the barracks. After I conduct my search, I will return to the Mother Cardinal with my report.”

"At your command, your Excellency."

She watches for a moment as Herbert selects several men to escort the released natives before the rest of them march their prisoners back to the city.

Taking the stairs down and coming around, passing by a large outbuilding, Elizabeth leads Kurt and Siora inside. The place is eerily quiet, nothing moving or making a sound.

On a table near the door where they entered, she finds a sort of registry. “This must be where they brought the natives upon arrival.”

The registry has no names, just short descriptions and ages, followed by the methods used on them and whether they were ‘returned to the light’ or had been successfully converted. Her stomach turns again at the choice of words which mark far too many of the entries.

“Kurt, please take this…” she says, passing the registry to him.

In the next room there is another empty cell and a set of stars that lead up. On the next floor, through the first door, they find some kind of mess hall with tables and half eaten food sitting out. Back out in the main room, through another door on the opposite side, they discover some sort of prayer room, surrounded by tables full of candles on each wall.

In a small room, off to the side, on a small desk, Elizabeth finds another book. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a list of names of the Ordo Luminis members involved with the camp, including Father Claudius. None of the other names are familiar to her, but she has a feeling they will be of great interest to the Mother Cardinal.

As she steps back into the other room, she hands this book off to Kurt as well. “Thank you,” she mutters, gratefully.

Back out in the main room, they move up to the top floor. The first door at the end of the stairs leads to the empty dormitory, but, in the next room, they discover a ledger on a desk in the corner. Flipping through a few pages, Elizabeth realizes she is holding a very important piece of evidence. It is an account book for the Ordo Luminis. Not just for this camp, but for the entire organization. Expenses, assets, it is all in her hands.

This book she stuffs into her pack, watching as Kurt stuffs the other books into his own bag.

“We’re done here,” she says softly, glancing around one last time before quickly leaving, heading down the stairs and out the main entrance into the cool night air, taking in several gulps of air before heading back towards the city.

“Greenblood?”

She stops in her tracks, turning and giving him her bravest face. “I’m fine. Simply glad to be done.”

“Are you sure?”

No. She’s not. But she has no time to think about that now. She’s tired and a little broken, disappointed that she was too late to save everyone.

“Let’s head back to the embassy. I’ll report to the Mother Cardinal in the morning.”

“Lady de Sardet. I have had a report from Quartermaster Herbert. Those responsible are being held in the Coin Guard jails.”

“Yes, and the captives are hopefully on their way home. I’ve also requested that the bodies at the camp be taken to the village of Vedleug. I’ll inform their leader.”

“I’ll see that it’s done. What did you find in your search of the camp?”

“I found a few books which list those involved and detail their crimes among other…implications.

Stepping forward, she hands the three books to the assistant at the woman’s side, watching as she takes the first one from the stack, the registry which she had intentionally placed on top of the others. As she begins to skim through it, her eyes widen in horror at the crimes written in the perpetrators’ own hands.

“This…is horrifying,” she replies, dropping the book to her lap. “I assure you I will pour through every single page and make sure that every last one of those responsible pays dearly.” Turning to the man standing nearby, she continues, “And you, Domitius, you will answer for this.”

“Your Eminence, I had no idea…”

“No more. There will be a full investigation into the Order and your business and what remains of that camp will be completely dismantled. Even if you were not involved, I demand an explanation. How could your men get so far out of your oversight and control?!”

The man shuts his mouth but glares at de Sardet with malice. This is not finished. She has definitely just made an enemy. At her back, she can feel the mad heat coming off of Kurt in waves. She spreads her hand with her palm open at her side, hoping he sees and gets her meaning. Not here. Not now.

“Your troops’ valiant efforts saved the lives of many native captives.”

“They will be rewarded, but I must give my thanks to you, Excellency. For bringing this matter to my attention, for graciously assisting. You have saved our reputation and you have shown yourself to be a priceless ally. I am in your debt. If, at some point in the future, I can be of assistance…”

“I am glad I was able to help.”

“I hate to ask for another favor, so soon…” Cornelia begins, hesitating for a moment, “but I have a dilemma. Our missionaries have set up a community within a native village, they call it Eden. They live in harmony among the natives there, but, recently, there seems to have been some strife. Some tablets that they had discovered, tablets believed to have been engraved by Saint Matheus himself, have gone missing.”

“These tablets would be rather important for your faith and you would like for me to go to this village and investigate?” Elizabeth asks in a voice feigning sincerity. Her lack of sleep the night before has her tired and ready to return home to her lovely bed.

“Indeed. And as you seem to have such a good rapport with the natives…”

“Very well. I will go and see what I can find out.”

“Thank you, your Excellency. Father Iustinius is the leader of the community. He should be able to help with any questions.”

Elizabeth bows her head respectfully, takes a few steps back and turns to the door.

As they take the steps down to the main square, Siora suddenly asks, “What about returning to my village, Carants?”

Without turning or stopping, Elizabeth continues to lead them back toward the Embassy. “I need to return to Derdre and inform her about the camp. Before we reach Vedleug, we’ll separate, and you can continue on to your village if you feel safe to go on alone. Kurt and I can handle a simple investigation into some missing tablets.”

“Are you sure?”

Finally glancing back over her shoulder, Elizabeth sees the expression on Kurt’s face, surprise and anticipation at the thought of the two of them being alone together for a while. “I’m sure,” she replies with a smile.

Stopping by the Embassy, they grab their packs and head out of the city, following the road back through the outpost and to the caravan. Elizabeth makes arrangements and pays the driver and climbs in back, settling in next to Kurt.

While Siora sleeps, Elizabeth leans into Kurt’s left side, her arm linked through his. “Kurt, did I do well back there?”

“You did perfectly, Greenblood,” he replies softly, pressing a kiss to her head.

“You saw the way Father Domitius looked at me?”

“Couldn’t miss it. I wanted to sink my sword into his gullet.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she laughs quietly, turning her face into his shoulder, practically mouthing the words against him. “Well, I think we’re both glad you didn’t do that!”

“Only because it would look bad on you. But he may just give me another opportunity. If I’m patient enough.”

Laughing again, she leans more into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “It will be nice, just the two of us for a while.”

“Are you tired?”

“No. And yes,” she answers quickly, both being correct. Her constant tossing and turning the night before had kept her from getting enough sleep, but it had also kept her from dreaming bad dreams.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

He will never let anything happen to her. His voice, more than his words, tells her this. She closes her eyes, the scent of soap still fresh on Kurt’s skin from earlier that morning, mixed with his usual scent of leather and oil filling her nose as she drifts off to sleep.

Sometime later, with the sky getting ever darker, she awakes to Kurt gently shaking her.

“Time to go on foot, Greenblood,” he says softly into her ear.

Again, they roll the bedrolls and repack them. Glancing around, she sees Siora climbing down, Kurt offering his hand which she takes immediately. Not because she needs assistance, but simply because he offered it, climbing down to the ground and watching the caravan turn and head back towards San Matheus.

After following the river a short way to a crossing, Siora stops and gestures to the east. “This is where I must leave you.”

“Siora, be careful. And take all the time you need. You need to spend time with your sister, with your people. If you still want to come back, we’ll see you in New Serene when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, carants,” Siora replies, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before she walks off in the opposite direction, looking back over her shoulder at them once before disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

Watching her go, Elizabeth leans back against Kurt who stands solidly behind her, gently crossing his arm over her chest and gripping her arm.

“Let’s go,” he says, once again offering his hand.

Nodding, she takes his hand, feeling it close gently around hers as they follow the now familiar trail that leads them back to Vedleug. Even under nothing but moonlight, the path is easy to follow, and they make good time with Elizabeth getting more accustomed to traipsing through the woods, building more stamina for it.

“Where’s the fire?”

She stops and turns to look at Kurt who laughs at the confusion on her face.

“What’s your hurry, Greenblood?”

“Well it is getting rather late. As disagreeable as she is, I don’t want to see what Derdre is like when awakened in the middle of the night.”

“Good thinking,” he replies, picking up his pace and grasping her hand in his as they quickly make their way back to Vedleug.

“You are back. Alone…Eseld has refused to help?”

“No,” she replies, choosing her next words carefully. “In truth, I never asked her. I went to San Matheus and spoke to the Mother Cardinal directly. Your people have been freed and should be on their way here. Those responsible have been captured and await justice.”

“You think us too weak to fight and free our own people?” she asks indignantly, her stance rigid and unyielding.

“No. Not at all. The Mother Cardinal was furious when I informed her about the camp. She insisted on taking care of it herself. She is also sending the bodies of those who didn’t survive to your village. I thought it the right thing to do.”

Derdre visibly softens. A little. It is something at least.

“I see. Perhaps there is hope for her yet. I will see to it that their families are informed so they may retrieve their loved ones.”

“She seems genuinely interested in making peace with the people of this land.”

“We shall see. As for you, on ol menawi, you have proven yourself a carants to our clan. I thank you. You will stay tonight.”

“Thank you Derdre,” Elizabeth says, taking her hand in hers for a moment before stepping back and quietly leaving her abode.

Outside, she crosses to the hut where they stayed the last time they were in Vedleug, Kurt close on her heels, their feet whispering across the grass. When they reach the hut, he places a few logs into the fire pit and she shows off just a little creating dancing flames that she directs into the pit, quickly catching and beginning to warm the space around them.

Watching as Kurt lays out his bedroll on the far side of the fire, she debates where she should place hers, tempted to lay it alongside his.

What could it hurt?

She pulls the bedroll from her pack, Kurt watching as she walks around the fire, stepping up next to where he sits, rolling it out right next to him and settling down without looking away.

“Greenblood?” he mutters, his voice already slightly breathless.

Her intention is not to make him uncomfortable. Rather, she feels more comfortable the closer they are to each other. She seeks his warmth and his comfort. But these things she can hardly say. Instead, she stammers, “I’m not trying to push you, Kurt. I just want to be close to you. I don’t know when we’ll be alone together again.”

He nods but keeps his distance, pulling some rations from his pack and offering some to her. Taking some cheese and a biscuit, she begins to nibble at it, washing it down with water from her skein, watching him closely all the while.

When they both grow bored with the food, she lies on her side with her elbow bent, head resting on her arm. She watches him intensely as he settles onto his side, his upper body propped up on one arm looking down and staring right back at her.

Elizabeth reaches out for him and sighs softly when he reaches back, taking her hand in his. His expression shifts from mirth to something dicey, when she tugs at him, setting a fire inside her. Pulling Kurt ever closer, she reaches up his arm, pulling at his shoulder, then his neck, her thumb tracing up his cheek and to his brow, gently pressing into his scar.

She wants so much more than what he is able to give her right now. And she hates herself for feeling that way. Every time they are close like this, she always ends up pushing him too far.

Just as she is about to let her hand fall back to her side, Kurt closes the distance between them, his hand pushing her to her back as he leans over her, their chests heaving against each other, hearts beating wildly.

Even as she thinks better of it, she is slipping her hand to the nape of his neck, tugging his face close enough that their lips meet, her leg slipping between and wrapping around his as he deepens the kiss. She gasps against his lips, exhaling into his mouth before he trails his lips to her birthmark, slowly kissing his way down her neck.

“Kurt…” she gasps as his hand follows the contour of her body down to her waist, gripping her hip tightly for just a moment before everything stops, jerking her out of the moment.

“I’m sorry…” he mutters against her skin before he is pulling back, retreating into his own space.

“Kurt,” she says again, cupping his face in her hand, “you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Why?”

His eyes are pleading with her now. Soft and vulnerable, needy.

“Because if anyone is to blame, it’s me.”

“No,” he replies, shaking his head, a pained look on his face. “I mean why are you waiting for me?”

“Because, despite what you have been taught to believe, you are worth waiting for. You are worthy.”

“So are any number of men. Like Vasco. Why me?”

The idiot. She has told him in every way possible except in words. Out of fear that he would put even more distance between them. That he might push her away again.

Kurt can be unpredictable when it comes to expressing and accepting feelings, but he obviously needs more. He needs her to take that leap of faith and say it.

So, she jumps with her heart and her eyes wide open.

“Because, you big lunk, I love you…”

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

“Because, you big lunk, I love you…”

At first, Kurt doubts his own ears, pushing himself up and away, rising to a seated position as he tries to make sense of what he’s heard.

He has to have misheard.

Despite Vasco’s remarks that she loves him, he has never truly believed it. How could he? Someone like her…and someone like him…That she wants him, that much is clear, but even in his wildest dreams he has never imagined Elizabeth wanting more than to share his bed. And that was once enough. More than a man like him could have expected.

But those words on her lips, so few words have never held so much meaning for him before. And it means…everything.

Suddenly his breathing is quick and shallow, prickles rise over his flesh, and he stares down at her face, his completely rattled brain unable to make the words come. The longer he stares, the less his mind seems to want to cooperate, and the moment is passing him by.

She quickly rises, pulling her knees up to her chest, her eyes sharply focused on his as she clasps her hands together, arms wrapped around her legs. Waiting…

Quick man! Say something!

Kurt gently reaches out to cup her face in his hand, feeling the texture of her birthmark against his palm. He opens his mouth to speak and his breath hitches in his throat. He takes a deep shuddering breath and sighs, “I…I don’t quite know when it started, but I know this; I have loved you every moment of every day since we left Serene. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you. I never knew I could love someone the way I love you.”

For a long moment, she stares back at him, the silence stretching so far between them that Kurt begins to wonder if he said the wrong thing or waited too long to speak. Then she rises to her knees, tucking her legs under her and leaning in closer.

“I have loved you for years,” she whispers, leaning into his palm on her cheek, placing her hand over his.

“When?”

She reaches her hand out and gently traces her fingers over the hard lines of his face, murmuring back, “I have loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, Kurt. From the first time you put a sword in my hand. Every time you called me Greenblood. When you trained me so hard I hated you. When you protected me and watched out for me. When you stood beside me. When you believed in me. Every time I looked at you across a crowded ballroom wishing for just…one dance with you, or heard you pacing outside my room after, hoping you would come in. I have loved you through all of it.”

As she continues to speak, he finds it harder and harder to stay on his side of the line between their bedrolls.

“All that time?”

“All that time. There was never anyone else for me.”

Swallowing around the sudden dryness, he murmurs, “Greenblood,” a warmth spreading through him at the way she smiles at that, “I promise, I will find a way to be the man you deserve.”

“You already are.”

“No…”

“Kurt, please don’t put me on a pedestal like every other man I’ve known. By the chance of birth, I have privilege and wealth, but I am nothing more than an empty title. Nothing more,” she whispers with a gentle shake of her head, turning her face into his hand and kissing his empty palm.

It’s all he has to give. But, just maybe, it’s all she needs.

Elizabeth has everything she could want handed to her or within her reach. Kurt is the one thing she could never buy at any price. The one thing she has ever had to fight for. And how she fought for him all these years…

Still, this is now a far more delicate situation than ever. When she wanted him, he was prepared to give up his claim when she met someone else or when her uncle forced her into marriage. But, now that she loves him, that is impossible. He will never leave her side. Not unless she tells him to.

“What are you thinking about?”

He takes a deep breath and releases it in a sigh. “How damn lucky I am.”

“You? You would have met plenty of women who were just as good as me, if not better. You don’t know how amazing and rare you are, Kurt. I’m the lucky one.”

Despite his head telling him it’s all just kindness, he knows deep down that’s simply not true. Elizabeth never lies. Not to him.

As much as he would like to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close for the rest of the night, trusting himself is out of the question.

“We have to leave for Eden tomorrow. We should get some rest.”

She nods, leaning forward and placing her hands on his thighs, sending a shiver up his spine as she brushes her lips against his open mouth, pressing in with a deep kiss that leaves both of them breathless.

“Goodnight,” she whispers as she settles back on her bedroll and to her side, still staring at his face for a long time until her eyes finally close.

Somehow, he feels like the moment that just passed might be the best one they ever have. Being with her is something his mind cannot even begin to fathom, but her admission washes over him, flooding his heart with warmth. Unexpected but welcome.

For a long time, he lays there watching her, his emotions too overwhelming to let him sleep. Eventually, fatigue muddles his thinking, leaving him unfocused and drowsy and he closes his eyes, falling into a restful sleep.

Even before Kurt begins to open his eyes, he feels a weight over his chest. When his eyelids pop open, he looks down to see Elizabeth’s arm draped over his body and her head pressed into his shoulder and chest, her leg hooked around his. For a moment, he begins to panic, trying to figure out how to move her without waking her and letting her see them in such an indelicate position.

But then she snuggles in, holding him tighter and, in a thick voice, mutters, “Morning.”

“Uh…morning?”

“Kurt, calm down and just let me enjoy this. It’s too damn early for building walls, don’t you think?”

Right to the point. It’s one of the things he loves about her. She is unfailingly kind, but unflinchingly blunt when it matters. She disarms him at every turn.

“I think my days of putting up walls are over,” he whispers into her hair, breathing her in.

“Mmmm, I’m glad to hear it.”

“And…I’m sorry. For all the times I didn’t trust in you to know yourself. I’ve been an insufferable bastard.”

She glances up at his face, obviously confused, muttering, “Whatever you’re talking about, Kurt, water under the bridge…”

“I’m talking about all the times you’ve tried to get closer to me and I’ve pushed you away. It was condescending and you deserved better,” he says, his arms tightening around her.

She presses her face into his neck, laying light kisses over his skin. “Whatever has come over you, I could get used to this…if you’ll let me.”

“Greenblood,” he says, turning her face up to look into his eyes, “I’m done trying to tell you what you deserve. I’m going to trust you to know what you need and what you want and what’s best for you.”

“I love you.”

Gently grasping her chin, Kurt pulls her lips within reach, gasping the words into her mouth, “I love you more,” before pulling her tightly against him, letting her take his kiss and his breath away.

He finds himself smiling when she lets his words lie instead of trying to argue against them. It would be a stalemate anyway, neither willing to give in, both as stubborn as can be. And all he wants right now is to lay there with her for as long as possible before they have to be on their way.

Sometime later, she sighs softly, lifting her head from his chest and looking into his eyes. “As much as I would like to stay right here, we should be leaving soon.”

“I know. I rather like it too, Greenblood,” he says, tucking that stubborn loose strand of hair behind her ear as she leans in for one more kiss, warm and tender, leaving him wanting.

They both stand and begin to wind their bedrolls up tightly, stuffing them deep into their packs, pulling out their skeins and some rations as they walk out the door.

Once they reach the outskirts of the village of Vedleug, Kurt steps up closer to Elizabeth, taking her hand in his as they walk together. Occasionally, he glances over at her face, catching the hint of a smile on her lips.

Passing by the carved standing stones that line the path, they keep following the trail west, following Derdre’s directions, until it leads them up and over a hill, the village of Eden sitting at the bottom. A large structure that is certainly not native in design takes shape, rising above the rest of the village, a church, which at its elevation makes for one of the highest steeples Kurt has ever seen. It makes a statement.

Elizabeth follows along the fence that marks the edge of the village with Kurt close at her heels as they enter and come to a set of stairs leading up to where the construction is taking place in a large, raised area. When they reach it, they find a man who they assume must be the priest they are looking for. Kurt glances to their right at a very large, covered statue that must be a likeness of their founder, Saint Matheus.

Wearing vestments, with a hat that covers much of his face except for a mustache and narrow strip of a beard, the man greets them, “Welcome to Eden, the lighthouse of faith. I am Father Iustinius.”

“My name is de Sardet, legate to the Merchant Congregation. The Mother Cardinal sent me to investigate the theft of some tablets?”

“Ah, wonderful! The tablets are priceless relics, we must get them back. Speak with Sister Eugenia,” he says, pointing to the south of the church.

“Do you have any idea who might have taken the tablets?”

“Most likely those heretics from Vedleug. The village is very close by.”

Kurt glances over at Elizabeth. They both know that Derdre would have nothing to gain from stealing some stone tablets carved by an old man.

“Why are missionaries creating a community within an already established native village?”

“The islanders called this place Vigsoneigad, which means village of the old sage. Named in memory of Saint Matheus. This place is exactly as described by Saint Lucius. The discovery of the tablets confirmed everything. So, we decided to build our Eden here,” he says, gesturing with his hands at the space around them.

“And the natives? How did they feel about this?

“They were reluctant at first, but they have come around. Most of them. And those who resisted have left.”

“Where did they go?”

“Most of them went to Vedleug I’m sure. But those who stayed are on the path of enlightenment. They have legends that speak of Saint Matheus, so it was easy to convert them.”

After their experience in the Ordo Luminis camp, the word convert rubs Kurt the wrong way. These people may not be part of the inquisition, but to him there’s not much difference between the two.

“And Vedleug? How are your relations with them?”

“Not good. We sent missionaries there, but they wouldn’t even speak with them. They’re a violent and heretical cult.”

“I will speak with Sister Eugenia,” Elizabeth says with a respectful nod of her head as she turns and walks back down the stairs.

They follow the path cut into the rock that takes them down below where several missionaries are gathered, approaching the lone woman among so many men.

“Are you Sister Eugenia?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Legate de Sardet. The Mother Cardinal sent me. Father Iustinius said I should speak with you about the missing tablets. Do you have any idea who might have been behind the theft?”

“The others seem to believe that Vedleug is behind it, but I think it was one of the villagers who were forced to leave.”

“Where did the theft occur?”

“We were keeping the tablets here,” she says, nodding in the direction of the building behind her. “We had planned to bring them back to San Matheus when we were finished examining them. Please, take a look. Perhaps you will have better luck.”

“Was no one keeping guard?”

“We took turns. It was Brother Virgil who was guarding them that night.”

“Mother Cardinal and Father Iustinius would have it believed that your community and the local natives get along famously.”

“Well, they were afraid of us, at first. They thought we would chase them away or destroy their raised stones and sanctuaries. The warriors of the village even attacked us, with the help of Vedleug, but the inquisitors came and ran them off. Then the chief, Ler, spoke to his people and they calmed down.”

“Thank you. This has been enlightening.”

“Of course. Anything to help retrieve the tablets.”

As the woman goes back to her work, Elizabeth turns and slowly approaches an older graying man, who she assumes must be Brother Virgil, nearby who is currently praying at an altar. “Hello, I am de Sardet, legate of the Congregation. I’m investigating the theft of the tablets.”

“Brother Virgil. What can I do for you?”

“Sister Eugenia told me you were the one who was guarding the tablets when they were stolen.

“That it true,” he says, devoid of any sense of guilt.

“Did you see or hear anything?”

“No. It was quiet. It wasn’t until morning that we realized the tablets were gone.

“How could someone get in to steal them without attracting any attention?”

The man looks from one to the other and in a rather annoyed voice, states, “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Can you tell me if there is anyone you suspect?”

“I can tell you that it wasn’t one of us. The tablets are priceless. Their only value is in what they mean to us. However, the natives did seem rather attached to the tablets themselves.”

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at the place where the tablets were kept.”

“Do as you like,” he indicates the building Sister Eugenia stands before, “but there is nothing to discover. Besides, it hardly matters. The existence of the tablets is enough proof that Saint Matheus lived here. Our actions are justified. Why keep upsetting the natives?”

“That seems…unexpected. Your colleagues seem very interested in getting the tablets back.”

“I am not from San Matheus like the others. I was sent here with a small group by my superiors directly from Thélème, hoping to study new texts. But, once we arrived, we realized our true purpose was to bring the light to the entire island.”

“What purpose?” she asks, her voice apprehensive, as she quickly tucks her hands behind her back.

“Bishop Domitius is my superior here on the island. Our mission is to end the pagan worship and convert the entire island to the light. The God of Light offered this island to Saint Matheus, and it therefore belongs to Thélème, by divine right!”

There’s that word again. Convert. This sounds far more sinister than the Mother Cardinal led them to believe. Talk of converting the whole island.

“I suspect that most of the natives will not accept that quietly.”

“You are probably right. They have proven to be very resistant to change, fighting our attempts to educate them. The warriors and the...marked,” he says snidely, taking a quick glance at the mark on her face, “the ones the natives call the on ol menawi, especially. But they finally left, and it has been nothing but a blessing.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave you to your work.”

Kurt follows Elizabeth to the building where the tablets were stored, quickly inspecting the lock before they enter, noting the single entrance.

Brother Virgil is right that there is nothing physical to be discovered here. However, it is the lack of evidence that tells a story. No forced entry. No signs of a struggle. Only the tablets seem to be missing where there are other holy relics still laying around, left untouched.

“Greenblood, whoever took the tablets must have either had a key or was let in. They only took the tablets and left everything else behind. There is no sign of a struggle. Either this Virgil let them in, which seems unlikely, or he fell asleep, and they took his keys, letting themselves in.”

“You think they knew he was the weakest link?”

“It’s quite likely the thieves planned this for a time when he would be on guard which means someone in the village had to have helped them.”

“We should speak with the chief. He might know who would have done this.”

“Greenblood?” he asks softly, barely touching her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to follow through on this?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t retrieve the tablets, they will get the inquisitors involved again. But there’s something else too.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember back in Serene, when I found the supposed heretics?”

He mostly remembers how it felt to wait outside, keeping an eye on Constantin and not being beside her. “Yes. What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything, Kurt. That is why Brother Virgil is here. And that’s why he doesn’t seem to care about finding the tablets. Thélème sent him here to keep things under control. They don’t want any inconvenient secrets coming to light about Saint Lucius or Saint Matheus.”

“Like the kind of secrets that might undermine their faith.”

The last time, they were willing to condemn two of their own to death to protect their secrets. There is no limit to what they would do to a bunch of natives.

“Exactly. They want only their convoluted interpretations of any writings to spread, serving their own interests, so they can take over the entire island under the guise of spreading the word of the enlightened.”

“Do you think the Mother Cardinal is aware of this?”

“No. She would not have asked for my help if she were trying to hide something.”

“I hope you’re right. The last thing we need is the Inquisition breathing down our necks.”

Elizabeth leads them back to the large hut they saw upon entering the village. It is raised up in a position of importance and where one could watch over the rest of the village. It must be the home of the village mâl.

Inside, the hut looks nearly identical to many they have seen, ceramic jars, candles, fire pit, earth floor covered sparsely with woven mats. And at the far end, a bearded man in an animal mask that covers most of his head.

“Hello, my name is de Sardet, legate to the Merchant Congregation.”

“My name is Ler. I am the leader of this village. You are on ol menawi? I did not know there were any among the lugeid blau.”

“There aren’t, that I know of.”

Kurt reaches out and presses his hand to her back. This just keeps coming up. Every new village brings more remarks and even more questions. Rarely delivering any answers. Not useful ones anyway.

“Curious. What is it that you want from me?”

“I hoped you would tell me about this place, in your words.”

His eyes narrow, suspiciously. “The priests just showed up and began to roam about the village, claiming it was the home of their saint. Suddenly, they began to build houses and we had new neighbors. At first, we resisted, and they responded violently, destroying our sanctuaries and stones. So, we let them talk, let them believe that we worship their god, and now they leave us alone. They often say pretty things, but their actions do not match their words.”

“What made you decide to help them?” she asks, reaching one hand behind her back and letting her fingers run across his.

“You must understand that the old sage is sacred to our village. These priests wanted to track the movements of the old sage and they trample over everything in their way. They violently interrogate my people. In the end, I thought it wise to give them something, so we showed them the place where they found the stones.”

“There are no warriors in your village. Where did they go?”

“They refused to play along and tried to take the village back by force. When Derdre stepped in to help, the priests sent for their inquisitors. They killed many warriors and the rest of them left when I asked them to make peace. I believe they have joined the village of Vedleug.”

Kurt recalls the ceremony they witnessed in Vedleug, wondering if any of those involved were from this village. Perhaps that was in preparation of an attack on Eden. They might have been able to stop it and save a few lives if they had known.

“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. The missionaries certainly paint a very different picture.”

“Thank you, on ol menawi. I mourn those we’ve lost, Andevaurshd tir ent, but to hold a grudge would get in the way of the opportunity we have here. For the renaigse to understand our people for what we are. Not savages, but men and women, perhaps wiser than they are.”

“I tend to agree, and I wish you success. But you must know I’m here to investigate the theft of the tablets and I think you might know who stole them.”

“Really?”

Even though they are entirely alone, she steps closer and lowers her voice so that even Kurt has a difficult time hearing her words. “It is obvious that those who were forced to leave still harbor some resentment. Someone in the village helped some of the exiles to steal the tablets.”

“Perhaps.”

“How long do you think it will be before the priests come to the same conclusion? If I can retrieve the tablets discreetly, they never have to know who was involved and the matter will be settled.”

Ler takes a deep breath and exhales heavily, muttering, “You are probably right. If the inquisitors return, my people will only suffer more. The one you seek is Vindwal. She was only acting as a mother trying to help her son. He is one of the exiles and he is filled with anger.”

“Thank you, and I promise no one needs to know.”

“I hope you keep to your word. Kwa awalem seg.”

“So, it seems that the missionaries have their own self-serving version of events. I would be willing to wager a pile of gold on which version is closer to the truth.”

“A sucker’s bet, Excellency,” Kurt replies, just a hint of a smile curling up one side of his mouth.

“Now, to find this Vindwal without arousing suspicion…”

As they walk back through the village, Kurt spots an older native woman who glances around nervously, wringing her hands as if in worry. Nodding his head in her direction, he follows Elizabeth’s line of sight as she watches her for a moment before approaching her quietly.

“Are you Vindwal?”

"Beurd tir to mad. I am she.”

“Don’t be alarmed, but I know that you helped the exiles to steal the tablets. I know you did it for your son, but, if I don’t retrieve them, the inquisitors will return, and everyone will suffer until they find the ones responsible. If you help me, I can get them back quietly without anyone knowing.”

“Bran and the other exiles are hiding in the woods,” she says after a moment’s hesitation. “There is a path to the north of the village, lined with standing stones, further up you will find a hidden trail. Follow it to where the earth drops but do not take the path on the left. And please…do not hurt my son.”

With a nod, Elizabeth turns and Kurt follows her back out of the village, headed north. They pass the stones along the path as they walk deeper into the woods. The opening to the hideout is tucked in next to an overhanging rock and they almost miss it.

Following it leads them to a ledge where they drop down quietly, quickly taking the path on the right all the way around to a small circular area set into the rock face which is covered in hanging vines. Four hand carved tablets sit arranged on a stone altar, unguarded. Quickly grabbing them and carefully placing them in their packs, they turn to sneak back out and avoid a confrontation with the exiles. As they climb back up the ledge, they run into Vindwal on their way out.

“I followed you because I was worried about my son.”

“I don’t think they’re even aware that we were here. We have the tablets, and we will return them quietly. You have my word.”

“Thank you. I will go speak to him. He must let this go and move on, find a new clan.”

“That would probably be for the best. I’m sure Derdre would welcome him, and he would still be close by. Thank you for your help.”

Upon their return to the village, Kurt follows as Elizabeth leads them back to Sister Eugenia. Pulling the tablets from their packs, they hand them off to the missionaries.

“I was able to retrieve your tablets.”

Eugenia takes one of the tablets in her hands, gently rubbing the carved surface reverently. “Thank you! We can now continue our research!” she says, looking up at Elizabeth.

“Who was behind the theft? They must be brought to justice.”

“Brother Virgil, I do not wish to assign blame. You have the relics back. That is all that should matter.”

“Your indulgence of these savages is not the virtue you think it is. If they are not caught and punished, what is to stop them from repeating this behavior?”

“Savages? How differently we see things. If you had not made enemies of them in the first place, none of this would have happened. Your fairytale of your relations with them does not line up with reality.”

Sister Eugenia interrupts. “In any case, we have the tablets back. Thank you for your help. Perhaps you could be of help again in the future.”

“If I have time or reason to return this way…”

“We’re certainly capable of continuing without her,” Brother Virgil says, cutting her off mid-sentence.

“I wish you success,” Elizabeth replies tersely, turning and walking away without another word.

Once they are back outside the village, they quietly follow the river south back to the East Road, emptying and refilling their skeins along the way.

“Well, no caravan this time, Greenblood.”

“I guess we travel on foot until we find one,” she replies as she adjusts her pack over her shoulder.

“I’m in no hurry to get back.”

She glances up at him with a soft smile before turning and walking along the road in the direction of New Serene. “Neither am I.”

Kurt steps up beside her and takes her hand in his, pressing it to his lips, keeping to her slow and steady pace. Occasionally, he looks down at her hand, soft and slender in his, which is larger and stronger, protective. Once they arrive back in the city, he’ll have to let go.

No, he’s in no hurry at all.

Chapter Text

Coble

Coble watches with her head resting in his lap as Vasco pauses in his reading and glances at the door for probably the tenth time since Elizabeth, Kurt and Siora left that morning. Reaching up, she lightly grazes his cheek with the tips of her fingers, and, when he glances down at her, she reassures him, “I’m sure Kurt can handle it.”

“Apologies,” he stammers, his free hand reaching down and gently brushing her hair away from her face. “What do you want to do today?”

She can think of a lot of things they can get up to but one sticks in her mind. She pushes herself up from his lap, stretching with her leg out to the side. “If you’re sure that you want me here, I suppose I need to get some of my things.”

“Of course, I want you here.” He looks at her from the pages of the book, his brows narrowed, head tilted quizzically. “If my concern about de Sardet is bothering you…”

“No, it’s not that,” she replies with a shake of her head, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. “I just want to be sure that you’re sure. Before I go turning your life upside down.”

“It’s far too late for that…” he mutters, setting his book aside and pulling her into his arms, pressing his open mouth to the length of her neck. “I don’t want you to feel obligated though. If you’re not ready for this, just be open with me.”

Relishing the feel of his lips brushing across her skin, she tilts her head back, exposing herself to his affections, speaking low, “I do believe it was me who first invited you into my bed, Captain.”

“Mmmm. To the port?” he asks softly, his words muffled against her skin.

Nodding, she moves with him as he pulls her up from the sofa and towards the door, quickly pulling on her boots and her tricorne, letting Vasco lead her out the door and through the courtyard headed toward the port by way of the market.

As they pass through the open market, Vasco pulls her up under the tents and gestures to pick something from the fruit stand. Grabbing a large bunch of grapes, she plucks one from the vine with her mouth, watching as he squirms next to her before paying and tugging her away in a hurry.

“You’re wicked!”

She plucks another grape, this time between her finger and thumb, turning and stuffing it in his mouth. “Shut up and keep up!” she calls out as she darts off down the street and under the arch at the city limit, only slowing down when she catches sight of Cabral at her post, eyeing the two of them carefully as they pass.

Vasco grabs her hand and tows her along towards the ship, up the gangplank, ducking into the hatch. Down the stairs, they enter the officers' deck, and he follows to her door on the starboard side, nearest to the recreation room at the back of the ship.

She tugs him inside, dropping the grapes to the top of her dresser, watching as he looks around, his hands held behind his back. “Make yourself comfortable Captain,” she says with a playful edge, yelping as he sweeps her up and carries her to the bed centered in front of the window.

“Oh, I don’t want to be comfortable,” he replies huskily, pressing her into the blue cover beneath him.

“Trust me, you don’t want to make love in my bed. It’s small and nowhere near as nice as the one back at the house.”

He bites at his lower lip, as if contemplating, before pulling her back up and kissing her softly, tenderly. “Then get to it so we can get home.”

While his face is even, not quite revealing whether he realizes what he said, Coble has difficulty keeping her own face neutral thinking about a life with him. Home. In an effort to keep from opening her mouth and telling him what she really wants, she begins to pull garments out of her dresser, tossing them onto the bed behind her, listening as he chuckles lightly from the other side of the room.

Beginning to hastily fold and stuff the clothes into her duffle, she chances a glance at him now and then, watching as he looks through her books, toying with the few knick-knacks on her shelf. “Find anything interesting?” she asks playfully, finishing up her packing.

“The state of your personal library is dreadful. Nothing but navigation and sailing…”

“We can’t all be hopeless romantics, Captain,” she says at his back with a smirk he almost misses before he turns and pulls her closer.

Between two toe-curling kisses, he whispers, “Sure we can,” holding her tightly against him.

“Come on,” she says, reaching back towards her dresser and scooping the grapes up and tugging at his coat, opening the door and leading him back up the stairs and to the deck.

“Give me just a minute,” he says, running back below, his steps pounding down to what should rightfully be his cabin.

Coble walks to the port side railing, leaning in and inhaling the salty breeze coming off the sea below, torn between her love of the sea and her…love for Vasco. When they put back out to sea, it will be so much harder to leave than the last time. At nearly thirty-three, at least seven years Vasco’s senior, she wonders what future they might have together.

Feeling her duffle lifted from her shoulder, she turns to see him throwing it over his own, a book tucked under his other arm, as he grasps her hand and leads her back down to the dock, quickly crossing to the arch, stepping back into the city and passing through the market. She hugs the bunch of grapes to her chest as they walk briskly back towards the house.

As they pass back through the square, she watches as he glances up at the statue in the center, her eyes darting to the windows of the palace and back to Vasco.

“You look like there’s something you want to say…but you’re hesitant to,” he says from beside her.

“I guess I’m just curious about what happened there. Not that it’s my business…” She feels his hand squeeze hers as they pass on by the likeness.

“Nothing,” he replies quietly with a shake of his head, as he opens and holds the manor gate for her. “Nothing happened. I knew going in it was just a fling. When we see each other, it’s like he’s looking at any other subject.”

“And if he changes his mind?” The words are out of her mouth before she even realizes it.

Vasco freezes in the middle of the courtyard, dropping her duffle to the cobblestone path, and darts down behind a hedge, tugging her along behind him. Pulling her into his arms, he grasps her chin with the fingers of one hand and tilts her head up to look into his eyes. “There was never anything between us. He was just a warm and available body. Same as me.” Leaning in and speaking low beside her ear, he murmurs, “You don’t know how many times I’ve wished it had been you instead. That I had asked you to dance that night on the ship.”

“What happens when you’re reinstated?”

“In case I haven’t made it clear, I want you to share my bed. Not just for today but for as long as you’ll have me. If that’s not what you want, I’ll understand, and I won’t hold it against you.”

“Vasco, that’s not what I want…” she says low and soft, gazing deeply into his eyes, her hands twisted into his lapel.

~Vasco~

Her words nearly break him, his breath hitching in his throat, unsure what he will do when they’re back on ship and she’s no longer sharing his bed. Can he keep going with her now knowing it will end?

“I want more,” she says, pulling him closer, kissing a trail up his neck and to his ear, whispering, “so much more.”

“Maeve, for a moment there…I thought that,” he mutters breathlessly, afraid to let go, pulling her tighter against his chest, stumbling back against the wall as she leans into him, filling his nose and mouth with sweet citrus, as she presses her body closer.

“I probably could have gone about that better, but I was a bit nervous…”

He would have Coble stay with him forever. The truth is, he has fallen hard and fast and he’s too embarrassed to tell her. After a matter of a few weeks, he is head over heels in love with this woman and the mere thought of telling her as much twists up his insides every time he tries.

“When you say you want more, I’m willing to give you anything, but what is it that you want?”

“Everything. That’s what I want. I want to share more than your bed,” she replies, flashing that beautiful smile of hers, the one that crinkles her freckled nose and enhances her laugh lines.

He wants to make her smile like that all the time.

“It’s all yours.”

Whatever it takes.

“Come on, we better get inside so I can get unpacked,” she says, grasping his hand and pulling him along, watching as he stoops and grabs her duffle as they pass, rushing up to the door and inside.

Upstairs, Vasco clears out a drawer and some space in the wardrobe where Coble can put away her things, watching from the bed, lazily eating grapes, and growing more impatient with every piece of clothing she pulls out of her duffle. When she finally closes the drawer and tosses the empty bag aside, he gestures with one finger for her to come closer.

When she shakes her head and stays put, Vasco tosses the grapes aside and jumps to his feet, closing the distance between them and pressing her against the wardrobe. “Playing hard to get?”

“No. I just thought that a bath might be nice…”

“Your wish is my command,” he replies in a honeyed voice, slipping through the door and down the stairs, running into Abigail in the dining room.

“Mister Vasco, I’m sorry…”

“It was entirely my fault. Can you get some water started heating for a bath? I’ll carry it up myself.

“Of course.”

While she busies herself with getting the water on the stove, Vasco rummages through the pantry and picks out some more fruit and some cheese, piling it in a bowl and returning to his room to find Coble relaxing in the bed.

“For while you wait…”

Back downstairs, he begins hauling buckets of hot water up to the bath between his room and Petrus’ until the tub is filled, the space warm and steamy from the fire in the common room.

Peeking into his room, he sees Coble is lightly dozing, and, feeling a little guilty, he shakes her gently awake. ‘Your bath is ready.”

“Come with me?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, he nods and follows her from his room to the bath, locking the door behind them. He tries to maintain some sense of composure, but, watching her undress and slip into the water, sinking under and wetting her hair, the effort is futile. She sees right through him.

Using the same gesture, a finger suggesting he come closer, she smiles seductively and knowingly at the same time. When he settles on the stool next to her, she begins working the buttons open on his shirt, peeling it back from his shoulders.

“Join me,” she says, brushing her damp curls out of her face.

It’s not a question. Not a request. But also, not a command.

Vasco stands and grabs a towel and her soap, leaving it on the stool, before beginning to hurriedly strip his clothes off, climbing in behind her, feeling her skin slip pleasantly against his as he sinks into the water. He wraps his arms around her, sighing happily as she leans her head back against his shoulder, her fiery, untamed curls drifting in the water lapping over his chest.

Out of all the lovers he has had, he has never bathed with any of them before. This is new ground.

Grabbing the soap, Vasco works a thick lather into his hands, releasing the citrus scent and bubbles into the air around them. Coble blows one from his hand, watching as it rises to the ceiling and pops. Slipping his fingers into her hair, he massages her scalp, enjoying the way she relaxes into it, with her arms poised lightly on each side of the tub. A soft moan escapes her lips as he continues working the lather in.

She ducks under the water, rinsing her hair, then breaking the surface and pushing her hair back out of her face. “Your turn,” she says with a longing, squeezing water from her curls. Again, neither a question nor a request. A simple statement.

Standing, she moves behind him, water running over her skin in rivulets, and he sinks under the water watching as she sits on the rim of the tub where he has a perfect view of her if he tilts his head back. He rises from the water sputtering and shoving his hair back over his head.

Vasco only realizes he is going to come out of this smelling like her when she begins to work the soap into his hair. He might have cared once upon a time, but he hardly gives it a second thought now. All he can think about is the way she is perched on the tub behind him, a heat building in his middle, tightening as he dips back under the water and gets a glorious view.

When he comes back up, he turns and rises partly out of the water, pulling her lips within reach before moving to her neck, gently cupping each breast and following the valley between them down. At her stomach, he presses his mouth into her flesh, nipping gently, continuing down over her hip and to her thigh, listening to her gasp and moan at each gain.

Soon she is grasping the rim of the tub, her fingers curling under the edge, unable to stifle the sounds escaping her mouth as he takes her apart piece by piece.

By the time she is finished with him, still straddling his hips and leaning forward against his chest, the water is starting to cool against his skin. With his toes, he fishes around for the chain and pulls the plug, kissing her lips and the dusting of freckles across her nose.

Vasco stands, pulling her up next to him and wrapping a fluffy towel around her shoulders, watching as she squeezes her hair in the towel, soaking up enough water that her curls bounce back to their usual wild buoyancy, cascading over her shoulders.

He steps out and towels off, peeking out the door and motioning Coble to the room while the coast is clear, picking up their soiled clothes and bringing them with him, dropping them down the chute as he passes, pushing her to the bed, both of them still wrapped in only their towels.

“So, now that we’ve collected your things, bathed and…enjoyed each other, what do you want to do with the rest of the day?”

“Nothing,” she says softly as she peels her towel away and tosses it to the floor.

“Nothing?”

She tugs on his towel until he obliges and tosses it on top of hers, pulling the blanket down and climbing under together.

“Absolutely nothing. I want to lay here with you. Listen to you read. Sleep in your arms. That’s a perfect day to me.”

“I had thought about a picnic, out on the docks, north of the harbor.”

“I would love to have a picnic with you, but could we do it another day?” she asks, climbing up over him, resting her head on his chest.

“Of course. I would be out of my mind to turn down an opportunity to spend a day in bed with you, Maeve,” he replies, reaching over to the table next to the bed where he left the book he grabbed from the ship earlier, beginning to read poems aloud as Coble cuddles closer, her smooth skin brushing against his.

In the following days, something or other always crops up to keep Vasco from making arrangements for their picnic.

First Aphra and Petrus have a disagreement about religion versus science that requires both he and Coble get involved and separate the two of them, leaving him beholden to stay in and keep an eye on the two of them until they’ve both calmed down. Eventually, they find a tentative peace but the sky is already growing dark by then.

The next day, he finds himself called to the blacksmith to test out the work on his armor for mobility and heft, taking up a good deal of the afternoon to work with Arot until both men are satisfied with the look and the feel of it. It is beautiful, an armored Naut coat, the metal etched with a scrolling wave pattern that Elizabeth must have requested without his knowledge.

Finally, his patience pays off and they find themselves at the docks on a beautiful day, the sun shining and the breeze soft and fragrant, a blanket spread out beneath them as they lie back and watch the clouds rolling overhead.

They’re hidden from the city street, but, occasionally, they hear the catcalls from the crew of a fishing boat out in the bay. Lifting his head, Vasco watches as they cast out their net, hauling it in and collecting their catch.

“Do you miss it? Being on the sea?” Coble asks carefully, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Some days I miss it terribly, but other days, like today,” he murmurs, leaning in closer to her lips, “not as much.”

“How long do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know. Cabral asked that I stick by de Sardet’s side, so, I suppose, it could be a long while still.”

She takes a deep breath, exhaling and quickly asking, “Do you think I could tag along sometime? On one of your missions?”

“After what happened to Kurt? He almost died, Maeve. If something happened to you…”

“Maybe I could come along to one of the villages.”

They were in a village when Kurt was shot, he wants to say. But he knows it would be disingenuous. No villager was responsible for that. Still…

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want you to come with me. I just don’t want to put you in danger.”

“I understand,” she replies, disappointment coloring her words and her voice.

Sighing, Vasco relents, muttering softly, “I’ll talk to de Sardet. See what she thinks.”

“Thank you.”

For the rest of the afternoon, they shift between lazily watching the boats in the harbor, snacking on the food from the basket Vasco had brought along, and dozing with their hats covering their faces. When the sky is just beginning to darken, he wakes and turns, gently shaking Coble awake, followed by a storm of kisses over each of her freckles, but he quickly loses count and peppers her face with kisses until she pushes him off in a fit of giggles.

“We should head back. But I want you to know how much I enjoyed being here with you today.”

“There’s nothing I would rather do than spend time with you, Vasco.”

As they both stand, Vasco collects the basket and drapes the blanket over his left arm, offering Coble his right, leading her back around the coin tavern, and through the square to the house.

Inside, he seats himself on the sofa, setting the basket on the table before them, and pulling the blanket up over them after Coble sinks in next to him. Picking up the book he had been reading, he thumbs to where he left off and reads until they both fall asleep.

A sudden noise at the door jolts him awake and he glances around, seeing the dim morning light filtering in through the windows. Vasco watches as Kurt stands in the open the door, holding it as Elizabeth steps inside, then takes her hand as they head for the stairs. Something sits oddly with him, and it takes a moment to realize what it is.

“Where is Siora?” he asks loudly, suddenly wide awake, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Coble lifts her head from his chest, looking at him quizzically.

Elizabeth stops in the middle of the room “Oh, no, she’s fine. She went to spend some time with her sister. She needed a break. Time to mourn.”

“For a moment there…”

“I didn’t think, Vasco. I’m sorry,” she apologizes in a soft and weary voice, practically dragging her feet as she begins to climb the stairs.

“No need to apologize. You look exhausted. Seems like you could use a break as well.”

“Bath. Food. Bed. In that order,” she replies as she continues up the stairs with Kurt close on her heels. Very close.

Coble rises from her position next to him and disappears into the dining room. He hears voices coming from the kitchen for a moment before she returns to his side.

“I asked Abigail to run them a bath.”

“A bath?”

“Not to share…” she says, gently slapping his chest and settling back against him.

“I’ll go fill the tubs,” he replies, carefully sliding out and lifting the basket which he carries back to the kitchen, emptying the contents and leaning in on the counter waiting.

When the first buckets of water are filled, Vasco quickly carries them up the stairs and to de Sardet’s bath, hearing murmuring from her room, but unable to make out the words.

On his second trip up, he hears the soft tinkling of their laughter, a lightness to Kurt’s voice that has often been missing since their days at sea.

Once he has the tub filled, he gently raps on the door with his knuckles and announces the bath is ready before heading back down to fill the other tub.

On his first trip up to begin filling the other bath, Kurt stops him and attempts to take the buckets. “Kurt, you’re both exhausted. I’ve just woken up. You already made me stay behind, let me do this,” he says, pushing around the man and pouring the steaming water into the tub.

After two more trips, with the tub full, he darts back down the stairs, savoring the aroma now filling the entire first floor of the house.

“Breakfast will be ready soon, Mister Vasco.”

He nods and leaves the kitchen, plopping down next to Coble who breaks into laughter, muffling it against his neck.

“I have asked them to simply call me Vasco, but it seems pointless. Everyone is Miss and Mister, Madam and Sir.”

“Kurt must love that!”

“Kurt seems to have a real soft spot for Abigail. I don’t know if it’s because he scared her half to death when we met her, or something else.”

“What happened?”

In the middle of Vasco retelling the story of the day they met Abigail and Juliet, Kurt comes strolling down the stairs, lighter than he’s been in a long time. After picking up a log and adding it to the hearth, he picks up an iron and stokes the fire before sinking into the nearest chair.

“You look tired, Soldier.”

“Mmmm, it was a long walk back from Eden.”

“Where?”

“Oh, right…” Kurt begins as he fills Vasco in on what happened while they were gone.

Beginning with the ceremony in Vedleug, then the sanctuary in the swamp and how Derdre led them into a trap, each part is worse than the one before. By the time he brings up the camp, Vasco finds himself gripping the arm of the sofa tightly, his knuckles white.

“I knew I should have gone with you.”

“I had it under control, Sailor,” Kurt says with a certain levity, not the least put out.

“Kurt, the last time we were in a native village, it was lucky that we were all there to carry you. What would you have done if…”

“Whatever I had to do. Besides, it wasn’t the villagers that caused that.”

“So, Eden?”

“Some ideal village where the priests live side by side with the natives,” he begins, explaining the situation. “Trust me, it was probably best that it was just the two of us.”

“Just the two of you?”

“It was just a small investigation into some tablets. Hardly dangerous.”

Elizabeth’s steps on the stairs behind him distracting Vasco from the conversation with Kurt.

“I’m still exhausted, but I feel so much better already,” she says as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

As she reaches the middle of the room, Kurt grasps her hand and pulls her into the chair next to him, wrapping his arms around her as she kicks her legs over his and lays her head on his shoulder.

Something is different.

Kurt is completely changed. Elizabeth too. Something happened while they were gone. Whatever it was, the change is good, and Vasco finds he is disinclined to dig and ruin the good mood that settles over the room. Instead, he quietly watches the two of them envelope each other in gentle affection, unbound by the rules of the outside world for a while.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt sees Vasco watching him curiously out of the corner of his eye as he and Elizabeth sit together in an exhausted heap on the chair before the fire. The sailor notices far more than he ever bothers to remark on, and his mind is turning now for some reason Kurt is sure he will hear about later.

The warm and soft body held in his arms presses closer against him, face tucked into his neck, effectively driving thoughts of anything else out of his head. His arms tighten around the curved form of the woman he loves. The woman who inexplicably loves him back.

When Juliet calls from the kitchen for breakfast, Kurt is tempted to lift Elizabeth in his arms and carry her, exhausted as she is, but she would loathe that kind of treatment right now, outside of some kind of romantic gesture. Instead, he gently shakes her out of sleep and stands with her, walking hand in hand to the dining room, sitting on the same side of the table.

While the food is being served, he reaches over and takes her hand in his for a moment, beginning to eat awkwardly with his off hand until she carefully pulls her hand free to drink from her mug. Switching hands, he continues to shovel food in his mouth, barely tasting it as he simply tries to make the most of his time so he can get to bed that much sooner.

After some time, Elizabeth finishes her juice and lowers her fork to her plate. “I know I said I wanted to sleep after this,” Elizabeth says, pushing her plate away, “but I should go check on Constantin first. He hasn’t been well. After that, I don’t want to think about diplomatic affairs or governors, or native villages.”

Kurt reaches over next to him and grips her hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze this time. “It can wait. At least until you’ve rested. You can go and see him later.”

“I suppose you’re right. If I went to see him looking like this…barely able to stand on my own feet…”

“He would be concerned.”

“Okay, I’m convinced. Excuse me, Vasco, Coble…Kurt,” she says softly as she stands and leaves the room.

Kurt barely has a chance to stand, excuse himself and follow behind her before she reaches the stairs, reaching back and offering her hand, pulling him along up the stairs and down the hall, passing through her door which she closes firmly behind them.

In the sanctity of her chamber, Kurt follows helplessly as she drifts towards her bed, slipping her boots off with one hand along the way, still holding his hand, fingers laced together, falling heavily into the mattress. The sudden motion propels him forward until he is leaning over her body, half standing at the edge of the bed. Whether she meant to or not, the temptation is there, provoking him.

“Kurt,” she mutters in a half awake and half sleeping voice, “stay with me until I fall asleep?” She weakly pats the bed next to her.

“Greenblood?”

“Please?”

Nodding, he extricates his hand from hers and passes around to the opposite side of the bed, sitting lightly at the edge of the bed with both feet on the floor.

“Closer…”

With a heavy sigh, he moves further into the bed, leaning back against the pillows with his arms crossed over his chest watching as she inches closer until her head rests on his abdomen, her arm draped over his waist. Intimately close.

Kurt reaches down and gently brushes her hair back over her shoulders, away from her face, revealing the intricate green tendrils on her cheek. Every time he looks at it, he is overcome with both longing to kiss and touch it and fury at the way others have made her feel over it.

Throwing his head back, Kurt stares up at the canopy for some time, counting the red quilted squares in the design, blinking his heavy lids in defiance, unaware when his eyes finally close and sleep takes him.

When he next opens his eyes, he finds himself reclined more to a horizontal position, his legs stretched out and his boots kicked off to the floor. Elizabeth lays in the crook of his arm with her hand on his chest, rising and falling with his slow and steady breaths, her knee pulled all the way up over his hip with her foot hooked around his leg.

Glancing out the windows at the light hitting the roof of the building on the opposite side of the courtyard, Kurt makes a quick guess that it must be late afternoon by now, judging by the angle of the shadows. Time is fleeting.

He should probably wake her, but he decides not to. For now. Instead, he runs his fingers through her hair, watching as it falls away from her face, again exposing her birthmark. So lovely against her supple skin, he knows exactly how it feels against his fingers, against his lips. The ghostly echo of the velvet softness tempting him, he is reaching his thumb up to skim over the texture before he can stop himself.

Stirring, she softly mumbles, “Mmmm, Kurt,” leaning into his hand and moving a little closer, her leg brushes over his middle forcing a quick intake of breath from him. Finally looking up at his face, her eyes widen, and she begins to push herself up. “I’m sorry. You were so tired, I should have let you go to bed…”

“Believe it or not, Greenblood, I don’t mind,” he says, grasping her hand and pulling her back in.

“I shouldn’t take advantage of your willingness to cross lines you’re not ready to cross.”

“What lines?” he asks huskily, pulling her up closer, finally brushing his lips against the velvety tendrils on her cheek, following them down to her neck. “These lines?” he questions into her skin.

“Mmmm, exactly those lines…” she murmurs softly near his ear, one hand kneading the musculature of his chest while the other slips under his back.

A sudden knocking pulls both of them out of their mutual hunger and yearning.

Leaning up, Elizabeth listens for a moment. “That’s not my door.”

“Damn, it’s mine…,” Kurt exclaims, quickly jumping up, and dashing across the room, hastily running his fingers through his hair as he passes through the lavatory and into his own room, pushing one door closed with a light hand before opening the other.

Vasco stands there, a smug look on his face. ‘You missed lunch. Juliet has just started preparing dinner.”

“Yeah, we’ll be down soon,” he says as he begins to close the door, only realizing what he said too late.

Sticking one foot in the open doorway, Vasco stares at him with one brow cocked, asking, “We?”

“I’ll, uh, let de Sardet know.”

“Kurt, you never call her de Sardet.”

“Rather than dance around this, just ask whatever it is you want to ask, Sailor.”

Shaking his head, Vasco withdraws his foot. “I have no idea what you mean, Soldier. See you downstairs,” he replies with a cocky grin as he backs away, arms tucked behind his back as he disappears down the hall.

Closing the door firmly, Kurt looks down and realizes he left his boots next to Elizabeth’s bed. Passing back through the bath, he knocks at her door, entering at her invitation, finding her at her dressing table, putting her hair back up. He continues on to the bed, sitting on the edge and quickly pulling his boots on before coming to stand behind her, admiring the way she moves, deftly, confidently, like a dance she knows by heart. Her eyes shift to his in the mirror, holding his gaze.

“Vasco. We’ve been summoned to dinner.”

Her shoulders drop and she finally breaks eye contact. “I have to go see Constantin first.”

“Of course, I’ll go with you.”

“It’s my cousin’s court. I’ll be safe.”

Leaning in, he kisses her lightly on the top of her head, picking up the scent of flowers from her hair. “I’m not offering to go simply to keep you safe, Greenblood,” he says softly, cocking his head at her.

“I know, Kurt, but…”

“No arguments,” he insists, pulling her up to her feet, grabbing the blue coat she laid out on the bed and holding it as she slips it on.

She reaches out and holds his face in her hand, thumb brushing from his lips to the line of his jaw. “Thank you, Kurt.”

Nodding, he takes her hand in his and leads her to the door, holding it open as she steps through and following her down the stairs where Vasco and Coble are seated on the sofa, opposite Petrus and Aphra on the two chairs.

“Kurt and I are going to check on Constantin. We’ll be back soon.”

Once they step through the door into the courtyard, Kurt releases her hand, his arm dropping idly to his side as they walk to the palace, falling in behind her as they climb the steps to the double doors. When they recognize the two of them, the guards open the doors, granting them entrance.

Even from this distance, both of them can see how much worse Constantin looks with his dark eyes and his pallid skin, though he perks up immediately when he sees Elizabeth enter.

“Fair cousin! How I have missed you!” he exclaims, pulling Elizabeth into his arms.

He gives Kurt a stern look, one that tells him Constantin knows how serious this might be but that he should keep that to himself and not let on to Elizabeth under any circumstances. Kurt nods at her back, a silent and solemn oath.

“Constantin…” she says, pulling away to look at him.

“Now, now, I assure you that I’m feeling much better now you’re here!”

“You must see a doctor, Con, please?”

His eyes light up at the use of her old nickname for him. “I will tell you what fair cousin, if I have not improved soon, I will send for the crows. I promise.”

He sounds sincere enough and Elizabeth replies, “Thank you.”

“Now, do you bring me any good news?”

“Very little, I'm afraid. None of the leads from our allies produced anything useful. Although, a certain name came up in our investigations on both fronts. En on mil frichtimen. The god of a thousand faces. Some kind of entity which protects the island.”

“A god, cousin? How do we know this is not just some kind of native legend?”

“I heard the voice of one of the faces. It was real. I don’t fully understand it, but I think this en on mil frichtimen could hold the cure for the malichor.”

“Where is our native princess?” he asks, looking around for Siora. “Couldn’t she give us answers?”

“I sent her back to Vedrhais, to rest and to mourn.”

“Very well. In the meantime, you should take some time to rest as well.” He claps his hands together in a self-satisfied manner. “Actually, your timing is perfect. The annual festival celebrating the founding of the city is tomorrow. I order you to go and enjoy yourself.”

“Constantin…” she begins to protest.

“You too Kurt. And make sure my fair cousin gets some rest.”

Kurt nods in agreement, happy to oblige Constantin this once. Elizabeth could use not just some down time, but exactly the type of diversion that a festival offers. With Constantin already looking winded and tired, Kurt carefully grips Elizabeth’s elbow and begins pulling her back towards the doors. Reluctantly, she finally turns and follows him out into the hall.

“Kurt…” she mutters, her breathing quick and ragged, “he looks worse.”

“I know. But you know Constantin. If you try to force the issue…”

Constantin is as stubborn as they come. But he also keeps his promises. At least where his cousin is concerned. If he says he will see a doctor, he will follow through as long as no one tries to force his hand.

“Yes, I know. He will only dig in his heels.”

“Come back to the house now.”

She nods and allows Kurt to tug her by the elbow until they reach the doors, releasing her as they step outside, falling back in behind her as they descend the stairs and enter the courtyard, pausing at the door to the manor.

She turns and wraps her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck where a few tears trickle down his skin. “Thank you, for coming with me.”

“Anytime, Greenblood,” he says softly, wiping her tears away with his thumb as she pulls away and steps inside, the aroma of dinner hitting both of them immediately and drawing them to the dining room where everyone else is already waiting.

Vasco looks about to ask a question and Kurt shakes his head, silencing him. He pulls out a chair for Elizabeth on the opposite side of the table and then sits next to her with Aphra on his other side.

For a while they eat in silence, Elizabeth’s somber mood affecting all of them. Finally, Kurt remembers the festival and Contantin’s orders to be sure his cousin enjoys herself.

“We did get one interesting piece of information that demands our attention tomorrow.”

On the opposite side of the table, Vasco cocks one brow. “Well, don’t keep us waiting.”

“The annual festival for the founding of New Serene is tomorrow. Constantin has ordered that Greenblood attend and enjoy herself. It falls on the rest of us to make sure she does.”

He notices the smile shifting the curve of her face followed by the slightest shake of her head, but she grasps his hand for a moment before releasing it and going back to her meal.

Watching as Elizabeth tracks slowly up the stairs, Kurt waits for her to disappear at the top. Once she’s out of sight, he approaches Vasco and pulls him aside. “I’ve had a thought, about finding a certain coin guard.”

Kurt quickly details his plan to sneak into Manfred’s office to get a look at the register. It contains the names of any and all guards who have been through the New Serene Barracks so there is a good chance that Hermann will be in it.

His plan involves him making some vague excuse about checking on something. While he appears to leave the room, Vasco will draw Manfred to the foyer with some questions so Kurt can sneak back in and enter the office, take a look at the register and get back out without Manfred being the wiser.

“You’re sure this will work and not end up with both of us in the coin jail?” Vasco asks, his voice as unsteady as Kurt has ever heard it.

“Worst case scenario, I have to explain the situation to Manfred. He won’t arrest us.”

“Okay, Kurt,” he replies with a sigh, “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.”

They dart out the door before anyone can stop them or ask where they’re going, quietly slipping out through the shadows of the courtyard and into the darkened square.

“So, Soldier, what exactly happened while you were gone?”

‘I’ve already told you,” Kurt replies, perplexed, as he takes the high street, avoiding the crowds leaving and entering the tavern.

“I’m talking about whatever happened between you and de Sardet, Kurt.”

So that’s what this is about.

Kurt pulls Vasco into the dark side street and looks around before he opens his mouth. “She told me that she loves me.”

“I sincerely hope you didn’t leave it like that.”

“I told her that I loved her.”

“And?” he asks, that brow cocked, half a smirk on his face.

“And nothing, Sailor.”

“At least you both finally admitted what I’ve been telling you all along.”

“Yes, you’re very clever. Now come on,” he says as he tugs Vasco out of the shadows and into the lamplight, coming up directly to the barracks doors. “Keep Manfred distracted and away from his office door. It’s late enough that there shouldn’t be anyone milling around downstairs.”

“I’ve got it Kurt,” Vasco says as he follows him through the door.

Kurt looks around first and, seeing no one else, he crosses over to Manfred and leans in conspiratorially. “I need to check on something.”

“Sure, Kurt.”

Kurt heads out of the room toward the stairs, climbing up just far enough to be out of sight but still low enough to see when Manfred follows Vasco out into the foyer. Taking advantage of what time he has, he quickly creeps back down the stairs, and to the office, slipping through the door.

At the desk, he opens the register, flipping through the pages backwards, starting with the earlier entries. Several names stick out to him, fellow recruits under Hermann. All followed by the word deceased. Some list the cause of death as natural causes-obviously a euphemism for drinking themselves to an early grave-but most are attributed to self-inflicted wounds.

Crestfallen, Kurt continues to flip through the pages, searching for Hermann. Just when he is about to give up any hope of finding him, he flips back to the very back, starting over in case he missed it somehow. When he sees his name, his shoulders drop and he closes the register, overcome with a strong desire to fling it across the room.

After taking a few deep breaths, he rounds the desk and cautiously opens the door a crack, checking that the coast is clear before silently leaving the office and nonchalantly approaching Vasco and Manfred in the foyer, leaning against the door frame.

“Oh, Kurt, did you get what you needed?”

“I, uh, yeah. Thanks, Manfred.”

As he turns and walks out the doors into the street, Vasco is immediately on him. “What is it Kurt?”

“Someone must be protecting Hermann. The register says he’s in Serene but if that were true, I would have taken care of him long ago.”

Vasco reaches out and grabs his shoulder, stopping him as he steps out onto the high street. “Kurt, we’ll find him.”

“There’s more. Others who were in the training camp with me? Dead. Self-inflicted for most of them. But a few listed as natural causes.”

“Seems strange for such young men who all came from the same training camp to die of natural causes. Do you think it’s true? Or is it all a cover-up?”

“What Hermann did, I have no doubt they could have drunk themselves to death. Or fallen on their own swords. Or eaten lead…” he mutters, glancing around as they enter the main square.

“Damn, Kurt. At least if he’s being protected, he’s safely hidden away somewhere. He can’t hurt anyone if he has to hide out.”

Speaking in a hushed voice, Kurt turns to Vasco as they pass through the manor gate, closing and latching it behind them. “You’re right. And we will find him. Eventually. He will pay for what he’s done.”

“You need to calm yourself before we go inside. If de Sardet sees you like this…”

Nodding, Kurt takes several calming breaths, thinking he should have taken his frustrations out on one of the practice dummies in the training yard. “I know, I just hoped that, for once, things might go my way,” he replies, kicking a few rocks at his feet.

“They will. But, for now, you have someone waiting for you. Someone…who loves you.”

Kurt nods and takes one more deep breath, releasing his frustration in a long exhale, before stepping through the door.

When they enter, they find Coble and Elizabeth on the sofa, having a quiet chat. Coble stands and takes Vasco’s hand leading him up the stairs, both of them saying goodnight as they round the turn, their voices fading as they pass down the hall.

Elizabeth pats the cushion beside her and Kurt sits next to her obediently. She pulls at his shoulders, pushing him down to lie with his head resting on her leg. Even though the idea makes a heat rise up his neck and to coil in his middle, he does as she wants, unable to refuse her.

Then her fingers are running through his hair, nails gently grazing his scalp in a way that makes him feel completely relaxed, a warmth washing over him as he toes his boots off and kicks his feet up. Before he knows it, a soft hum escapes his throat, and he claps a hand over his mouth too late.

“Kurt,” she says, pulling his hand away from his face with her free hand, “you’re allowed to have comforts and to enjoy them.”

“I love you, Greenblood.”

“I love you more, Kurt,” she replies, threading her fingers through his and pulling them up to her lips.

Kurt smiles up at her, reaching his free hand up to tuck a stubborn strand of loose hair behind her ear, closing his eyes, only for a moment, feeling completely happy and almost whole.

Chapter Text

~Elizabeth~

Elizabeth, seated beside Constantin on his side of the square, opposite Lady Morange, watches as the large dark and light tiles are placed over the cobblestone surface below, followed by the players in their light and dark costumes, each one representing a piece on the board, as they take their places.

She glances over at her cousin, who still looks pale and uncommonly tired, but notices the sun seems to be doing him some good, warming him. The prospect of a fierce competition has his skin slightly flushed, his eyes bright. His leg bounces in anticipation.

Chess has never been her forte, being better suited to actual combat than an ersatz simulation. Her cousin, of course, excels at the game, having devoted much time and attention to the rules and the various plays, enjoying the intrigue of it all. She might have been more interested in playing with him if he ever lost a single match.

From her left, Constantin waves his hand, signaling to Lady Morange that she should make the first move, most likely an attempt at chivalry. Elizabeth watches, interested but completely baffled beyond the basic moves, the planning of each opponent, several steps ahead of their current play, predicting their next moves.

To that end, it is much like swordplay, without the actual danger.

Piece by piece, the players move around the board in a choreographed dance, each one with its own set of rules. And each time one piece attacks another, they play out a dramatic sword fight, thrilling the children who squeal in delight as the slayed piece leaves the board for good, corralled in a box on their opponent’s left-hand side.

Halfway through the match, Lady Morange quickly shifts from slightly cocky to bitter resolve. Constantin has already won but they continue to play out the game for the gathered crowd until the final play has been called and Constantin can declare a checkmate. Lady Morange stands and bows, conceding defeat, leading the applause for the young governor.

As the players move back to their places, Constantin leans in and catches Elizabeth’s eye. “Fair cousin, I’m afraid that I must call it a day. The game has simply fatigued me. Please offer my excuses to our honored guests.”

“Of course, Constantin. Please get some rest,” she replies softly, swallowing dryly as she watches him stand and wave dismissively.

Obviously unwilling to be seen needing help, he stands tall, summoning up his strength and climbing the steps, reminding her of her mother, fooling everyone except for Elizabeth and Kurt, who know him better than anyone. This is not the lively young princeling they know.

She turns to Kurt who has been standing behind her during the entire match. “Kurt…”

“I know. But there’s no point in pestering him now. Let him rest and go see him later.”

She nods reluctantly. Of course, Kurt is right. Constantin is stubborn, more stubborn than the two of them together. It’s best to let him come to a decision on his own.

“What would you like to do now, Greenblood?”

Coble and Vasco have already disappeared into the tents on the east side of the square. Petrus and Aphra seem to be preparing to start a match of their own and Elizabeth does not want to get roped into staying to watch. Quickly sneaking away, she spots Juliet and Abigail as they step into a brightly colored tent with red and white stripes.

“I’m actually rather famished since we all skipped breakfast this morning,” she replies, the sight of the cook a sudden reminder.

“Then let’s find some food…” Kurt says, stepping in behind her.

The way Kurt steps in line reminds her of their last day in Serene. Not that he’s distant or cold, but that there is a wall between them, one that neither of them put up this time. Erected instead by the mouths and eyes of society. By their idea of what is proper.

At home, they can lounge around on the sofa, they can fall asleep together, sit next to each other at the table and let their limbs touch without concern about how it looks or who might find out. They can share a bathroom without anyone lifting an eye in their direction. Home is the only place where they can just be.

But once they step through that gate, they are under the scrutiny of gossips who would love to be the first to start a rumor, watching it spread all the way back to the continent in time. And it is there that the danger lies. No matter how far away they are, the prince has ears everywhere.

The nearest food vendor shouts out to the crowd about their offerings, a vegetable and beef stew which smells hearty, her stomach growling in response. Kurt laughs softly behind her but takes a bowl from her hand as she passes it to him, leading her to a nearby table. He places his bowl on the tablecloth, quickly running off and coming back with a pint of ale for each of them.

Taking one mug from his outstretched hand, she tastes it, detecting some kind of fruit sweetly balancing the flavor. Digging into her stew, she can hardly help but hum happily, watching contentedly as Kurt drops his spoon in his bowl, unable to sit there unbothered with the sounds that come from her mouth.

“Greenblood, I swear…” he mutters under his breath, shifting in his seat.

“It’s certainly not intentional, Kurt,” she says blithely, only too happy to continue.

“Fine. While you…finish, I’m going to take care of something. I’ll be right back.”

She watches as he darts off between two tents, disappearing into the crowd. Once she can no longer see him, she goes back to her meal, shoveling bite after bite into her mouth, still humming the whole time. Just as she is contemplating getting another bowl, Kurt reappears with a small box held out in front of him.

“Excellency, your favorite.”

When he places the box before her, lifting the lid, she can already taste the lemon on the air, her mouth watering. Pushing her empty bowl aside, she takes her spoon and licks it clean before scooping up a bite, taking it into her mouth and letting it melt on her tongue. Trying to reign in her appreciation this time, she barely makes a sound but leans in and quickly presses a chaste kiss to Kurt’s temple, earning a flushed smile from him in return.

Eventually, she picks up the crust of the pie between her fingers, taking one last bite before offering the rest to Kurt, carefully shoving it into his open mouth, crumbs dusting his lips. If they were home now, she might use her own mouth, but instead, she sweeps them away with her thumb, watching as he glances around for any witnesses.

His eyes both bright and wary, Kurt speaks low, “You take too many risks, Greenblood.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. But, you’re difficult to resist.”

Shaking his head, Kurt scoffs loudly, picking up the bowls and spoons and returning them to the vendor, then tossing the empty box into a bin. “Where to now?”

“Perhaps we could just have a look around and see what they have to offer?”

Again, Kurt steps in behind her, the ever-faithful guard, as she begins to walk down the aisles, glancing inside tent after tent. Some offer exotic fabrics and garments, others jewelry or books. None of which she has a need or a want of. Occasionally, Kurt stops to look at armor or weapons and then they move on.

In an open stall, they watch for a while as several people make shapes from glass, blowing into long tubes, creating bulbous shapes before working in pleats and tucks, creating exotic animals and flowers. Elizabeth is mesmerized by the way they so adeptly, almost intuitively, heat the glass and work with it a while before heating it again, keeping it pliant and malleable but not too soft.

Moving on to the next open area, they come to a small archery range, discovering Vasco and Coble already there, watching the competition.

“Coble,” Elizabeth says coyly, “I wonder who would win between Vasco and Kurt.”

“I wager one gold piece, Vasco beats me,” Kurt says low enough only Elizabeth can hear him.

A losing bet if ever there was one. Kurt may be best with a two-handed sword, but he’s also an ace with a bow. This is some game the two of them have devised at this point, trying to lose the gold coin rather than win, and she is perfectly willing to play. Nodding demurely, she takes the wager.

Coble laughs and goads Vasco, “Do you think you can beat Kurt?”

Vasco looks over at him, one brow cocked. Even he seems to realize this is a losing venture, but, still, after being challenged, he steps up and takes a bow, waiting for Kurt to join him.

Pulling Coble back out of the way, Elizabeth stands aside while Kurt selects a bow, running his hand along the curve, lining up the bowsight, testing the bowstring until he finds one to his liking. A smaller bow that seems like it has seen little use.

The attendant brings up a bucket of arrows for each of them. While Vasco begins shooting them off one after another, Kurt dumps his bucket to the ground, sifting through the arrows as he places nearly half of them back into the bucket and pushes it aside with his foot. The rest, he lays out on the counter before him, picking up the first one and nocking it on the string, pulling back, taking a deep breath and releasing. Not quite hitting the center with his first shot, the next is closer, with each one tighter than the one before until he has a mass of arrows dead center.

Even without using half of the provided arrows, Kurt walks away the obvious winner, flipping a coin over his shoulder which Elizabeth easily catches, slipping it into the small pocket in her jacket where it will stay until she finds a chance to lose it back to him.

“I have to admit, Kurt, you’re surprisingly good with a bow, but I bet I could take you in a one-handed sword fight.”

“Maybe,” Kurt replies, with a look back at Elizabeth, waiting for her to step in next to him.

Just a bit further up the way, they approach a dusky blue tent with a soft glow from inside, Elizabeth reads the fading sign outside the flap aloud. “Lady Fortuna…Fortune teller…” She turns to Kurt and begins dragging him toward the open flap. “It sounds like fun.”

When she looks at Coble and Vasco, they both back away, shaking their heads.

“No, de Sardet. We Nauts do not tempt fate,” Vasco says anxiously, grabbing Coble’s hand and beginning to lead her away.

Coble shrugs her shoulders and calls out, “Have fun!” as Vasco continues to drag her away.

Looking back to Kurt, she crosses her arms. ‘Well? Are you afraid of a little fortune teller?”

“You can’t get me to do it by implying I’m a coward, Greenblood,” Kurt says with a smirk. “But I’ll do it for the asking.”

“Please, Kurt, will you go with me?” she asks, with her hand outstretched, smiling as he reaches back and lets her lead him into the tent.

Inside, the space is darkened, the scent of burning sage filling the air. A woman, younger than Elizabeth expects, steps to the open flap, pulling it closed and securing it behind them.

Showing Kurt and Elizabeth to a table covered with a purple cloth embroidered in gold stars and moons, she seats herself on the other side, picking up a small cloth bag, and removing a deck of cards that she begins to shuffle. In the lamplight, her hair appears blue-black as it swings loosely around her shoulders. Pushing it back out of her face reveals a pair of warm amber eyes which dart between the two of them.

Holding out the cards in their direction, speaking in a heavy accent, she says, “Take the cards and cut them three times.”

Elizabeth lifts the deck of cards from her hand, placing them on the table and cutting them three times just as she was told.

“Think about the question you have in mind,” she says, beginning to turn the cards one at a time until there are nine face up in the middle of the table.

The question. What will happen with Kurt? Will Constantin be okay?

For a while, the woman says nothing as she contemplates the cards.

One depicts a fair young man, walking towards a cliff. Another, several men fighting with sticks aflame. A heart with three swords driven through it. A family surrounded by a ring of cups. A woman, heavy with child, sitting in a field surrounded by crops. A man and a woman drinking from two cups. A woman with a lion, prying his mouth open with her bare hands. A dark-haired man sitting on a throne, covered in armor and holding a large sword. A woman with several swords hanging over her bed while she sleeps.

Finally, she looks up at Elizabeth and begins.

Speaking reverently, she says, “You are a woman of great consequence, wealth and power…but this is not what you desire. You desire a simple life, a fulfilling life full of love and warmth. Family. And you can have it if you are strong enough to make it happen.”

She looks directly at Kurt next and continues. “And you, you are a man of action, fair and just, well-suited to your occupation. You are a protector. You seem to have what you want already. You must only hold onto it,” she says, her eyes flickering suggestively back to Elizabeth.

She glances back down to the cards before gazing between the two of them. “Together, the two of you create a harmonious balance, helping each other through the difficult times ahead. But you will come through it together.”

Looking back to Elizabeth, she reaches out her hand and grasps hers tightly, speaking softly, “You will be tried, and you are going to want to quit. You will think you cannot possibly find a way. But you have the strength already inside you. The very things that try to break you will make you stronger if you believe in yourself.”

Her demeanor changes as she looks back down at the cards for a moment, tapping the card with the young blonde man in the center of the table. “I see someone who walks through life without a care, convinced that things will always work out in his favor. That someone will always be there to catch him.” Looking up with sincerity and compassion, she gives Elizabeth’s hand another squeeze.

“Corruption and greed will stand in the way, and lead to ruin and heartbreak. But you must not let it hang over your head. Make your choice and let your regrets go. Only then can you truly find happiness.”

Picking the cards up from the table, she shuffles them back into the deck a few times and slips the deck back into the bag without another word.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth says as she slips several coins into the locked box beside the table.

“You’re welcome. Just remember to have faith in yourselves and each other.”

She leads them back to the flap, leaving it open as they wander back out into the sunlight, their eyes adjusting from the stark change in contrast.

“Kurt…” she says, suddenly feeling uneasy, needing his reassurance.

“It’s just a silly fortune, Greenblood. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sighing, she nods and murmurs, “I know. You’re right. I’m tired though. I think I’ll return to the house.”

“I’ll walk you to the gate,” he replies, putting out his arm for her to take.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He gestures with his arm, refusing to give in.

“Did she forget to mention how stubborn you are?”

“Your Excellency, I am just and fair. Not a stubborn bone in my body,” he says in a mocking tone with just a hint of a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth.

“I believe that we need a second opinion.”

Ignoring the comment, he opens the gate and leads her through. “Here we are. Safely delivered as promised. I’ll be back soon,” he says, pulling the gate closed as he backs away.

She watches until Kurt drifts out of sight, the crowd filling in around him as he walks away. Turning, she passes by the fountain, watching the fish swim around the lily pads for a moment before continuing on to the house and stepping inside.

Petrus sits in a chair before the fireplace, having built a small fire to warm himself.

“My child, did you satisfy your cousin’s demand that you enjoy yourself?”

“Whether I did or not, I am done for the day. If anyone asks for me, I’ll be upstairs in my room.”

She climbs the stairs and enters her room, removing the stuffy waistcoat and tossing it over the back of a chair. Toeing her boots off, she leaves them there as well, dragging her feet to the bed and falling in. Though she grabs a book from her bedside table, her eyes are soon closing of their own accord.

When she opens them next, she finds herself staring into Kurt’s face where he sits at the edge of her bed.

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”

“Kurt, you’re welcome here anytime you want.”

Finally looking around, she realizes how dark it is, a single lamp dimly lighting the entire space.

“I came to tell you dinner is ready.”

“I should go and check on Constantin.”

“After you have something to eat. He would insist.”

She huffs softly, knowing it’s no use to argue. “I will eat first, if, and only if, you let me go to the palace on my own.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Greenblood. Fine, but I have a counteroffer. Allow me to escort you inside and I’ll wait for you there.”

Again, no point in arguing once Kurt has his mind made up.

“Very well. I accept.”

“Good,” he says, offering his arm and leading her to the door and down the stairs.

In the dining room, Coble is showing Aphra a necklace that Vasco must have bought for her, a beautiful shell in pastel shades of pink and orange, a pearlescent swirl at the base followed by several holes up one side, the topmost with a metal clasp strung on a chain.

“It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth chimes in, seating herself next to Kurt.

Over dinner, Petrus and Aphra both brag about their chess match, neither willing to admit defeat. Coble and Vasco are mostly absorbed in their own affair. And Elizabeth and Kurt keep the tarot reading to themselves, simply replying that it was just for fun when asked.

By the time she has finished, Elizabeth hardly wants to bother with retrieving her jacket, but Kurt insists, dashing up the stairs and then quickly back down, holding it while she slips her arms in, working the buttons as she is walking out the door.

They walk to the palace in a comfortable silence, Kurt waiting just inside the doors while she climbs the stairs to the court, entering and quietly knocking on Constantin’s chamber door.

“Come…” he says in a weary voice.

She steps inside and catches a glimpse of his frailty before he can put up his guard. “You don’t have to do that for my benefit, Con. I’m already thinking the worst as it is.”

“I’m fine, Liza. To what do I owe a personal visit?” he asks, patting the bed next to him.

She comes closer, standing before him for a moment before sitting beside him. “I know you’re putting on a brave face, and you have to appear strong to the outside world. But you don’t have to do this with me,” she says, turning her body to be more head on.

Changing the subject, Constantin quips, “I saw you and Kurt leaving the fortune teller’s tent. Did she have anything helpful to say?”

“She said that you think everything will always work out in your favor,” she teases him.

With a soft snort of laughter, he replies, “That’s what I have you around for, fair cousin.” He lifts one hand and places it on top of hers in her lap. “I know I don’t say it often enough, but I appreciate all that you do for me. Even when you smother me with worry.”

“It’s because I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

“You need your rest now. I’ll see you again soon.”

Constantin pulls her into an embrace, weakly wrapping her in his arms. “Take care of yourself. I would be lost without you,” he mutters softly next to her ear.

When he releases her, she stands, backing away, and steps through the door, crossing back to the hall, practically at a run, Kurt catching her as she reaches the bottom floor.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Please, get me out of here.”

He nods and gently grabs her by the arm, tugging her down the steps and through the gate, back toward the house. Inside, they pass through the sitting room and up the stairs without a word to anyone, barely even noticing who is present, Kurt following her into her room without hesitation.

As she strips the jacket off and tosses it to the floor, she kicks her boots off and throws herself into her bed. Her hands are in her hair, pulling out pins and dropping them on the red coverlet under her.

She feels the shift of the mattress as Kurt leans in on one hand, picking up the pins with the other. Looking up at his face, she begins to drop each pin in his hand, unwinding her braid as she goes, letting her hair fall down over her shoulders. She shakes it out when the last pin is removed, watching as Kurt rounds her bed and drops the pins into the dish on her dressing table.

When he returns to her side, he pulls at the coverlet, maneuvering it from under her and then pulling it back up to her chest. He kneels beside her, his hand brushing her hair from her forehead where he presses his lips. Closing her eyes, she reaches out and pulls his mouth lower, greedily kissing his lips.

“I’ll be right on the other side of that door,” he whispers, pointing toward the bathroom, before he stands and backs away, keeping her in his sight.

Elizabeth watches as he slips through the bath, watching her intently as he pulls on his door, until he disappears from view. Like so many nights before. With one stark difference. This time, he leaves the door open a crack, just a sliver of light coming from his room as he lights a lamp, his shadow moving around and sometimes darkening the slight opening.

Unlike the invitation of her always open door, Kurt offers her something else, his hand extended with trust and faith and love.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt glances around the common room-which is uncommonly quiet-looking from Vasco, who sits before the fire quietly brooding, to the closed doors.

He asks the obvious question, “Where’s Coble?”

At first Vasco says nothing, staring blankly into the fireplace until Kurt grips his shoulder. “Cabral sent for her first thing this morning. I barely had time to see her off.”

No wonder the sailor is sitting in front of the hearth with his heavy coat and hat on, probably nearing a heat stroke.

“They’ll be back in no time,” Kurt offers, words he knows are pointless, empty.

“I’m not some lovesick pup, Kurt,” Vasco mutters, finally looking him in the eye. “It’s just that the sea is a dangerous place and I can’t be there to be sure that…”

“It feels powerless knowing that you can’t keep someone safe. I know, Vasco,” Kurt replies, thinking about how close he and Elizabeth came to losing each other not so long ago.

“I know you do. We all do. When you were shot…de Sardet…I’ve never seen someone so…”

“That’s not going to happen again,” Kurt stammers, cutting Vasco off before he can follow that thought to its conclusion. “In fact, I was just coming to suggest that we head over to the smith.”

“What about de Sardet?”

“She’s waiting for us downstairs.”

“Let’s not keep a lady waiting then,” he says, sighing heavily as he climbs up from the sofa, following Kurt down to the sitting room.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Elizabeth, leaning in against the door, softly says, “Vasco, I’ve just heard, I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

“Can we just not keep talking about it, de Sardet?”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to help. Both of you. I have to learn to deal with this. It’s not the first time and it won’t likely be the last,” he says following the two of them out the door and through the courtyard.

As they pass through the square, Elizabeth turns, walking backwards in front of them. “I was thinking that now that things are somewhat quiet, we might go out and look for those ruins that Lady Morange spoke about.”

“I had almost forgotten about that,” Kurt replies, grabbing her shoulders and steering her around an equally distracted stranger.

“Oh, apologies,” she calls over her shoulder. “We could prepare to leave tomorrow.”

She turns to better watch where she’s going as they pass under the arch and towards the smith, her mood lighter than Kurt has seen her in days.

‘Lady de Sardet, your timing could not be more apropos!” Arot exclaims when he spies her approaching his shop.

The space is bathed in the red glow of the forge, a young apprentice using his entire weight to pump the bellows sufficiently, stoking it and releasing tremendous heat. The thunderous sound of metal on metal rolls out of the shop, echoing off the surrounding buildings.

Disappearing into a room off to one side, Arot reappears a moment later with Vasco’s coat, covered in a series of thin steel plates down each side of the front and the back, etched with rolling waves around some of the edges, causing a stunned smile to spread across the sailor’s face.

“I hope it pleases, your Excellency, that it is within the parameters of your specifications.”

Looking very pleased, Elizabeth exclaims, “Vasco, try it on.”

With a hint of embarrassment, Vasco unbuckles the coat he wears, shrugging it off and letting Kurt take it from his outstretched hand. He slips his newly armored coat on, visibly adjusting to the added weight, carefully buckling it all the way up. Testing the movement and the range of motion, he draws his sword, turning and charging at empty space.

“Will it do, then?” Arot asks hopefully, watching the scene with interest.

“Aye, it’s perfect.”

The smith beams, gratified with Vasco’s praise.

While Kurt helps Vasco switch back into his other coat, Elizabeth pulls Arot aside to talk about payment in private.

Back at the house, after a late breakfast, a sudden knock at the front door is quickly followed by footsteps climbing the stairs in a hurry and a knock on Elizabeth’s door. Kurt hears murmured voices through the closed doors, but their voices are too low for him to make out what they’re saying.

A short while later, Elizabeth is at his interior door, lightly knocking. Kurt opens the door to her leaning nonchalantly against the frame.

“Looks like we’ll have to put off plans to go to the ruins. The Thélème embassy sent a messenger here with a letter from Father Iustinius in Eden. One of their missionaries returned from the expedition gravely injured and they’ve asked that I return as soon as possible.”

“With Siora still gone, and Vasco…” Kurt begins, concerned about leaving the sailor behind to his own devices, kicking around the house with Aphra and Petrus.

“I know. I’m not leaving him here. I suppose we could all go. If there is danger, it certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

“You’re not wrong. Just…promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“You’ll be right next to me, Kurt.” Her face shifts, revealing her bolder, playful side. “Besides, you haven’t seen the new armor Constantin had sent over…”

Now she has his full attention. He peeks around the door trying to catch a glimpse.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait and see…” she says as she slips through the bathroom, pulling her door not quite fully closed but enough that from his position he sees nothing from her side.

“Constantin sent you a new set of armor?”

“Yes,” she calls back over the sound of fabric rustling and metal clashing. “Apparently, he was concerned after…what happened in Mev’s village.”

Kurt looks down at his abdomen, fingers feeling through his shirt for the telltale scar. “I’m not surprised. Despite his flaws, he certainly cares about you.”

“Kurt, could you go tell everyone to prepare to leave right away?”

“Of course,” he says as he steps through his door and into the common room across the hall, making a circle around the room knocking on each door in a single pass.

Vasco is the last to step out into the room, glancing around curiously.

“Change of plans. Instead of looking for the ruins, we have to go back to Eden. The missionaries have met with some trouble. So, get packed and meet downstairs.”

Kurt returns to his room to start packing his own bag but stops in his tracks when Elizabeth steps out through his bathroom door. He watches spellbound as she turns a slow circle before him silently thanking Constantin.

The coat is a soft shade of brown, almost gray in fact, that complements her skin tone and the birthmark on her face equally as well. Gleaming steel armor, etched with an elegant scrolling floral pattern, covers her chest and back. Soft gold embroidery flows all the way around the front and back bottom edges of the coat, climbing up the body and back down the arms, disappearing into a fine pair of brown leather gloves embellished with an insignia in purple with more gold embroidery. On her feet, she wears a pair of fine brown leather boots over dark trousers with sky blue ties that match the blue sash tied around her waist and over the intricately woven leather shoulder piece, the tall collar just brushing the nape of her neck.

Left speechless, he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Kurt.”

“Your cousin…has impeccable taste,” Kurt replies when he finds a few words.

“That he does.”

~Elizabeth~

After leaving word with Abigail in case of Siora’s return and procuring staples of cheese and bread, dried meat and fruit from the kitchen and pantry, the five of them set out for the northern gate, Elizabeth hiring a caravan to take them as far as the river on the east road. She moves around to the back and Kurt’s hand is immediately reaching out for her, pulling her up next to him before calling to the driver to proceed.

With so many passengers, there is no room for everyone to stretch their legs at once, so they sit in a sort of circle with their legs crossed or their knees pulled up to their chests, occasionally switching positions and even places.

When Elizabeth finally gets to stretch her legs for a while, she leans into Kurt’s side, smiling as he curls his arm around her back, lightly dozing. By the time she wakes up, she can see the familiar scenery through the back of the wagon opening. They are close to the river.

Shortly after, they grind to a stop, jostling them around. While the others get their things together, Elizabeth climbs out and approaches the driver, paying him enough to entice him to wait there for their return, promising compensation if it takes longer than expected.

Rejoining her companions, Elizabeth and Kurt lead them north along the river’s edge where they stop to rest in a small clearing, eating a little and refilling their water skins before they continue on.

By late afternoon, they reach the edge of the swamp, climbing to the top of the hill and descending the other side, following a path which bypasses the village center, leading past the farmlands directly to the area where Sister Eugenia had previously conducted her research.

Elizabeth grabs Aphra and motions the others to wait outside while they enter the first building, discovering a barracks turned makeshift infirmary, with several bunks lining one wall. It is a painful reminder of her last day in Serene, the tents and beds lining the streets, full of the sick because the hospital had run out of room.

In the back of the room, she sees a priest lying prone on a table surrounded by dried blood stains. A blanket pulled up over him, he still shivers in the warmth of the space around him.

An older priest, graying and wearing small, round spectacles holds up his hand and bars her from getting closer.

“I am legate de Sardet. I was sent for by Father Iustinius.”

“Oh, your Excellency! Thank you for coming! Our prayers have been answered! I am Brother Casparus," he replies in a soft-spoken voice.

“What happened?”

“Sister Eugenia led the expedition north to continue their research, but then Brother Fidelis returned alone, injured and sick. I’m surprised he made it this far considering the state he was in. We managed to take care of some of his wounds, and we’ve tried our magic, but he still won’t wake up.”

Stepping forward, Elizabeth looks closer at the man. He is still shivering, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat, obvious claw marks, red, swollen and angry, over his exposed skin.

“This man has been attacked by a creature, possibly venomous,” Aphra says from her left.

“We’ve tried antidotes. The only thing we can figure is it must be a native hex.”

“Why do you always blame them?” Elizabeth asks, her voice rising, as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Never mind. I will go and speak to Ler.”

She turns and storms out of the building, the others quickly stepping in line. “You should wait here. I need to speak with the chief. I’ll be back.”

As she walks away, she hears Kurt’s steps fall in behind her, a smile turning up the corner of her mouth as they continue on to Ler’s hut, just the two of them.

“On ol menawi, I want to thank you for what you did for our village. You made it possible for our brothers to move on to a new clan, and you proved that peace is possible.”

“It was my pleasure,” she replies softly, urgently moving on to the matter at hand. “Now, I hope that you can do something to help me. One of the researchers returned to the village wounded.”

“I’ve heard.”

“We believe he may have been poisoned by a creature, but their antidotes don’t seem to work. We need to speak to a healer.”

He looks at her with his head tilted thoughtfully, “The priests never thought to ask for our help. Unfortunately, our doneigad was one of those exiled.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders drop. Perhaps she could speak to Derdre. Vedleug is not too far.

“Vindwal might be able to help. She was his voglendaig.”

“Thank you, Ler,” she replies, quickly backing out of the hut.

When she sees Elizabeth and Kurt approaching, Vindwal shifts from one foot to the other nervously.

“I am not here to cause you any more trouble. I just need your help.”

“What can I do?” she asks warily, still shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“One of the researchers returned from the swamp with bite and claw marks.”

“Now he is ill with the lewolan fever. He will die if it is not treated.”

“Can you help?”

She hesitates for a moment before finally nodding her head. “Yes. The priests could have asked for help but they treat us like children. You helped my son, so I will help you. Wait here a moment,” she says before she steps inside her hut. She returns with a small amber jar full of a thick salve and a bottle of liquid. “This salve must be applied to each wound. This will help reduce the fever and swelling. When he regains consciousness, he must drink the elixir. It will purify his body of the toxins.”

“Thank you, Vindwal.”

Elizabeth and Kurt enter the infirmary and quickly hand over the salve and the elixir with Vindwal’s instructions before returning to their waiting companions.

“It’s starting to get dark. We should find lodging for the night.”

Kurt motions to the shack where the tablets had been kept, leading them inside the now empty space where they lay out their bedrolls and bed down for the night, Elizabeth insisting on taking first watch, otherwise they will skip her turn and let her sleep.

In truth, the only thing she watches is Kurt’s sleeping form next to her, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his eyes under his closed lids.

When Vasco wakes, he takes over and she lays down, falling into sleep almost immediately.

Come morning, she rises early, finding Kurt on the last watch, eyeing her closely.

“I’m going to go and check on the priest’s progress. Get everyone up and ready to go. If he hasn’t come to, we will simply head north. Try to follow any tracks. They’re missionaries, after all. How hard would it be to find them?”

Kurt nods after her, staying put as she slips out the door.

To her surprise, Brother Fidelis seems to have improved some. Still too weak to get up, he is lying on his back and she can now see his dark features, hair and eyes, thick mustache and goatee.

In a dry voice, he mutters, “You must go and help the others! They’re in danger!”

“Where?”

“Head north, through the swamp, deep into the swamp…” he mutters before he falls back into unconsciousness.

Elizabeth looks at Brother Casparus. “Take care of him and I will find the others.”

She leaves the building, running into Kurt, who is carrying her pack, and the others, leading them back out of the village.

Following the north path that led to the place where the exiles were hiding the stolen tablets, they continue on until they reach the swamp. Not far from the path the body of a priest lies face down in a shallow pool, uncomfortably close to a group of lewolans, clearly the victim of an animal attack.

Treading carefully, they skirt around and between the small groupings of creatures that live in the area, evading their attention as they slip through the swamp and return to the area near where Derdre sent them to encounter the nádaig.

Just a short way into the area, there is a new pass open which wasn’t there before. Jagged rocks line the new path.

“This is new,” Elizabeth says as they draw closer.

Kurt takes a closer look at the passage. “Must have been cleared with explosives by the priests. Or some kind of magic,” he adds anxiously.

Just beyond the opening, they discover the body of another priest, this time, with no clear cause of death. The path continues into more swamp, but there are no creatures around. Following the swamp until they reach dry land, they hear yelling in the distance between a woman and a man but too muffled to make out what it’s about.

As they enter, they have a moment to observe the camp which is set into a large rock outcropping and surrounded by a log fence with a few defensive barricades set up at the open gate. A few tents are scattered around inside the perimeter. Elizabeth motions to the others to wait by the gate as she carefully approaches the two missionaries.

“Hey! If your goal is to draw every creature within miles to your camp, mission accomplished.”

Brother Virgil looks surprised to see her, but Sister Eugenia appears relieved. “Perhaps you can settle this for us, your Excellency.”

Brother Virgil eyes her suspiciously. “How did you find us all the way out here?”

“Brother Fidelis pointed us in the right direction, though you were hardly difficult to track through the soft ground of the swamp,” she replies caustically, looking from one to the other for an explanation.

“What about Father Aubricus?”

“Probably dead. Like the others. This is your fault, Eugenia! I should be leading this team.”

Without another word, Brother Virgil marches away up to a ridge that overlooks the rest of the camp while Sister Eugenia moves to a sheltered table against the rock face.

“Kurt, come with me. The rest of you wait here.”

Circling around the path that leads up to the ledge, Elizabeth steps up behind the priest. “Brother Virgil?”

“What do you want?” he asks in a short tone of voice.

“I want to know what is happening here.”

In a long-winded rant, often repeating himself, Virgil details the many ways his colleague is out of her depth and out of her mind. To his mind, they had left from Eden ill-prepared for such an expedition, which he felt was entirely unwarranted to begin with, satisfied with the discovery of the original tablets.

Now that they have made more discoveries, which he outwardly professes he doubts the authenticity of, suspecting the natives of trickery, Eugenia is more determined than ever.

The event that sent Brother Fidelis for help, several missing colleagues, has led to the group being stuck in the camp, afraid to leave, everyone paranoid about natives sneaking into the camp in the middle of the night and following them around, despite there being no villages in the area.

With Kurt on her heels, she returns to the encampment to follow up with Sister Eugenia and get her side of the story.

“Sister Eugenia?” Elizabeth says to the woman, waiting for her to turn in their direction.

“My apologies for what you witnessed before…I’m afraid the situation has become untenable.”

“What happened here?”

Quickly admitting her rush to throw the expedition together without enough planning or preparation, Sister Eugenia paints a much clearer picture of reality for Elizabeth who has already had her own dealings with the Ordo Luminis and their questionable conduct.

Apparently, Virgil was against the expedition from the very beginning. Insisting he lead if it were to take place at all. Most likely so he could maintain control over the situation. And once the new tablets were discovered, and Eugenia and her team had confirmed their authenticity, the very nature of the tablets which also contained native symbols, had angered Virgil who persisted in his insistence that they were forged by the natives.

When their colleagues began to disappear, and Eugenia and the others wanted to go look for them, it had been Brother Virgil who had stopped them, convincing the others that it was unsafe, filling their heads with the nonsense about the natives sneaking around camp at night and following them around the swamp.

“Right now, the most important thing is to look for your missing colleagues.”

“Please, be careful. Follow the path south. It will lead you to one of our excavation sites.”

“We’ll return as soon as we’ve found them…”

Back at the campfire, Elizabeth gathers everyone and sets out together. South of the camp, they pass under a stone arch and come directly to a roped off excavation site, Elizabeth, Kurt and Aphra climbing down to the large, unearthed fossil below where they discover the body of one of the missing priests lying face down.

“It looks like he fell.”

Aphra leans in and takes a closer look at the man. “It was meant to. This fracture was created with a mace.”

“So not an accident and not by native hands…”

After backtracking a short way, Kurt stops and draws his sword, using it to push some undergrowth aside, revealing a path beyond the thick bushes. Elizabeth and the others follow him on to another excavation site. This one looks to have been used as a camp for a while with tents and shelters erected around an old campfire.

In an area still roped off that sits below the rest of the camp they find an ancient standing stone near a collapsed cave. Beyond it there are some large bones lying uncovered and another missionary who has been fed upon by creatures in the area.

“There’s not much left…”

Again, Aphra examines the body. “No, but there is a telltale mark here,” she says, pointing at a spot on his back that had been hidden from predators. “That mark could only have been produced by some type of blade.”

As they leave the site, they continue on the path into some more swampland, following around the old camp and up to a ledge discovering another body which looks to have been bitten but there is no reason for the man to have been there so far from camp.

“Why would he be all the way out here?”

“I don’t know, but those bite marks are fresh. That’s not what killed him,” Kurt replies confidently.

Aphra kneels beside the body and takes a close look. “These iridescent marks, I’ve seen them before. These are the signatures of the priests’ magic attacks…”

“His distance from the camp…he must have been lured here and attacked. These deaths were all arranged.”

“By someone particularly interested in driving fear into the others,” Kurt agrees, his hand lightly brushing hers as she passes.

“Brother Virgil, no doubt. He must answer for this.”

Continuing along the same path, brings them to a steep ledge right near the missionaries’ camp. Kurt reaches out and takes Elizabeth’s hand, lowering her carefully over the side, then does the same for Aphra and the priest. He and Vasco just drop to the ground below after, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

Elizabeth debates for a moment when they arrive in camp what to do next. If she forces a confrontation with Brother Virgil in front of everyone, things could get ugly. Instead, she decides to confront him alone first to see what he has to say for himself.

“Your Excellency! Back so soon?”

The first thing she notices is that he sounds rather surprised to see them. Now to give him just enough rope…

“We found your missing colleagues.”

“What a waste!”

…and let him hang himself.

“I didn’t say they were dead…”

“I, uh, I don’t understand.”

“Oh, they’re dead, but then you already knew that, didn’t you?” she asks, her head cocked to the side the way Kurt so often does.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply…”

“The deaths of your colleagues were no accident. You have been blaming Sister Eugenia, blaming the natives and spreading fear. And for what?”

Just when Elizabeth expects the man to double down, he cracks and begins to make a full confession.

“What they are doing is heresy! Our entire foundation is at risk, so, yes, I wanted to scare them so they would drop their research and return to Eden.”

“Protecting your dogma, misguided as it may be I could understand, but committing murder to accomplish it?

“Do not be a hypocrite, dear. How far would you go to protect the Congregation? Would you not kill for it? Have you not already?”

The sheer nerve of this man. Elizabeth can feel Kurt’s hand at the back of her arm, gripping her sleeve, begging for permission to split the man’s skull. Carefully reaching back, she grips his arm, steeling him, trying to still his rage.

“Fine, if you insist on avoiding violence, convince Eugenia to go back to Eden. The Ordo Luminis will handle the artifacts and you will be handsomely rewarded.”

“You would first insult me and then try to bribe me?” she asks, without even mentioning the pointlessness of it. The Congregation provides for her so well for a reason.

“Fine. I’ll leave, but I will not forget this…” he says as he flees, his men following behind him.

In the main part of the camp, Elizabeth approaches Sister Eugenia. “I bring you troubling news, Sister. I have found the bodies of your missing colleagues.”

“Was it the creatures?”

“Their deaths were certainly meant to appear that way but, no, they were murdered, their bodies left to be fed on.”

Covering her mouth in abject horror, she stammers, “But…why? Who?”

“Brother Virgil. It seems he was sent by the Ordo Luminis to protect their interests. I’m sorry, but he fled. He and his men.”

“The coward! But why did he do it?”

“What you’ve discovered here threatens the very foundations of your faith. Virgil, I believe, has been trying to sabotage your research all along. He tried to convince you not to come here and then tried to frighten you into returning to Eden. The truth is of no importance. Only defending their dogma. At any cost, apparently.”

“In the end, he accomplished his goal. We will have to return to Eden. We cannot continue our research without help. And I was so close to the next leg of our expedition. The tablets spoke of a journey north, even deeper into the swamp. But now…”

Elizabeth considers the possible ramifications of these discoveries being made public. And what might happen if Brother Virgil manages to get there first. He could destroy any evidence before Sister Eugenia could make it back.

“What if I went in your stead?”

“That would be such a great help, your Excellency! If you continue north from the excavation camp, you’ll find an old path that will take you there. There should be signs of life, dwellings, things of that nature.”

“We’ll return soon with any findings.”

Turning, Eugenia picks up a thick pack and hands it to Elizabeth. “Take this, in case you discover any significant artifacts. And, thank you.”

With Kurt by her side, and the others at her back, she leads them out of camp and back to the excavation camp, ready to do her best to thwart the Ordo Luminis again.

Chapter Text

~Kurt~

Kurt watches with fascination as Elizabeth walks ahead of him, the newly forged metal on her back gleaming in the beams of light that filter through the trees overhead. More than ever, she is a force to be reckoned with, strong and confident, yet still quite vulnerable. With their mutual affection, they make each other vulnerable, and they both know it.

Kurt keeps finding himself reacting in a way that could put both of them at risk. If Virgil were to pick up on their bond, it could spell disaster, especially for Elizabeth who has far more to lose. He could use it to his advantage, using one to hurt the other, or he could blackmail her, or just run right to the prince and name his price.

Though she was careful, and Virgil seemed to miss it, it was a close call. Too close.

Moving forward, Kurt vows to be more vigilant. They may have an ease when at home, or in the middle of nowhere like they are now, but someone has to look out for her. Especially when she seems hellbent on taking risks.

Again, he thanks Constantin for his foresight-and his excellent and discerning taste-as he watches the lovely curve of Elizabeth’s backside sway with her motion through the narrow slit in the back of her coat while he follows along behind her.

Returning to the area with the tall ledge, they pass through a new area of swamp, deeper and denser than the other places they’ve discovered. Overgrown with trees, a thick canopy darkens the ground which is covered in a thick mist that swirls around their feet as they march through.

Not so much a path, as a narrow strip of bogged land enclosed on each side by rising mounds of dirt and roots, the heavy scent of wet earth and the squelching of their boots slogging through the soft ground hangs in the air.

As the canopy opens up some, and the light begins to filter through a bit more, they come to a place that looks like the remains of an ancient village, a few stone walls and earthen huts long left abandoned but still standing as evidence that someone once lived here. Little else is left behind now, most likely already scavenged by anyone who dared to venture out this way.

To the northeast, they spot a low ledge, and Elizabeth leads them to it, climbing up and following a trail that winds around some boulders and a rock face on the opposite side.

Passing a fallen tree that has lain for an untold number of years, they come to another short ledge that opens into a large clearing with a nádaig standing in the center, guarding the place beyond it.

“I am not going to kill a guardian for the sake of some research. Anyone have any ideas?”

Kurt looks up at the rock wall that surrounds the clearing on the left side. “I might,” he replies, pointing out the top of the wall.

Elizabeth follows his finger with her gaze. “Okay, but I’m going alone.”

“Like hell you are, Greenblood!” Kurt exclaims, grabbing her arm before she can begin to climb the nearby outcropping. “I am going with you.”

“Kurt…” Vasco tries to protest.

Kurt gives him one look that silences him. “We’ll be fine, sailor. If we’re not back in a couple of hours…well, let’s just hope we are.”

Moving around to the face of the rock wall, Kurt begins to climb up, helping Elizabeth up as he reaches a foothold, continuing up like that until they reach the top. Pausing a moment, they watch the guardian for movement, but it holds its position in the center, standing guard even as they begin to carefully make their way along the top edge, one section at a time.

Once they reach the other side, Kurt, again, helps lower Elizabeth to the ground before dropping down below. They land on a small ledge outside of the clearing, safe from the guardian. Immediately after, they hear scuffling and pebbles falling from the top of the wall, turning in time to see Petrus slip down rather gangly to the ground behind them.

“Petrus…you were supposed to wait.”

“And miss seeing the place where Saint Matheus might have lived out the end of his days?”

The man has a point. It is his saint after all. Kurt looks to Elizabeth who shrugs with resignation and walks further away into the small clearing ahead of them. There are a few trees and sparse growth but it's obvious that no one has been here for some time.

Inside, they follow a narrow path to an open cavern where light filters in overhead, passing by a waterfall flowing into a gently moving stream. Following the path down around the upper ledge, they come to what looks like a lived-in area with dwellings built into the rock walls.

As they move deeper into the cavern, they pass more of these dwellings carved into the rock itself until they reach a set of rough-cut steps that wind up around the outer wall and to another low ledge. As they climb this ledge and enter, they see two doors, one on each end of the space. Moving forward reveals that the one on the right leads back to the entrance and the other into a small room with two large murals against the back wall.

“Magnificent.” Petrus steps up and kneels before the first mural depicting an old man in a robe kneeling before a native in a ceremonial mask, having his face painted. “It is…him,” he says reverently, barely above a whisper.

Elizabeth watches quietly as Petrus prays for a moment before standing and moving to the other side.

Again, the priest kneels before the mural, this one portraying the same old man in the same robe, holding a rosary and praying to a mountain which bears a face. “Saint Matheus…praying…to en on mil frictimen?”

On a stone altar in between the two frescoes, they discover some ceremonial artifacts. Bowls and candles, a beaded rosary.

“This chaplet…it looks exactly like the one he is depicted with…You cannot imagine, my child, the pure joy it brings me to be here, to see the place where he lived out his life…”

Looking around the place, the mats in the middle might have been used as a makeshift bed, surrounded by pots. Abandoned crates and packs around the edges of the entrance. This was certainly where the old man lived.

Elizabeth carefully picks up the pewter rosary, wrapping it in a handkerchief, and tucks it into her pocket.

On the right side of the space, near the wall, they find a small standing stone, covered in glyphs and native symbols. In the center, what looks like an image of the sun, very similar to the symbol of the Enlightenment. Below it, words in the ancient language of Gacane.

Petrus draws closer, reading the words aloud, “The light and the earth are the two faces of the same power…”

Crossing back to the left side of the room they find another small standing stone with more glyphs and native symbols, a mountain carved into the center with more writing below, this time native words.

“Men duis dad, en on mil frichtimen,” Elizabeth reads from the stone.

In the middle of the room, they discover more tablets which Elizabeth carefully slips into the pack that Sister Eugenia gave her, each one protected in a small, padded pocket inside.

“This discovery, it changes everything we know about our faith. It will mean great upheaval for our nation, but especially for the Ordo Luminis and the missionaries on the island. Our relations with the natives…”

She pauses for a moment, hesitating. ‘Petrus, what should I do?”

Kurt grips her hand in his. “These revelations might start a war, or they might bring peace with the natives, but it isn’t our decision to make.”

“You’re right. I’ll take them to the camp and let them decide.”

Carefully backtracking through the cave and back over the rock wall, they drop back down to the ledge where Vasco and Aphra wait, anxiously jumping to their feet.

“I’m sorry, de Sardet, we tried to stop him, but he insisted and might have threatened to use magic against us if we didn’t allow him to go.”

“Vasco, it’s alright. He was actually…rather helpful in his own way.”

“Did you learn anything new?” Aphra asks curiously, changing the subject.

“Actually, we did,” Elizabeth mutters, recalling the discoveries.

For a moment Aphra stares at her, mouth agape before she suddenly dissolves into gales of laughter, doubling over and holding her stomach. “To think…that the revered saint of Thélème…spent the end of his days…worshiping the island god!”

“Aphra, this is something that must remain a secret until they decide what to do with it.”

“Oh, yes, of course, but I can’t help but find this whole thing laughable. I can already imagine the reaction of my colleagues…” she exclaims, still emitting peals of laughter.

Turning, Elizabeth shakes her head and begins to solemnly lead them back toward camp.

As they enter the gate, one of the researchers taps Sister Eugenia on the shoulder, pointing at them as they approach.

“Were you able to find it?” she asks hopefully as she meets them over the campfire.

“We did find a cavern that was home to a people quite a long time ago. Most likely natives judging by the style of the dwellings and the symbols carved into the stone walls.

“And were there signs of Saint Matheus?”

Elizabeth pulls the pack from her shoulder and offers it to her. “There were these tablets.” She waits while Sister Eugenia pulls a tablet out and looks it over.

“This…this is incredible. Our saint believed that the Enlightened and the island spirit…were the same being?”

“It certainly seems that way. There were two paintings deep inside the cave, of Saint Matheus involved in native rituals, having his face painted and praying to the god of the mountain.”

Elizabeth carefully pulls the handkerchief from her pocket, placing it in her hand and watching as she opens it, gasping as the first few pewter beads are revealed.

“His chaplet…this leaves no doubt that all of this is authentic. I…it’s overwhelming.”

“It was for Father Petrus as well.”

“I must present these findings to the Mother Cardinal. Our entire dogma will have to change to reflect these discoveries.”

The sound of heavy armor and boots marching into camp interrupts their discussion.

A round-faced man in a cardinal’s helm and Thélème war armor steps up with his arms crossed over his chest followed closely by Brother Virgil who wears a smug look on his face.

“Virgil…some nerve you have to come back after what you did!”

“Lies spread by her Excellency. Let’s ask her about her own skeletons, shall we, Father Honorious?” he asks, looking at Kurt rather pointedly.

“That will be all, Brother Virgil,” the man says sternly. “These discoveries are a heresy. You will hand them over immediately so that we may see to their destruction.

“Destroyed? These are priceless relics of our founder!”

“For our nation and our faith. Brother Virgil was right. You are all far too obstinate for your own good. Very well. You leave us no choice.”

“Death to heretics!” Virgil exclaims as he begins to target a spell in Elizabeth’s direction.

Kurt reacts by falling on his instincts, grabbing Elizabeth and turning with her in his arms, shielding her from Virgil’s attack and shoving her as far away from combat as he can with a low grunt. Turning back, he is advancing on the man before he can blink, his breath coming fast and hard as his heart beats firmly against his chest.

Sword drawn, a predator stalking his prey, watching as the man’s eyes widen in fear. True fear of the likes he has probably never known before nor ever will again. Even as he continues to move forward, the priest begins to back away, looking left and right for an escape or help that will not come. At least not in time to save him.

Kurt knows the man is weaker, ill-prepared for the juggernaut headed his way, but he does not stop.

As Virgil keeps backing away, desperately trying to escape while using ineffectual magic that mostly sputters harmlessly off of Kurt’s armor, his feet hit the incline of the rising ridge behind him, sending him flailing backwards and to the ground below, falling with a thud as his head makes contact with the ground.

Coming to stand over his body, blood boiling and his pulse thrumming in his ears, Kurt lifts his sword over his head, plunging it deep into the man’s chest, only stopping when he feels the point of the blade impact the rocky ground beneath him.

With his ears stopped, he simply watches as the blood spreads over the chest and under the body of the former priest, deaf to what is happening behind him until a hand falls on his shoulder, drawing him back into the moment.

“Kurt, it’s over.”

Nodding, but unable to look at her, he asks, “Is everyone…are you okay?”

“We’re all fine. We outnumbered them, easily.”

“Did any of them get away this time?”

“No. They’re…they’re all dead.”

“Good,” he replies, setting his jaw before he extracts his sword, cleaning it on the man’s vestments, leaving a red stain soaking into the grain of the fabric, and sliding it back into its sheath.