Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I steal a few breaths

From the world for a minute

And then I'll be nothing forever

Rayla breathes deep as the wind blows past her, hair tickling the back of her neck. The sun is shining, yet she shivers slightly in the September air. Her eyes close almost involuntarily as she lifts her head, taking in the hustle and bustle of the Harvest Festival preparations. It feels so peaceful. Even completely alone, she is fine.

“Rayla!” calls an excited voice someone to her left, startling her out of her stupor “Can you come help me with something?” It was Soren. He waves at her with a goofy grin on his face. She would never understand how he could be so cheerful literally all the time.

She jumps from her perch in the courtyard’s tree to the dirt, kicking up a little cloud of dust. A few people jump slightly at the sight of an elf seemingly dropping out of nowhere. Then they forcefully calm themselves in a way only people familiar with neutral facades could. Working in the royal palace gave people certain acting abilities, she guesses. At least the simmering animosity was better than outright hostility. “What is it?” she asks, “I hope it’s not another training ‘sesh’” she air quoted, “I’m not in the mood to answer more questions about how my hands work at the moment.” She crosses her arms and juts a hip out.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” He raised his hands in a calming gesture. The scar on his nose from the recent break looks itchy. Or maybe she’s feeling sympathy itch. “King Ezran told me to help the Ambassadors Accommodation Committee! The ack , if you will.” She will not. “The thing is, I’m not sure His Majesty was really thinking when he told me to, considering I don’t know anything about…anything the ACC does, really.” He shrugged helplessly, “I think the stress is getting to Ez, he seems a little…  ehhhh lately, y’know?”

She sighs good-naturedly, then uncrosses her arms and responds, “Yeah, if he doesn’t take days off soon we’ll have to sned him to bed with no supper,” she deadpans. Soren looked a little confused, and she inwardly slaps her forehead. She really needs to stop using dark humor around him, it’s starting to get disheartening. She changes the subject when she notices the people around them are looking at her funny. Tough crowd, she supposes. “Anyways… what’s this committee thingy? And what do they do exactly?”

“Oh, right! They’re the ones who’re in charge of the rooms and food for the visiting ambassadors for the Harvest Festival. Y’know, from other countries like, like…” He trails off, thinking deeply, “Noodleoodlia? Nah.. that doesn’t sound right,” he mumbles.

“Neolandia?” she raises an eyebrow, “How’d you become Crownguard when you can’t even name another human kingdom?” 

“ Pshh . I don’t need topography to kick ass!”

“Do you mean… geography ?” she questions.

“Yeah. That’s what I said: geepeepee!”

“I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that. You were saying?”

“Right! Like I was saying, the ACC is in charge of the Ambassadors’ visits. What type of curtains they’re gonna use and stuff like that. The King was speaking with some nobles when the ACC leader, his name is Aeden by the way, asked him about something. He was too busy to handle it right then, so he told me to join the committee and deal with it for them and I really don’t know what I’m doing so if you could help me I would really appreciate it-” 

She cuts him off, “- I get it. I’ll help, but I need to know what I’m helping with?” 

“Ah, thanks! You’re a life-saver! Some of the ambassadors are from the Moonshadow Forest-” And she stops hearing the words he’s speaking after that.

Moonshadow elves? Here? In Katolis? Her heart starts beating faster and faster, enough that she can hear the blood rushing past her eardrums. She can’t believe it. Maybe she doesn’t want to; doesn’t want to see the familiar white hair and purple markings. Her heart hurts.

“- are you alright, Rayla?” She snaps back to reality. The wind is blowing on them. She focuses on the rough fabric of the clothes Callum got someone to lend her. The sun is hitting her skin and she is fine. The wind is refreshing.

“Sorry. Spaced out for a second there.” She forces an apologetic smile onto her face. Her skin crawls when Soren doesn’t stop staring intently at her. She hates the pity in his gaze. It’s demeaning. It’s beneath her .

“Right… well, what do you think we should serve them for dinner? The night after the festival, I mean, the ‘goodbye food’ or whatever it’s called.”

She takes in a deep breath through her nose, closes her eyes again. She is fine. “Something vegetarian. Corn, maybe? They might like corn… but make sure there isn’t too much seasoning though. Salt and pepper only. Moonshadow food tends to be simple.”

Soren finally gains his signature grin back, “I probably should’ve thought of that! I was just freaking out about how little I know…” he rubs the back of his head, “Anyways, you’re sure I can keep asking you about the elves? I don’t want to bring up any… crummy memories.” That stupid sympathetic look is back on his face.

“I’m fine!” she accidentally says it too loudly. More people are looking at her. Now they are not fearing, but compassionate, soft . They all know why she is here, after a noble had forced Ezran to explain why he had vacationed for a month with only his brother and an elven assassin .

They know she is alone. They know she has nowhere else to go. Some of them have even heard her screams at night, awoken by terrible visions of Lord Viren: emerging from his horrible cocoon and wreaking havoc on her loved ones once again. 

She breathes in. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She breathes out. She smiles. Soren does not seem convinced. For how stupid he seems he’s surprisingly perceptive.

“Alrighty! Well, I’ll see ya around.” He jokingly salutes then waves as he jogs away.

She waves back, but she knows it looks half hearted, even though she can’t see herself. She lets herself drop her smile, even though the onlookers tense once again. She’s been so tired lately. She’s been waking up early from nausea and staying up late into the night to avoid the nightmares. She’s sure the bags under her eyes aren’t making her intimidating aura any more palatable to the poor palace servants who have to deal with her.

And all of my memories

And all of the things I have seen 

Will be gone 

With my eyes 

With my body

WIth me

She sighs, stretches, and begins the trek up to Callum’s office. Her feet hurt. She ignores it, after all, it won’t do to whine endlessly.

She reaches the door and knocks, but she needn’t bother. She knows her big, dumb human is probably too busy reading or magicing or… whatever it is he does to tell her to come in, so she enters anyways.

Sure enough, there he is, sitting at his desk with that infuriatingly adorable grin of his, intently focused on some tome. His attention is so absorbed that she walks to all the way across the room to right behind his chair. She supposes that could also be attributed to her light assassin’s gait. She glances over his shoulder and smiles fondly. Whatever nonsense the book is talking about is beyond her, but it was in Elvish so she could recognize words like ‘primal sources and ‘the’. 

The fondness mostly came from a recent memory, at the Moon Nexus. When Callum had finally realized that the Common Tongue wasn’t her first language, he had insisted on pillaging Lujanne’s collection of Elvish books to learn it immediately. At the time it had been a bit annoying that he chose to spend the day wasting away looking at books instead of cuddling with her, but now all she feels is a warmth in her heart at the thought that someone could care enough about her to learn an entire language. She was also mildly impressed at his memory as he proved that it was nearly perfect. 

She shook herself out of her recollections, refocusing on how she could spook Callum the best, hopefully getting one of those ridiculous shocked expressions of him that she loved so much. The way his eyes got wide and his mouth gaped open was so endearing to her. Moon and Stars, everything about him endeared her. He was too likable; it was unfair.

She blew a soft breath onto his ear, he twitched a bit. His green eyes finally glance away from his book, quickly dismissing what they saw to return back, but then just as quickly widening in panic as he made a rather undignified flinch away from her.

“Graaah!!!” He was probably getting a good stretch in his shoulders with how he was clutching the back of his chair. That was very unfortunate, as the chair tipped over from his backwards lunge and hit the carpet-covered ground with a resounding thump . He tentatively lifts a hand to his chest and breathes out, deflating in relief. “Lady Justice, Rayla, I thought I was done for.” 

He was trying (very badly) to appear mad at her, but she knew him well enough to know he was mostly upset that he had been bested in their little game again. “Sorry,” she laughed, sounding anything but, “It was too good an opportunity to resist.” She lifts a hand out to him, which he accepts with a good natured eye roll.

As he dusts himself off he questions “Did your meditation help at all? I know you’ve been under a lot of stres-”

“I’m fine!” She was starting to feel like a certain annoying parrot. Why couldn’t these damn humans just butt out of her feelings like normal people? “I just missed you. Wanted to sit together while you talked about your magic nonsense… ?” She lifted her voice at the end, imitating a question even though she knows he wouldn’t deny her cuddles.

He huffed, “It’s not nonsense,” he badly imitated her Moonshadow accent, causing her to admonish him with a scowl, which he paid no mind, “You’re just better at thinking with your swords than your brain.” He puts his hands on his hips and lifts his smug face to the ceiling.

“Is that your way of calling me stupid?” She mocks, taking great joy in the way his face melts into horror.

“N-no I swear- I didn’t- that wasn’t what I-” he trips over his words, before realization dawns on his face as she does a poor job at masking her humor. “Aaaand… you got me. Yeah, hah-hah , I got it. Way to go, Rayla!” He starts slowly applauding, filled with so much sarcasm she’s almost proud.

“You just make it too easy,” she reached to caress his reddened face, stilling him. Their eyes connect and fill with easy reconciliation. She loves spending time with him because of this. They understand each other. He understands her, in a way no one else has managed to.

She’s heard it said that eyes were the windows to the soul, but it never made sense until she entered his piercing gaze. She can’t hide anything from him. He bursts through all her walls in a way that should put her on edge, but she can’t bring herself to resent him. He’s just so good , it makes her feel worthy when he looks at her. Like everything she’s been through and done was worth something.

They lean towards each other, lips locking chastely. Her eyes fall closed gently. His body is warm and solid under hers. She reaches up to his shoulders as she deepens the kiss. His arms are getting more toned the more he practices the mage wing spell.

As she breaks away for breath, she runs her hand over the hair flopping over his ear. Everything about him is beautiful. She feels guilty for every moment she steals from him. She can’t believe she almost left him at the Moon Nexus. She can’t believe she didn’t listen to her instincts and leave to protect him. She was still haunted by the appalling sight of Viren, growing on the world like a cancer, refusing to die, choking the land around him with the sickly stench of corruption.

She wishes she were better at focussing on what was in front of her. She doesn’t want to think about Viren when she is with Callum, an impulse she considers almost worse than her inability to kill those deserving. Though Callum has assured her endlessly that there was no way Viren was still alive, she couldn’t shake it. She couldn’t shake off her failure to disregard her wants for the sake of others. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She doesn’t know why she can’t just leave.

Actually…. upon further thought, she does. It was all Soren’s fault.

We are doing better 

It’s always been just him and me together

She takes a deep breath. She composes herself. She leans over Callum’s sleeping form. He looks so content, and a pang of guilt runs through her at the knowledge of what she is about to do.

“White lies are illusions you build with your words to protect the hearts of the ones you love.”

She grimaces, glances around the rooms to give herself something to do. His sketchbook lays open on a drawing of her and Ezran playing with Phoe-Phoe. Her heart clenches painfully. She needs to distract herself so she doesn’t lay down and sleep. She needs to leave now.

“I’m sorry. You can’t come with me.”

She breathes in through her nose, whistling lightly. She takes a step towards the door. Then another. She forces her feet forward. Each step is a new kind of agony. The door creaks open as she steps into the light of the waning moon. The light feels like healing balm on her skin. The wind blows her hood off her head. She breathes out through her mouth.

It is not a perfect night. The shadows of the clouds fall over the caldera like the fingers of a giant gripping the earth. She is silent under the stars. Leola’s Last Wish is steadily vigilant over her. Her peaceful state of not thinking don’t think don’t picture him is broken by the sound of a branch breaking underfoot ahead of her.

She startles, then lightly treds behind a tree and up its branch, taking a spot in the foliage where she can see out but no one should be able to see her. She’s pretty sure it’s an animal, but it never hurts to be careful. She listens closely to the snapping sounds as they approach her hiding spot. It is obviously a person now, if the unintelligible murmurs she’s hearing is anything to go by.

Her ears perk up as they come close enough to understand. “I hate trees! Almost as bad as those stupid moon moths… shit!!!” She feels her facial muscles pull into a look of disappointed incredulity. Why is Soren out in the middle of the woods? In the middle of the night?

He draws his sword and suddenly lashes out at the shrubbery. He keeps tripping over roots he cannot see with his limited human night vision. The clouds covering the moon probably doesn’t help him much, either. He lunges at the tree she’s in, and in her delirious sleep deprived state she looses her grip on the tree trunk out of shock.

She goes tumbling to the forest floor, only barely managing to catch herself before she sprains her ankle or worse.

“Who’s there?!” Soren yelps at the crashing noises, “You better look out! You’re dealing with the Crownguard of Katolis, trespasser! HyaaAAHHH…!” He yells as he starts running at her, but trips once more, landing safely on his hands and knees, thankfully.

“ Calm down, Mister Crownguard. It’s just me.” She tries to channel as much normality into her words as she can. She doesn’t want Soren to suspect anything.

“Lady Mercy, Rayla! You scared the shit out of me! What’re you doing out here?” He gets up and pouts angrily. She can’t find it in her to care about scaring him. Moon knew he needed more than a bit of an ego check. His question, though, could pose a problem.

“Nothing much. Just taking a little moonlit stroll.” She thinks she keeps her cool well enough. Unfortunately it’s ruined by the untimely intervention of a sudden breeze, moving a cloud from over them and bathing the area in pale moonlight.

“Why are you wearing your pack, then? And your travel clothes?”

“Erm… Just felt cold in the pajamas?”

“That doesn’t explain the pack, though.”

“Better to be prepared than dead.” She nods sagely.

“Ookaaaay… But why are you walking towards the path off the caldera?” She curses inwardly, then turns away from him and curses under her breath for good measure. She should have paid more attention when Callisto gave infiltration lessons.

“Rayla? You good?”

“AbsoTUTEly amazing, Soren. Thanks for asking.” She throws her arms up in frustration.

“Uhh… I can’t say I know anything about what’s going on but you seem kinda… unstable. Right now.”

“I am perfectly fine , just like I said , Soren.” 

He looks confused for a second, considers something. “Oh! Sarcasm!”

“No. The truth. I’m fine,” she insists.

“You know… It’s okay to not be okay, right? Like I know we don’t know each other all that well, but you helped save the world while expecting nothing in return. So I trust you, I trust that you’re a good person. Even if you don’t trust me. I’m here if you need to… vent or anything. That’s the least I could do in return for all you’ve done for Katolis.” 

She nearly lets her mouth fall open in surprise. She scans his face and body, checking for any signs of subterfuge. There’s nothing. He’s completely sincere, knowledge which she has no idea what to do with. She had told him at the Storm Spire that he was more than a big dumb lump, but she isn’t ready for this.

She sighs. Her stupid moral compass won’t let her just leave now. “How about a sparing match?” he suggests cheerfully, “We can talk while training.” He looks like he knows she’s avoiding talking. She ignores him and picks herself up off the ground. She ignores how well he knows her habits only a few weeks after meeting her. It’s infuriating.

She leads them to a small clearing with fairly even terrain. Her pack soaks up the collecting dew on the grass as she sets it down. Soren takes up a spot opposite her, lifting his hands into fists in front of him. “So… you’re not gonna fight my fists with swords, right? I kinda like having hands,” he jokes.

Despite herself, she huffs a laugh, “Nah, we’ll do hand to hand. I’m getting rusty, anyways.” She falls into her fighting stance.

“Coulda fooled me…” he complains, likely harkening back to the many times she’s kicked his ass in training bouts before. And also all the regular fights she’d won before he’d left his father.

“To the three second pin?” She asks, to which he nods in assent, “Let’s do best out of five then.” 

He nods again, smirking, “Should be enough time.” She really wants to burst his arrogant little bubble.

Not giving him a single moment of preparation, she leaps at him, legs behind her as she collides her fist into his pectoralis. She only notices now that he’s wearing ridiculous pink pajamas, very unfortunate for him. Very advantageous to her.

He groans in pain and lets his stance falter. A rookie mistake. Or a mistake one used to wearing armor makes.

She plants her feet into the ground and twists her other fist into his shirt over his shoulder. He grasps her wrist with both hands as she attempts to drag him to the ground. She shoves the palm of her hand into his head, pushing with all her might to the side. He finally gives up on her wrist when his feet stumble under him, felling him to one knee.

She releases him before he can use his stronger base to throw her. She quickly leaps to the side, away from his reach, then behind him before he can recover to standing. She slips into a squat, then slides her arms under his armpits, making twin ‘L’s to hold him in place. He tries reaching behind him to grab her, but she just sways to the side to avoid his searching hands.

She lifts with all her might, making sure to use the full strength of her thighs to avoid stressing her arms too much. Soren is lifted off the ground from his kneel, and she is too quick for him to get his feet under him. She throws him to the ground and twists his arms into a pin, making sure to not dislocate anything important.

“You know your leaving would crush Callum, right?” He chokes out as she is counting to three. Her grip loosens in shock. He takes the opening and throws his skull into her nose. She flinches back in time to avoid a broken bone. 

He rears again, and she is forced to release him. She leaps back to her feet and takes a ready stance for his next advance. He scrambles to his feet and turns to face her. They circle each other, looking for a weak point.

“He’s very melodramatic. I don’t want to deal with whatever angst he comes up with if you leave him on his birthday. That’s messed up, Rayla.” He scowls at her, which makes her feel inexplicably guilty. She shakes it off. She has nothing to feel guilty about. She’s doing the right thing. 

“You wouldn’t understand, Soren,” she retorts as she lunges again. This time she lands right before him and looses a high kick at his shoulder. He reads her movements before she can complete it, stepping back and grabbing her ankle.

Before he can recover he snaps it to the ground, hitting the dirt as well to make sure she goes down. Her other leg buckles, but she throws her weight forward so her leg is ripped from him and so she won’t be supine when she goes down. 

Unfortunately she overestimates the distance, essentially throwing herself into his arms. He catches her wrists, then layers her arms over themselves so she is forced to turn. Now her arms are posed like she is in a straight jacket, keeping her helpless as Soren pushes her front into the ground.

“What, d’you think you’re doing him a favor or something? Even someone as fucked up as you has to know that that’s a crappy reason to up and leave . I thought you were better than this ,” he nearly hisses the last part into her ear. She decides that she’s going to hate him forever.

She cries out in wordless anger. She rears as best as she can, unsettling him enough that she can roll to put him under her. She plants her feet on the ground around him then throws her entire weight down onto him. He finally lets go. 

She uses her hands to drag herself up. She needs to win now. She needs to prove him wrong.

They are circling again when the spots from the impact leave her vision. He is staring intently at her. She can’t pinpoint the emotion in his gaze. It unnerves her. She needs to know how he could have fooled her so easily with his hopeless idiot act. Because it has to be an act. There is no way the doofy guy who makes puns is the same one across from her right now.

“I heard rumors that Moonshadows were seriously crazy… but you’re on another level, aren’t you?”

She sees red. How dare he. She’s going to knock his ass into next week

She doesn’t even have a plan as she tackles him. She is running on enough adrenaline that her strength easily overpowers him. His back hits the ground in what must be a painful way, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“You don’t know anything, Soren,” she nearly snarls. He still has that stupid look on his face. He doesn’t even falter when she punches him straight in the face.

She punches him again when his head lifts. His skin is already smarting. She doesn’t care. She wants him to take it back .

She pauses enough to see what he’ll say. She wants to hear what this asshat will say.

“I’m sorry, Rayla.” She feels her hand fall out of the air. She had expected him to say something bigoted and awful. She doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m sorry your people are so fucked up that you think leaving him will fix anything.” That’s more like it. She punches again. There’s blood on her knuckles. She can’t tell who’s it is.

“I know you’re going to look for Viren, but he’s dead , Rayla.” Crunch . She’s pretty sure she’s broken his nose.

“And Callum needs you, Rayla.” He sounds surprisingly pleading. She doesn’t understand what’s going on. Her eyes are beginning to water up in what she thinks is frustration.

She gets off him, jumps back and allow him to get up. She is horrified by the bright red staining the skin of her hand. She holds back her tears out of pure habit, but she lets herself cover her mouth in shock. 

Even in her righteous anger, she couldn’t believe she’d done that. She’d actually broken his nose . Dear Moon, what was wrong with her?

“What are you waiting for?” He breaks her out of her disbelief.

She looks at him in pure confusion. She doesn’t understand him at all. He is standing completely vulnerable in front of her. He doesn’t take a stance, and he doesn’t look away from her face.

“You said best of five. Get to it.” Then he lowers himself back to the ground. She’s baffled. 

She slowly slinks back over to him. His nose is bleeding over his face and into the grass. And his stupid pink pajamas. It smells of iron and morning dew. He pats the ground next to him, and Rayla realizes he wants her to lay down next to him. She doesn’t know what else to do, so she obliges.

The world is lightening as the sun breaches the top of the caldera. The color of the sky is pleasant purple, which reminds her of days long since past, eating Moonberry Surprise with first her parents, then Runaan and Ethari. Days she had spent if not happy, then content. She misses them. She misses a lot.

Soren breathes in deep. “I don’t understand you at all. You make no sense to me,” he says.

“Gee, thanks.” Her voice is weak in her ears. Weak and vulnerable, like she hates.

“I didn’t mean that like… as a bad thing. Like you said, I don’t understand a lot.” He sounds just as pathetic as her.

“I-I didn’t mean that. I was just really angry. I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You don’t have to apologize. You were right. And I’m not offended, ‘cause it’s true.” She’s so tired, she closes her eyes and listens to the wind.

“I don’t know a lot, but I’m pretty sure you don’t either.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hear me out! You don’t know if my father is alive or dead. You don’t know what will happen if you leave. You don’t know if it’ll keep Callum safe.”

“I want to keep everyone safe.”

“Pfft- sure. Yeah, okay. Cut the bullshit, Rayla. Everyone on this stupid moon mountain can tell he’s your first priority.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she stays quiet.

“I’m not offended at that either. Everyone has priorities that seem selfish. It’s a part of being hu- I mean, a person. I want to protect Ezran. You want to protect Callum. We’re similar like that.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

“That’s what you think. But it’s more than just that. We both have shit fathers, for one-”

“I do not have a shit father, excuse you?”

“Agree to disagree! We wouldn’t be here if your father is halfway decent, is what I mean-”

“Are you going to get to the point or are you going to keep insulting people I care about?”

“Right. What I was getting at is, I understand what you’re going through. I was given an impossible mission by my dad once, one that would have had me kill someone. I only considered it because I wanted his approval. I wanted that more than anything. It was selfish of me to want that, so I tried to pretend that I was acting out of the greater good. But now I see that I didn’t have to pretend. Everyone deserves to be a little selfish, Rayla, even you. Even me. Obviously I’m not telling you to go kill King Ezran, but you need to let yourself be selfish.”

“What does selfishness have to do with me?”

“We have the same problem! We can’t do anything for ourselves. We’d do anything for people we care about. It sucks, is what I’m saying, being selfless all the time. It just makes you feel all hollow inside, like a pumpkin with all its guts cut out or something.

“If all you ever do is for other people, you’re gonna work and give yourself into an early grave.

“You keep giving and giving until you have no more pumpkin guts left to give, then eventually the ants get you after you start decomposing, which is really gross, by the way. I have no idea where the pumpkin thing is going.”

“Get to the point, Soren.”

“What use are you to Callum if you’re a dead pumpkin, Rayla?”

And for the first time in this bizarre, shambling mess of a conversation, she understands something.

“You’re saying.. I should stay because I’ll protect Callum better with him?” 

“ Lady Mercy … fine! If that’s what it takes to keep you here. Sure. Stay here because he needs you to protect him.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying…”

“I know. But you will.” Then he grabs her wrist and plops it onto his forehead. After three awkward seconds of silence he sits up and says, “Congrats, you win.”

So I bet all I have / On that furrowed brow

She is lying in Callum’s lap. She knows this because his room smells distinctly of ink and charcoal dust. She cuddles into his thigh, seeking warmth as she shakes off her sleepiness.

Then she snaps up ramrod straight. “Oh, Callum. I’m so sorry! I haven’t been getting much sleep lately…” she trails off.

“Callum sets his sketchbook down and laughs lightly at her panic. “Don’t worry, I get it. Plus, sleepy cuddles still count as cuddles, right?”

She smiles warmly at his acceptance. She can’t believe she fell asleep while they were making out. She’s glad he’s so understanding.

She leans into him and lets herself relax. She doesn’t understand how she could love him so much. 

Her love feels like a miracle sometimes.

And at least in this lifetime 

We’re sticking together

Chapter Text

Rose-colored boy 

I hear you making all that noise

About the world you want to see

Rayla breathes in the scent of today’s pastries. She is sitting at the breakfast table, Ezran, Soren, and Opeli across from her, Callum at her side. The jelly tarts are not quite as good as Moonberry Surprise, but they scratch the same itch. Runaan had always been confounded at her bottomless love of sweets, semi-regularly remarking on how ‘un-Moonshadow’ it was of her. Runaan had… it still hurts to think of him in the past tense.

“Alright, Your Majesty, it’s time to go over your schedule for today,” Opeli ruins the peaceful mood at the table by bringing up work.

“Really, Opeli? I can’t even enjoy my jelly tarts in peace?” Ezran jokes, but with real pain underneath.

“Unfortunately your kingly duties can’t wait for jelly tarts. You have a full agenda today.”

“Can we at least go over them while eating?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. First, immediately following breakfast you have a meeting with the captain of the city guard, followed by an adjoined inspection of the outer works, then you will supervise a session of lawmaking with the visiting nobles, then…” and so on she listed, boggling Rayla’s mind with the amount of tasks the court seemed to be throwing at a nine year old.

“And finally, your day will conclude with an audience with the visiting Duke and Duchess of Marcester.” Opeli sounded like she was in pain while she recovered her breath. Rayla was begrudgingly impressed that she could recite so many things from memory without stopping once.

“Sorry guys, I guess I’ve gotta go, now.” Ezran looks down in dismay as he climbs off his chair. The absurdity of how short his legs are compared to the weight on his shoulders nearly makes her laugh out loud.

Laughter isn’t what comes out of her mouth, though. Instead, it’s a rush of sour tasting air as her stomach suddenly heaves. ‘Not again’, she thinks, ‘four times this week already,’ as she rushes suddenly out of the room, not stopping to say a word.

And oh, I'm so annoyed 

'Cause I just killed off what was left of 

The optimist in me

She runs fast enough to make it to a bucket. Unfortunately it’s the same bucket a servant is using to mop the floors, so he looks at her in disgust as she heaves out her precious pastries again. At least his mop wasn’t in the bucket when she used to vacate her stomach. Or else she’d have to deal with that on top of her mounting sickness.

“Lady Justice, Rayla, are you okay?” It’s Callum, who presumably followed her out after her abrupt exit.

“ Just peachy,” she attempts to reassure him, slightly undercut by another groan as she throws up once again. This one stings worse with the taste of pure stomach acid.

She stews in her misery while Callum apologizes to the servant, before sending him away to get a new bucket.

“Maybe you should take the day off…” This time the words come from Soren, who Rayla hadn’t realized had also followed her.

“No!” she yells, then quietly continues, “I’m fine. I can work.”

Callum and Soren give her incredulous looks, despite the fact that what she says is perfectly reasonable. She isn’t incapable of working, so she should carry on. It’s not hard to understand.

“Just because you can work doesn’t mean you should .” Callum drawls. She scoffs at the words. She can’t afford to be idle right now. There’s too much work to do.

“I’m fine, it usually passes after a while-”

“Usually!? How long has this been going on?” Callum demands.

“Not too long…” she replies dubiously. She wishes she were a better liar. “It’s just a little stomach inflammation! Probably from all the human food.”

Callum doesn’t look like he buys it, but Soren seems to have a revelation of some sort, his eyes lighting up in recognition. Of what, she doesn’t know.

“Maybe we should believe her on this one, Callum,” and now Rayla is the incredulous one. Soren? Taking her side? It’s almost as unbelievable as the fact that she’s in the castle at all.

“What? She’s obviously sick!” Callum insists, “Come on, I’m taking you back to our room.” He moves to help her off the floor.

Panicked, Rayla finds herself looking at Soren for help, a new experience to her.

“ Seriously , Callum. Drop it.” Soren responds to her wordless plea.

“ What ?” Callum repeats himself.

“I’ll keep an eye on her, Crownguard’s oath and all that. Besides, what other elf can we consult on the visiting elven ambassadors ?”

“You can use your common sense, dumbass!”

“Language,” Soren admonishes, to which Callum makes a sour face. ‘Hypocrite’, she thinks. 

“You’d be surprised how stupid the ACC can be, she’s needed for this meeting. I promise I’ll make sure she takes it easy, gets lots of fluids, so on and so forward.”

“You mean… so forth?” Callum seems to calm down slightly.

“Same differing,” Soren says proudly. Neither Callum nor Rayla bother correcting him.

“I guess that’s fine…” Callum finally concedes.

Rayla latches on to his words, “Right! I’m fine-”

Callum cuts her off with a loud sigh, “I wish you’d stop saying that, but I guess I can’t stop you if you’re determined to go to this meeting. Take care of yourself, okay?” He tenderly holds her face in his hands as he puts his other hand on her forearm to help her to her feet. His eyes shine with sadness and imploring.

“I promise,” she consoles, putting her hand on top of his as she leans into his grasp.

Their moment is cut short when Soren gags performatively. “Ugh! Gross, get a room!”

Callum rolls his eyes as she giggles. He turns back to her and repeats, “Take care of yourself.”

“I will. See you soon.” Callum nods in satisfaction before turning and walking towards his office.

They watch him go silently. Rayla wants him to feel as awkward as possible so her chances of getting a truthful answer out of him are increased.

“What the hell was that , Soren?” He tenses like he’s a child that’s been caught doing something wrong. She’s not actually sure what exactly he did, just that she’s mad at him for keeping secrets.

“Language. And I’m pretty sure that was the most disgusting and shameless PDA I’ve ever see-”

“Not me and Callum, dummy! The whole ‘defending me’ thing. Why’d you step in for me ? We aren’t friends.” He looks hurt at the perfectly factual statement. They aren’t friends. She spends most of her with him carefully dancing around the memory of what had happened at the Moon Nexus. Friends don’t do that. 

He looks at her intently, trying to find if she’s joking with him. He finds what he needs and looks down sadly. Like he doesn’t have an angle. Like he isn’t trying to do something with her.

Everytime she thinks she understands what Soren wants, he does something completely mystifying.

She needs to identify the threat.

And neutralize it.

Soren stills, considering her words and weighing his response. He finally says, “I just really need help with the ACC,” he settles on.

Rayla gives him her best unimpressed face. It’s obvious there’s something else, and she swears on her honor she’ll get it out of him somehow. She decides to let him get away with it for the time being, and tries to convey her anger at him in her walk as she head’s towards the ACC’s meeting room.

She prepares herself for a long, long meeting.

Some of the members of the Committee are well intentioned yet misguided. 

Others are just plain old assholes.

He starts jogging ahead of her, a bright smile on his face. He’s counting his steps under his breath. She has no idea where he gets his energy from. It’s too early to be recreationally jogging.

Maybe he’s just trying to avoid her.

But hearts are breaking, and wars are raging on 

And I have taken 

My glasses off

She quickly arrives at the meeting room, struggling for a moment to open the ridiculously heavy doors. She glares at her arms with as much hatred as she can muster so early in the morning. She’s been getting weaker lately. It’s awful. Soren had switched to lunges and didn’t speed up to help her.

“A little help here, muscles?” she swallows her pride to ask.

“Sorry, but breaking up your rhythm is bad for your exercise habits,” he grunts out. She didn’t know if that was true but she didn’t feel like arguing with him. Maybe he just likes to see her struggle. If so, that’s another point in the ‘Soren is secretly evil’ tally.

After finally getting the door open, she was met with the assembled ACC, who all turned to look at her silently. It was a very unpleasant few seconds before Soren caught up to her and cheerfully greeted them.

“Top of the morning to you all! Today’s gonna be so productive, I can feel it in my powerful biceps! Trust the biceps, I tell ya,” he nodded sagely, like he had said something very deep and moving. She mentally puts another point in the column labeled ‘Soren is just a really conspicuous idiot’

“Good morning, Crownguard Soren,” Aeden sounds more tired than she feels, if that’s possible.

The four other members all sound off with their morning greetings, some more cheerful than the others.

“Let’s begin with the first item on the docket: the food planned for the second night of the Harvest Festival, which will be served to the emissaries in their rooms to give them time to discuss among themselves, as suggested by Kyra last meeting…” Aeden had the kind of voice and way of speaking that bored one immediately. 

Only her previous experience with long, monotonous tangents (thanks, Runaan) kept her listening to Aeden’s completely pointless recount of the previous meeting, which had happened literally the day before.

Moon and Stars, she needed a drink. And she’d never even had one (thanks, Runaan).

“And now we discuss how much food will need to be prepared, where we will source the ingredients from, and when it should be served, for each party visiting from Xadia. Any suggestions?” Aeden finishes.

“I think we should include some alcohol, wine at the very least, so we can show them the talent of our brewers,” Kyra starts. She is one of the only committee members that Rayla thinks is actually acting out of good intentions. 

Her bright blue eyes filled with optimism remind her of Ezran, so she can see why he put her on this assignment. The others were clearly appointed because they’d be offended if they weren’t.

“Amazing idea, Miss Fletcher, if not quite naive. What makes you think the elves will have any appreciation for the creations of humanity? They may be offended if we serve them something their refined palates do not agree with,” says Patrobus. His constantly twitching nose serves to make him resemble on the outside the rat he is on the inside.

“Those elven bastards will drink our wine and they’ll like it! It’s gotta be better than whatever bottom shelf swill they’re drinking in their forest hovels…” Johanan mutters. He’s the oldest and worst one in the room. He’s also Rayla’s least favorite. 

“That brings me to another point,” Kyra butts in, “I believe we put ‘hovels’ on the list of forbidden words for the visit-”

“Bah! Back in my day we said what we wanted without censorship, and we didn’t interrupt our elders! We had respect for the traditional ways of life…” He then turns to her and narrows his eyes suspiciously. She really hates Johanan.

Rayla places her forehead in her hands, narrowly avoiding the urge to groan in dismay.

“Maybe we should get back on topic…” Soren hesitantly suggests.

Johanan makes a sort of rumbling noise and looks away from her grumpily. That’s one member pacified for now. She returns her hands to the table.

“Yes, well… let’s discuss the best kind of alcohol to provide them with. We have many vineyards and breweries close to or within Katolis City, and some will be offended if we don’t include them,” Aeden says.

“I believe Kelpie Vineyards wine would be the best choice…” Kyra responds, and then Rayla zones out. She wants to spend as little time as possible paying attention to this meeting, so she’ll take all the thinking time she can while the conversation’s on something she knows absolutely nothing about.

“What kind of alcohol do you remember Moonshadows drinking, Rayla?” Soren’s voice cuts through the brain fog she was stewing in.

She recovers quickly, “I wouldn’t know. I’m not old enough to drink by elven standards…” she trails off. The humans give her strange looks. She returns them in kind, not knowing what the big deal was.

“I would have thought you’d all been drinking from nearly birth, Lady Rayla” taunts Matthias, who up to this point had been watching silently with amusement.

“I would have thought you’d have realized that common stereotypes don’t translate to reality, Sir Matthias.” She tries to keep any animosity out of her voice. She really does. It’s not her fault that he technically ranks lower than her and his title comes out strained in her accent. Totally not on purpose.

“Alright, to bring the conversation back to wineries-”

“Miss Fletcher, I’d like to keep speaking on this matter,” Matthias’ oily voice grates on her ears as he considers her,

“Uh- I’m not sure why-”

“Lady Rayla, how old are you?” He cuts Kyra off again.

“Sixteen.” She stares back at him in an attempt to make him uncomfortable. It doesn’t work. He seems to be enjoying the confrontation more than before, if anything.

“Quite young… right?”

“I guess?” She doesn’t like how her voice sounds hesitant. She needs to stand firm and not give him an inch of ground. She needs to handle him alone. She needs to be strong.

“And so close to the royal family, already…” His eyes wander further down. Imaginary spiders crawl down her back.

“What are you getting at, Sir Matthias?” She does what her instincts tell her to: cut right to the point.

“I wouldn’t mind if you got close to me like you did the Princ-”

She blushes furiously as various protests explose from the other ACC members.

“Really, Matthias? You don’t see anything wrong with that?” Surprisingly, Soren’s words are the ones she focuses on. She’s still mad at him, though.

“What? We were all thinking it! Why else would the King put a monster like her on this sham of a committee?” He smirks in the way only rich people with inflated egos can.

Now it’s the other member’s faces that turn red, but now in anger. Matthias only seems to realize that he’s insulted everyone in the room after a couple seconds of charged silence.

“Matthias, did you serve at the battle of the Storm Spire?” Soren says with barely restrained rage. 

“No, Crownguard, I was on vacation in Neolandia at the time-”

“Then you have no idea what Lady Rayla’s done for this country.” Soren interrupts him firmly. “Let’s continue this meeting tomorrow. We’re clearly not ready to be productive right now.” He looks like he’s ready to punch someone.

“But sir, this is an urgent matter,” Aeden seems more stressed at the collapsing schedule than the fight that had nearly broken out.

“No, it’s not. It’s really not.” Then he stands up and grabs Rayla’s arm before charging out of the room.

She’s so stunned she takes a while to rip her wrist out of his grip.

“What the hell?” She questions no one in particular.

“I think you just got hit on,” Soren says gently. Like she didn’t remember what happened not five minutes prior. Like she was weak. 

“No, I got that part. Why’d you get all dark and stormy, though? Like I said before, we aren’t friends. And I could’ve handled that guy myself.” She raises an eyebrow at him and makes intense eye contact, which he shrinks under.

“I just… don’t like bullies…” He actually taps his fingers together guilty. Like a child being caught eating too much Moonshadow surprise. She adds another point to ‘conspicuous idiot’.

“I can take care of myself! I don’t need you to help me.” She jabs her finger into his chestplate.

“I wasn’t trying to undermine you or anything! I just didn’t think Matthias would listen to you… so I just jumped in! I thought I was helping…” He raises his hands in a placating gesture. Her eyes widen in offense. He was basically a stranger to her. How dare he try to protect her!?

His face is in that familiar pitying look. Like he’s better than her. Like he’s more capable than her.

“I don’t need you to make people listen to me! I’m fine. I can handle myself, stay in your lane, Crownguard.” She turns away from him and storms off.

Before she leaves the random hallway they’re in, he calls out, “Wait!” She gives him one last chance to wipe that superior look off his face.

When she turns to look back at him, his eyes are filled with sadness. She opens the door and doesn’t look back again.

You got me nervous 

I'm right at the end of my rope

She goes to that familiar perch on the tower to avoid everyone, as she has been doing at every minor inconvenience she’s met with thus far. She stays there for most of the day undisturbed, absently reading some tome or another as she ruminates on her horrendous position.

She feels helpless. How’d she end up here? Why can’t she do anything? Why can’t she figure out what Soren wants from her? Why did she overreact to everything? Why was she…

So…

Pathetic ?

She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her head on them. She doesn’t want anyone to see her like this, on the off chance that someone stumbles into her little ‘sad-time corner’ as Callum had dubbed it after he had found her crying here more than a few times. It’s woeful how many hours she’s spent crying since coming to Katolis. She hopes no one but Callum has noticed. She doesn’t want everyone to think she’s weaker than they already do.

Her nearly nightly freak-outs come to mind. She pushes her multiple talks with Soren away. 

It’s obvious to her now that he wants something from her. Why else would he be so invested in her personal problems? He’s probably planning to do something awful to her once she let’s her guard down…

Her thoughts were all over the place and she didn’t like it. She wanted to feel normal again, whatever normal felt like. Why couldn’t she just deal? The way she’d been taught to when confronted with stressing scenarios.

‘That’s right…’ she thought, ‘I just need to deal’. 

She nods to herself. Yes. That’s what she’ll do. No more sad-time. Now it’s deal-with-it-time.

Everything sucks? Deal with it. Everyone hates you? Deal with it! 

Soren is suspicious… confront him about it?

‘Yeah,’ she assures herself, ‘that makes sense. Good job, Rayla!’

She stands and shakes her limbs out. It’s dinner time, and she’s expected to be at dinner. Which is totally fine. She’s fine with it, really.

A half empty girl 

Don't make me laugh 

I'll choke

Before she knows it she’s before the giant doors to the dining room. Great. More stupid, big doors.

Luckily the doors burst open before her before she can embarrass herself by struggling too much. 

“I’m gonna go find he-” Callum is looking behind him as he walks out the room, unfortunately not noticing her fast enough to avoid walking right into her.

His legs falter as his weight takes them both down. Luckily she knows how to fall to avoid injuries. He ends up on top of her, holding himself off her by the elbows. She groans in pain, even though she’d had worse.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi!” she giggles.

“Oooh~ someone’s in looOOove…” calls a voice from the dining room, which makes her redden and she attempts to stand up as quickly as she can. 

Callum rolls off her and climbs to his feet. She’s slower than usual, which is aggravating. He reaches his hand out to help her up, which she grudgingly accepts with a scoff.

“Shut up, Ez.” He’s blushing from his neck to the tips of his (adorably small) ears, she notices distantly.

She hides her smile behind her hand as the assembled people in the room turn to look at the commotion. There’s more than the usual guards and council members. It looks like some of the Harvest Festival visitors are dining with the King. Lovely.

Callum is still holding her hand, which feels more embarrassing now that strangers are staring at her in what she can only describe as ‘revulsion’. Her muscles tighten in a recognizable preparation for a fight. She calms herself, but doesn’t let up her guard. She doesn’t like these people.

They find their way to their neighboring seats as Ezran and Callum tease each other back and forth.

She observes the four newcomers. There’s a middle aged man and woman, along with (presumably) their children, a young man and a teenage girl. They all have an air of regality surrounding them, exaggerated by their fancy clothes and well-cared for black hair.

“Rayla, this is Duke Malachai and Duchess Settenia of Marcester, and their children: Micha and Melea. They’ve come here from the north of Katolis, right along the border!” Ez says cheerfully.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Graces, My Lord, My Lady,” she nods respectfully to them.

“You as well, My Lady,” Settenia responds. She does not incline her head, instead narrowing her eyes at her coldly.

“Well… now that we found you we can start eating!” Ez exclaims. She shifts her focus to him. Something’s off. His shoulders are tight and his eyes are downcast. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She wants to ask him about it, but doesn’t want to make him seem weak while the nobles are watching.

He claps his hands twice and various servants pour out of the kitchens with food on trays. She’ll never get used to being waited on, she swears. It makes her antsy. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me to start eating, Your Majesty,” she says as formally as she can. Callum gives her a strange look from over his water goblet. She tries to placate him with a pleasant smile, which she can tell doesn’t work.

“Yes, he doesn’t have to.” Malachai repeats callously. 

“I want to make sure you’re eating enough!” Ez ignores the Duke, responding only to her. It rubs her the wrong way. It’s unlike Ez to ignore anyone, even after an admittedly strange remark.

“That’s kind of you, Your Majesty, but I’m fine,” she soothes. She hears a tired sigh, but can’t tell who it comes from.

“His Majesty is exceptionally kind, must be genetic!” Melea compliments.

Ezran and Callum force good-natured laughs. At least she’s not the only one unnerved by this family. Callum is suddenly very interested in his drink. Ezran fiddles with Bait in his lap. For a moment the only sounds are silverware on plates and chewing.

“So, how’d you end up in Katolis?” asks Micah.

She nearly chokes on her food as she inhales too fast. Callum pats her back to help her dispel her coughs. She hopes someone will take the attention off her before she has to speak again, but no one seems particularly eager to.

“Ahem. It’s a… very er-complicated situation…” she says, very convincingly.

“I would like to know, too. It sounds like an interesting story,” Malachai voices.

“Errrr… not really. I was fighting for Xadia, then… I was fighting for peace.” Rayla chooses her words carefully.

Callum places a hand over hers in support, causing her to look up from her food to meet his eyes. She hadn’t even realized she was sinking into herself before he brought her back. She smiles brightly at him. How could he be so amazing?

Settenia clears her throat. She pulls her hand back into her lap. He looks hurt, but it’s better this way. It wouldn’t do to be so lovey-dovey in polite company.

“Apologies,” the Duchess says, “something went down the wrong pipe.” She smiles, but her eyes don’t leave Rayla. Ezran nods as his eyes swiftly shift between the two women.

“Anyways, what did you mean by ‘fighting for peace’? Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Micah questions her. His eyes are far more outwardly suspicious than his parents. He sets her on edge. He reminds her of Matthias.

“Not in my view… Sometimes peace must be fought for. The cycle of violence must be fought, is what I mean. To break away from the norm takes work. Believing in a brighter future is difficult if all anyone wants to see is darkness. ” She surprises herself with her words. A poet laureate, she is not. She guesses she’s picked up some dramatic speech skills from King Friends-with-dragons and Sad Prince.

“Those are very wise words, My Lady.” Melea’s smile seems to be the only genuine one in the room. Rayla decides she likes the Lady more than the rest of her family.

“Yes… though quite idealistic,” Settenia jokes.

“I’m flattered, Your Grace.” Then the conversation lapses again as they focus on eating. Rayla feels as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She feels like she’s finally gotten one over on someone.

The rest of the meal passes with mundane small talk. Opeli seems happy that Rayla is no longer in danger of upsetting the Duke and Duchess. Soren had said so little that she legitimately forgot he was sitting with them. 

She’s glad no one tries to speak with her, because it gives her a good chance to study him when he’s not pretending to be worried about her.

He’s aware of her gaze, which is not ideal, but she’s so rarely around him while not in an emotionally vulnerable state that it’s still useful. From what she can tell, he’s fairly well-behaved for someone raised in the court his whole life. He addresses the Marcesters with respect when they ask him a question about his work, and cracks the occasional inoffensive pun.

She goes over what he could want in her mind. Power? She doesn’t have any. Becoming closer to the royals? He’s already a Crownguard. 

Maybe he’s working for a foreign power that wants her out of the way. Or even a domestic one. She’s sure plenty of people are appalled at her presence at the Crown Prince’s side. The ruder ACC members come to mind, and seemingly the Duke and Duchess as well.

They finish up dinner peacefully. Opeli keeps them distracted with talk of trade between Katolis City and their Dukedom’s capitol, Trileone. 

They switch to a more casual setting so Opeli can get her fill of diplomacy. They’re all seated at low couches enjoying either alcohol or tea. She desperately wants to go to bed even though she knows she won’t be getting any sleep. 

She ducks out  and stays in the restroom as long as she can without making them think she has some kind of disease. She just wants to cuddle with Callum without four strangers judging her, is that too much to ask?

She returns to the room as inconspicuous as she can, taking up her seat at Callum’s side. She takes a sip of her tea to calm her nerves. It’s bitter, more bitter than usual. Maybe she’es just so stressed she’s imagining things.

“Now, Your Majesty, I don’t wish to be presumptuous, but if we could discuss the proposition we brought to you earlier today…” She’s distracted as Settenia places her teacup on its saucer with a loud clack .

The Marcesters all sit up straighter and put their drinks down. She tenses in turn, preparing herself for whatever discussion requires the King’s attention enough to be brought up twice in one day.

Ezran grimaces. “Rayla, maybe you should get some sleep.”

“What?” She asks, wondering if she heard him right.

“You should catch up on some sleep,” he insists.

“No,” Soren breaks his silence. “Respectfully, King Ezran, she deserves to hear this.” He looks meaningfully to his king, then to the Duchess with suspicious eyes.

“What do I deserve to hear?” She demands. She looks to Callum to see if he knows what’s going on, but he seems just as lost as her.

The Duke clears his throat. “We’ve proposed that Prince Callum and Melea be wed.”

Just let me cry a little bit longer 

I ain't gon' smile if I don't want to

Chapter Text

Hey, man, we all can't be like you 

I wish we were all rose-colored too

Rayla takes a shuddering breath. She feels like the wind’s been knocked out of her. A marriage proposal? The thought makes her ill, imagining Callum and this stranger marrying… Callum leaving her behind. Callum hugging and kissing another girl. Callum moving to Marcester with his new bride…

She’d be all alone. 

Her eyes start to blur with unshed tears, but she swallows her sudden rush of emotion. She can’t imagine how embarrassing it would be to cry in front of all these people.

She looks in bewilderment to Callum, seeking an explanation, but he seems just as baffled as her. She looks to Ezran, who is scowling at his lap. He senses her eyes on him and meets her gaze with an apologetic grimace, his eyes say ‘I tried to warn you’. 

“I already told you, Callum will not be given away in an arranged marriage.” Ezran hardens his voice beyond his years, draws his posture up to make himself taller.

“You haven’t given us a sensible reason as to your rejection, Your Majesty, forgive us if we seem persistent, but we do not understand how you could deny such a promising match,” Settenia consoles.

Rayla’s befuddled expression melts into a deep glare. The nobles take no notice of her animosity. “Perhaps if we could understand your position, Your Majesty, we would be more willing to let the issue rest.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. The answer is no, period.” Ezran slams his hands on the table in front of him. The china clinks and some tea spills onto the tablecloth.

Rayla grabs a napkin to dab it up in the uncomfortable quiet. Her breath sounds too loud to her. The Marcester’s are all glaring at her, to which she shrinks into herself, then forces her shoulders to square. She won’t be intimated.

“Could it be…” Micah drawls, ”that His Highness is already intended for another?”

The silence speaks volumes. Ezran and Callum are desperately exchanging panicked looks, which doesn’t help anything.

She closes her eyes briefly and draws in air through her nose, trying to calm herself. She feels shaky, despite herself.

“Callum and I are in a relationship, yes.” She tries to project the same air of regalness the others in the room possess. Her shoulders are back and her spine is straight, but she isn’t sure if the illusion has worked.

“Why?” Melea’s voice is very quiet and high, almost a whisper.

She locks eyes with Callum, silently asking him to explain it in words she can’t. He’s always been better at expressing emotions than her.

“We’re in love,” he states simply.

Settenia narrows her eyes. “Sentiment has no place in governance. Your Majesty,” She lifts an accusing finger at Rayla, “You would choose an alliance with Xadia over your own Duchy?” It’s phrased as a question but spoken like an accusation. 

“Rayla has nothing to do with an allian-”

“Nonsense! Do not presume that because we owe you respect we will blindly follow your excuses! She’s obviously a spy, Your Majesty, you cannot allow this monster to infiltrate your court any further!” 

And they are all silent again. Her hands are shaking so she hides them in her lap. She’s sure her eyes are wide and distraught. Callum reaches over and places one of his own on hers. She looks into his eyes and he tells her ‘it’s okay,’ with a reassuring smile.

“Rayla is no spy,” He states firmly, “And she is not a monster.”

Her lips form a small, shy smile. She’s not sure she’ll be able to say anything to her defense better than that, so she stays quiet.

“Your Highness-” Malachai tries to intervene.

“I think it’s time you leave.” Callum interrupts him.

Malachai’s nostrils flare in indignation. “Your Majesty…” he turns to Ez, who raises his eyebrows without saying anything. He clears his throat awkwardly, then says “Well. It seems we’re not welcome here.” He stands, “Come, children. Settenia.”

They shuffle out under the glares of Ezran and Callum. With less people to observe she notes Soren’s reaction, which is mostly a glare of resentment to the Marcester’s backs as they leave. He still has the false pity in his eyes, which annoys her. Maybe he was looking to get closer to her during dinner and missed his chance or something.

She shakes her head to force the thoughts away. She feels… weird is probably the best way to put it. Her hands are still shaking. Her eyes are moistening. Her throat is dry. 

Her skin sits on her flesh incorrectly.

“What an asshole,” Callum breaks the silence.

“Language,” Soren chides.

Ezran sighs very loudly in frustration. “Sorry about that, Rayla… I tried to get them to leave during our audience but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

She’s a little mad that he had tried to get her to leave the conversation, but his eyes are so full of guilt that she forgives him on the spot.

“It’s alright, Ez. I understand.” She tightens her grip on Callum’s hand. “I’m fine.”

Soren’s scowl deepens. “I wish you would stop saying that…” he mumbles.

She glowers at him. “I don’t need your concern .”

Callum looks confused. “Why the hostility? Soren’s just trying to help-”

“I don’t care what he’s trying to do! He’s not my friend, he has no right to be all up in my business the way he always is.” She nearly hisses the last few words. She hadn’t meant to say that much out loud. She blames her shaky state. Her tongue is heavy in her mouth. Her head pounds with a newly developing headache.

“Hey, woah! Where’d that come from?” She avoids his searching gaze. Callum puts his other hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look in his eyes. She rolls them as she shrugs him off.

“He was interfering while I was talking with this ACC member-”

“He insulted her and I told him to knock it off.” Soren counters. 

“I was handling it-”

“She was not ,” He insists. “Seriously, you have to kick Matthias off the ACC.”

She takes a deep, calming breath. “It was fine.”

“You really need to stop saying that when it’s not true.”

She stands up so she can loom over him. Her knees almost buckle under her and her vision goes black for a moment. She keeps her composure to press a finger to his chest. “What right does a traitor’s son like you-”

“Okay! I think we all need to cool down.” Ezran throws his hands up. “Callum, go somewhere with Rayla. I’ll get what happened from Soren and you get it from her, and we’ll see if we can clear up any miscommunications that happened.” In that moment, he seemed much more like the king he was than the young friend she usually saw.

She begrudgingly nods. Soren mimics her.

Callum takes her hand and leads her away. Her vision sways. Her head is down in shame as they walk. The tears in her eyes cause the sight of her feet to blur and double. 

They hurt. Her feet and her eyes. Her head is pounding still. It makes her feel sluggish and weak .

I wish we were all rose-colored too

My rose-colored boy

Soren is very, very tired. Dealing with a grumpy Rayla was probably the most unpleasant thing he’s done recently, which included stabbing the illusion of his evil father. She was too perceptive of others for how blind she was of herself. Her insults cut right to the bone.

But he doesn’t mind. Really , he doesn’t. 

She clearly has a lot of issues going on, and considering what he’s learned about her past from Callum and simple observation… he can take a few insults. Not to mention all she’d done to help the royal siblings and Katolis as a whole. 

He could be hurt if it meant it’d help her stop hurting.

“Alright,” his King starts, “What happened?”

He breathes in, out, hesitates. He’s not sure if it’s okay to tell King Ezran about Rayla’s personal stuff. After a second of King Ezran staring expectantly at him, he decides it’s alright. It’s for her own good, he figures.

“You know Sir Matthias? He’s on the ACC, he gave Rayla a hard time, so I shut him down.” He scowls at just the thought of Matthias’ awful words. He wishes he wasn’t important so he could’ve punched the knight in the face.

The King places a hand over his mouth and looks down in consideration. “So, she’s mad that you care about her?” 

Soren shakes his head, then pauses, then nods. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Your Majesty, but Rayla doesn’t like seeming weak. I think it’s a cultural thing, but maybe she’s just weird.”

He doesn’t know if weird is the right word to describe Rayla. She’s perfectly normal, by most accounts. An insecure teenage girl with anxiety over relationships? That’s so routine to him it’s almost normal. It’s just sad that he’s known so many people with the same root problems.

It’s sad how deeply the wounds of a neglectful parent can cut.

The King considers this. “Yes, I’ve noticed… she’s been trying to distance herself from us, hasn’t she?”

Soren nods in agreement. “I’m worried about her. Most of the people in the castle either hate her or are scared of her. She only talks to you and Callum. She keeps saying she’s fine when she isn’t .”

He thinks of a maid, Selah, who had come to him one night, shaking from fear, asking if the King and Prince had been enchanted by an elven spy. She had genuinely feared for her country and people, but it still boiled his blood that everyone hated Rayla so much, despite all the reassurance King Ezran had given people that Rayla was a friend.

He checks himself. He had hated her for being an elf at first too. Everyone needs time to get used to her, but it still feels very unfair that she’s so alone.

He couldn’t imagine what only having two close friends would feel like. What it would feel like to constantly have judging eyes on him. 

For how much his life has sucked so far, he’s always had the people around him to count on. His fellow soldiers, Callum and Ezran…

Claudia .

Ezran nods. “Yeah. Maybe Callum and I should talk to the servants more, to clear up their fear, hopefully. And!” he adds suddenly, “I will definitely tell Matthias to go on a vacation somewhere else. I don’t want people to start thinking it’s okay to insult Rayla.”

Soren agrees, “Smart decision.” A shame he won’t get to punch Matthias in private, though.

“Should we go see what Rayla thinks, then?”

I want you to stop insisting that I'm not 

A lost cause, 'cause I've been through a lot

Callum takes her to the top of her Brooding Tower. She plops herself down on the cushions gratefully. The day has been so long, she wishes she could melt into the pillows and never get up again.

Callum sits down more carefully than her. His face is careful, too. Completely neutral on the surface, but with a simmering sadness in his gaze.

He sighs, “I’m worried about you.”

“I know, you made that clear this morning.”

He sighs again, “Not just the vomiting thing, which is very bad! But,” he pauses, “I’m talking more about how you won’t talk to me. About what’s bothering you, I mean.”

She startles. She hadn’t meant to cut him out. She thinks about Lujanne, and her three ex-husbands. She shudders to imagine herself as a shut-in old hag living on top of a mountain.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…” She doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain herself. Callum’s always been better with words.

“It’s alright. You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.” His kind eyes meet hers as he gingerly lifts her chin with a hand on her chin. She could get lost in his eyes. They were so much different than anything else she’d seen. 

“Big feelings time?” She jokes. She’s hoping to cut the tension, but he just nods in acknowledgement.

He draws her in with affection and attentiveness, then she’s ensnared by the deep melancholy. The same sadness inside of her. Inside, they are the same. It’s as comforting as it is unsettling.

The loss of so many people has shaped them. There’s matching holes in their hearts from the grief. There’s matching smiles on their faces as they deal with other problems first.

“I… Err, the ACC in general isn’t the most accepting group in the Human Lands.” She answers lamely.

His loving gaze tells her to continue. “Most of them either think I’m a forest-dwelling moron or some kind of whore.” 

Callum’s nose wrinkles at the word. He doesn’t say anything, though, giving her the time to collect her next words.

“I don’t know why Soren cares so much, it was a pretty benign insult, honestly. He said I was a… monster .” She doesn’t mention the pass Matthias had made at her.

He scowls deeply, finally dropping the calm expression. They both know the baggage attached to that particular word.

“I’m sorry, Rayla, I wish people would be more respectful. I wish you didn’t have to deal with any of this.”

She smiles despite her gathering tears. He’s so understanding it hurts. Also her head still hurts, so between that and the awful say she’s had, maybe she’s going insane.

Her smile fades as she continues, “Soren told Matthias to get stuffed before I could, then ended the meeting early. In kinder words, obviously.” She remembers the eve of Callum’s birthday, when he had insulted her parents. She thinks that it makes sense for a manipulator to change his language drastically based on who he’s around, but it’s a far reach. Everyone does that, it’s not the most suspicious thing he’s done.

“I’m fine, I really am. I swear. I can handle it. It’s not any worse than assassin training.”

Callum doesn’t laugh at her joke again, which sits wrong in her stomach. It’s just not right to speak so seriously without disguising your hurt with lighter words.

Never show weakness. Never show anyone the deep scars on your psyche. Never show the people you love what’s wrong with you. It’s basic logic, honestly. Lies, illusions, they’re what you use to keep your advantage. They’re what you use to shield the real you from your enemies. Callum has broken through most of her walls, but she’s not ready to bare her whole soul to him yet.

It’s wrong how much she wants to drop all pretenses around him, nearly heretical to all she’s ever known. To let someone in, to let them see the ugliness inside, it’s the most intimate thing she can think of, even more than what they’d done together on Callum’s birthday…

She feels naked as he watches her without judgment. His eyes are so enchanting. She wants him to stop looking at her. She wants everyone to stop looking at her. She wants to be alone just as desperately as she wants to hold on tight.

She doesn’t understand her own desires. She feels split in two down the middle, baring her guts and viscera, begging to be stabbed in the back, practically.

It doesn’t make sense how much she loves him. ‘ A miracle ’, she thinks deliriously.

She takes a shuddering breath as she lets her eyes drift closed. She lets the tension drain out of her body. She lets her walls come down. 

She lets him in.

“I’m… so lonely, Callum. It’s so lonely.” She finally lets the tears roll down her face. She’s tired. So tired of being seen. Of being misunderstood. Of being judged. Of being weak .

It hurts less than she thought it would, to let all the pretenses fall away, to melt into the hug Callum pulls her into. To let the tears fall without even trying to keep them in, to let the sobs escape. 

It feels like healing, to let it all out. She hasn’t done this since she was a snotty little kid. Hasn’t let anyone hold her close as she breaks down. 

She feels vaguely like she’s floating, her body is separate from her mind, she knows. The soul had been a hot topic for Moonshadow philosophers and intellectuals, what with their obsession with life and death and all. It hurts less to think of home when Callum is holding her.

She doesn’t know how long he holds her, immobile, as she bawls. She’s floating in a sea of misery, draining out of her one tear at a time. Once, Callum had told her that he was a sail, like the rest of the world. She hopes that if she has to be on an imaginary boat, he would be with her. 

She wants to be with him, always.

Really all I've got is just to stay pissed off 

If it's all right by you

By the time Ez and Soren find them, her tears have dried a little. She’s doing the annoying unwitting breath thing, so she hopes Callum’s not too put off by the huffing and puffing.

“Is it a bad time?” Ez asks hesitantly.

She laughs wetly. “Yeah, but can you stay anyways?”

He smiles so brightly, she thinks it sunburns her eyes. He’s too innocent and good for the work that’s been thrust onto him.

She’s not so sure she wants Soren there, but it would be too awkward to tell him to piss off, so she lets it be.

The two take seats carefully distant from the tangled mass she and Callum had melted into the longer she’d cried. Her skin tingles from numbness, so she can’t even tell where she ends and he begins. It’s not an awful feeling.

“Soo… anything you want to say to us?” Soren asks.

She considers insulting him again, but decides if she’s doing the whole emotionally vulnerable thing, she might as well air out all her grievances with him.

“What do you want from me?” It comes out way fainter than she intended, the tone grates on her ears. 

“I don’t want anything from you. I want stuff for you.” He stresses.

“I don’t understand.” 

“I know. It’s okay, you don’t have to. Just listen for a sec, okay?”

She nods.

“Obviously you’re very messed up inside,” he gestures in her general direction. This, she understands. She does feel very messed up.

“I can relate to that. I think you already know that my dad’s kinda messed up, himself. He messed me up, too, which I’m new to seeing and getting around to fixing.” He takes a deep breath, “I want for you what I want for myself, to be happier. More content. More capable of talking about-” he waves his hand “- weepy feelings. I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea or something. I swear I just want you to get better .”

It doesn’t make sense . 

He doesn’t make sense.

Why would he want her to get better ? 

She’s not going to get better. She’s so messed up it’s buried somewhere deep in her bones. It’s a hopeless fight, if he had any brain in the space between his ears, he’s recognize that.

‘ It’s never going to get better ’, she thinks, ‘they’re never going to see me as I am .’

“But why?” she voices, if only to hear what insanity he’s functioning on. “I’m… a monster,” she whispers.

The resulting avalanche of objections hurt her eardrums. The words are so garbled she understands none of it.

She doesn’t mean it in the way the other three take it. She means that he should see her as a monster, like what all the other humans (barring Callum and Ezran) saw her as. Like what Matthias and Malachai had said aloud, like what most of the inhabitants of the castle would call her if she wasn’t friends with their Kind and Crown Prince.

She doesn’t know if she feels like a monster. She feels guilt when she looks at her hands, though, when she feels the pain in her wrist from the phantom binding. 

The hands of an assassin and the matching injury. Hands that could’ve one day been stained with blood had she not happened upon Zym’s egg. A wrist that would’ve been indifferent to the agony it caused. She shudders to imagine the future that had been laid before her, miraculously disrupted by fate.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” she says lamely.

“You’re not a monster, Rayla! You’re so far from it that it’s almost funny you think that.” Callum’s intense expression bores into her as he grips her shoulders tightly.

“Does it matter if I’m not?” She mutters mostly to herself. She’s so close to Callum that he hears her anyway.

“I mean… it doesn’t matter what I am or what you think I am. What matters is what they all think of me. They think I’m an evil spy sleeping my way to the top. They think I’m a monster who’s going to destroy Katolis from the inside out. How do I deal with that?” She hadn’t meant that as a rhetorical question. She wanted someone to tell her what to do. She’d do anything if it meant no one would see her as a monster. The resulting lull isn’t super reassuring. 

Her head throbs. Her hands are still shaky. Her future isn’t looking too good.

Soren taps his chin and sticks his tongue out in concentration, presumably thinking deeply. “I guess you just have to be patient,” he finally resolves.

“That’s not encouraging.” She deadpans, but decides to not push the issue further. She’s tired.

“You’re not in an encouraging situation,” he shrugs.

“Have some tact, Soren,” Callum chides.

“You know I never have that, step-prince,” Soren teases in turn.

Callum turns red from anger (or maybe embarrassment), which she would usually find adorable, but she’s a bit preoccupied with a sudden all-encompassing existential dread.

She groans pitifully and presses her face into Callum’s shoulder. What the hell is she going to do?

Callum pats her head between her horns soothingly. 

“The Harvest Festival should help with the reputation problem,” Ezran pipes up. “All the visitors are going to be on their best behavior, so everyone should start seeing elves in a different light. It won’t be a very different light, more like a dark blue versus a light blue. But it’ll be a start. I think.” 

“I wouldn’t count on the Moonshadow ambassadors being anything other than standard Moonshadows.” She grumbles into Callum’s shirt.

“Whaddya mean?” Callum’s hand stops petting her hair (unfortunately). He takes his hand away as she sits up to face the others.

“I mean I’m pretty weird by Moonshadow standards. Everyone thought I was too soft and avoided me for most of my life,” She explains. The humans all look at her in pure bewilderment, which confuses her in turn.

“I liked animals more than other kids… and dessert,” she pronounces slowly. They still look confused, so she moves on.

“They ambassadors will be picked by the Moonshadow Senate, which tends to be even more conservative than the general populace. They probably only agreed to show up because Lux Aurean officials are going to be here too, and they hate being shown up by Lux Aurea. Moon/Sun rivalry, I guess.”

“Isn’t Lux Aurea a giant city covered in gold?” Ezran scrunches his nose, “Or, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah but Moonshadows aren’t supposed to care about material luxuries, so they compete in other ways. Sports and animal rearing, stuff like that.”

“I guess that makes sense… what were you saying about a senate?”

She sighs. “The way the Forest is governed is semi-democratic. Every township gets a council staffed by the leaders of the local guilds, like Commerce and Artisans. Every council votes on a representative of the town to go to the Senate to decide on overarching issues. Like international treaties. Because the Senators are chosen by guildmasters, who represent more old-fashioned aspects of life, the Senate is way more traditional than your average villager.”

It’s quiet for a second as they process her words. “This… would’ve been helpful to know for the ACC,” Soren responds.

“It would’ve been,” she agrees, “But it was never a good time to bring up the finer details of Moonshadow politics with them.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees.

“So,” Callum interjects, “the ambassadors are only going to be trying to out-do the Sunfires?”

She nods, “That’s my guess, anyways.”

He sucks air in through his teeth. “Yikes, We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“Yep,” she adds, very helpfully.

He runs his fingers through his fringe. “I guess we’ve gotta get planning then.”

“What for?” She questions, “You’re not gonna change their minds in one week. Among other things, we Moonshadows are known for being stubborn.”

“So that’s not just you being difficult?” Callum smirks at her.

She smacks him playfully, “‘Course not, dummy. Why’d you think none of the other assassins stopped trying to kill Ez after they saw the egg? Once we get going, we never stop,” She explains. They need to keep their expectations low or they’re setting themselves up for disappointment. “I doubt a peace treaty’s gonna happen. If anything, they’ll probably try to go to war so they look more patriotic than Lux Aurea.”

Ezran hmm s thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll just have to be more stubborn for peace then!” He smacks a fist against an open palm. It’s almost adorable how naive he is, but mostly it’s depressing.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Ez. I want peace, too, but it’s just not possible right now.”

“We’ll make it possible!” he counters. “We’ve done the impossible before, we can do it again!”

“Ez…”

“I mean, just look around! A human king, his heir, and his bodyguard are hanging out with a Moonshadow assassin and taking her advice. If that can happen, anything is possible! We’re so far from normal, what’s one more step into the impossible?”

“I don’t think that’s how that works…” she tries to warn.

“Yeah!” Callum jumps in, “A few years ago, heck, a few months ago it would’ve been unthinkable that a bunch of elves are coming for a diplomatic visit, now it seems like just the next step. You know that old saying that the first step is the hardest?”

“That’s a saying?” Soren mumbles. They ignore him.

“We’ve already done the hardest part. We’re at peace now, even if there’s no treaty. How hard can making it official be?”

“Please don’t jinx us,” she cautions.

“Don’t be superstitious,” he teases, “Anyways, they must be having a similar thought process to us, right? Maybe they’re also sick of war and want to focus on beating the Sunfires with superior…” he flounders, “trade agreements or money or something.”

“I… wouldn’t count on it,” she cuts in, not wanting him to dig a deeper hole of optimistic hope, “Most of the villages have a War Guild branch in them, so the Senate is full of pro-war elves, who’ll probably send pro-war ambassadors. That much can’t have changed in the four months it’s been since I’ve been home for real.” She raises an eyebrow dubiously. “You can’t teach an old shadowpaw new tricks.”

“Is that a saying?” They ignore Soren again.

“Sure, it seems impossible, but we have to hope, don’t we? Without hope for the future we’ve got nothing,” Callum’s upbeat expression melts as he acknowledges the reality of their position.

“You’re right,” she agrees, “we have to try, but we also have to be cautious. This is the first sliver of a chance we’ve had at peace in thousands of years. This is our only shot at saving every next generation from growing up in war. Like we all did. We can’t be too hasty.” Their faces fall as she says this, which almost makes her shut up, but she needs to know that they’ll take this seriously, so she continues.

“We can’t take any chances, and we can’t rely on the assumption that they also want what’s ultimately right. Career politicians work to keep themselves in power, not for the people. They help their constituents when it keeps them in power.” Everyone nods confirmation at her words.

“And even if it leaves everyone better off, there are still people who will want to keep fighting because it’s what we’ve been doing for centuries. Traditions and habit are hard to break.” Everyone nods again.

She sighs heavily. “You’re gonna try to make a treaty at this stupid festival anyway, aren’t ya?”

They grin in unison, “Oh yeah!” Soren pumps his fist.

She smirks despite herself, “I guess I’ve gotta help you if it’s even going to happen.”

Callum claps a hand onto her shoulder. “We appreciate your great sacrifice.”

She claps a hand against her forehead, “ And I’ll have to improve my reputation at this thing, huh?”

“I can give another speech about acceptance?” Ezran giggles.

“You guys… Ugh, I guess you get what you sign up for.” She smiles at all of them. Her head is still pounding, but it’s like she feels invigorated again.

She feels lighter, like a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders. She also feels sick to her stomach, so it’s a bit of a mixed bag.

Her feelings are also a mess, a mix between cautious optimism and hopeless dread. She really doesn’t think this is going to work. It’s too big a step after too long standing stationary. She also really doesn’t want to see any other Moonshadows, the wound of her ghosting too fresh.

Everything is so complicated and intertwined, she makes knots of her plans and mind as she sorts through it all. Her head aches even more the longer she pulls at the threads.

What can she do to assure peace for the ones she loves?

What can she do to protect them?

What can she do to put off her own problems until it’s more convincing?

What the hell is she going to do?

She’s knocked out of her ponderings when they all decide it’s getting late and head to bed. Callum holds her close as they reach the hall containing all their rooms. He whispers some reassurances to her, but she doesn’t process them. It hurts to think.

She feels more hopeless than ever. She tries to plan how she’ll win the humans over, but the thoughts don’t come to her, it’s too tangled up.

Her head spins. Her feet lead her to the room she uses when people are watching her head to sleep, so they don’t see her entering Callum’s room.

She doesn’t feel the ground beneath her. 

At some point, her blurry vision fades out.

It’s so dark.

You say, "We gotta look on the bright side" 

I say, "Well, maybe if you wanna go blind"

The door to Callum’s room slams open, startling him. Light from the hallway torches pours in, temporarily blinding him. 

“Wha-?” He murmurs.

At first he thinks Rayla is pranking him by waking him up to cuddle, but it’s Soren in the doorway, not his girlfriend.

He’s oddly panicked, Callum notices.

“What’s up, Soren?” He yawns.

“It’s Rayla. She’s gone.”

You say my eyes are getting too dark now / But boy, you ain't ever seen my mind

Chapter Text

My love is sick

It leaks and bleeds

All over me onto my nicest shirt

Vines without roots

Like knives in my body

And I am their puppet

Twisting ‘til I hurt

They checked over the grounds two, three times. He is nearly inconsolable the entire time, crying his eyes out and probably impeding Soren, Corvus, and Ezran, who headed the search team.

And it was a team , for Rayla (Gods, it hurt to think her name) was an official court noble, no matter how little work she actually did, entitled her to the full protection of the Crownguard. He thinks a lot about politics the day after she disappeared, partly because it’s so boring it distracts him from his sorrow, and partly because some little voice in his head says there’s no way she’d abandon him, even in the face of public disapproval.

He doesn’t want to believe that Rayla would ever leave. 

“Forever and ever,” he had told her once. They had been lounging around the Moon Nexus, he laid his head in her lap by the lakeside, enjoying the simple ecstasy of a relaxing morning in each other’s company under a pink wisteria tree. She had looked down into his eyes with the most blissful face he’d ever seen her make.

“Always, as long as I live and breathe,” had been her reply, and he remembers having been surprised at the time, expecting her to make fun of him for being a big, dumb, sappy human.

The sun shone through the trees down on them, dyed the color of love by the flowers, the pleasant buzz of far away cicadas affirmed the summer heat. The wind blew through the grass, picking up dandelion fuzz and the scent of portulacas and morning glories over their little meadow.

Everything felt like it was possible, then, like they could face everything as long as they were together, perform any number of miracles.

And now…

She was gone .

My love is sick

I’m running a fever so high

I peel my skin to breathe

Birds without cages

Find perch on my ribs and I

Stitch myself back up to keep them in

Soren looks at Callum, who was miserably reading a book titled How to Get Over Loss for Dummies , which he thinks is a little much, even for someone as drama-prone as the Step-Prince.

He shakes himself up a little bit, reminding himself to think mindfully about the world. He’s trying so hard, he really is. He’s been talking with The Brain Doctor. He’s been doing affirmations in front of the wash basin every morning. He’s been eating more. He’s been working less. He was doing good .

Then, Rayla just had to disappear mysteriously into the night.

He takes a breath in through his nose. It whistles, which is annoying, but he mentally waves it away.

He’s fine! Everything’s fine and dandy. All is well, he’s not going to blow up at nothing. He is calm. 

He’s not in denial, thank you very much.

Lady Justice , does he need a drink.

He massages his headache away in vain as he approaches Callum’s incredibly messy desk. It looked like he hadn’t cleaned in days, though it might’ve had something to do with all the books on locator magic.

“ Heyyy… .. Buddy.” He says, incredibly smoothly. Probably the smoothest anyone has ever been, really.

“What is it, Soren?” He responds flatly, not bothering to look up. He puts down the Loss book and switches to one called So Your Girlfriend Left You: How to Move On.

The weather outside the window is too sunny for how depressing the air inside his da- Callum’s office. It’s absolutely drowning in paper and inkwells and quills. The only spots that are empty are the places old magical specimens sat, where Callum has yet to fill the space with overdue library books. No one would try to get the Crown Prince to return his books. It’s an oddly calming environment for a place choked with tragedy. 

The golden afternoon sun hits the dust in the air as he lets the room fall into silence. He has no idea what he can say. 

Soren sucks air in through his teeth, the long hiss giving him time to think of what the hell he could say that wouldn’t get him punched in the face by a pissed off teenager (again). He breathes in through his nose, taking in the scent of candle smoke that had long since seeped into the walls and cabinets. Everything’s fine.

“So, I uh- I noticed you’ve been a little,” he gestured his hands vaguely, “ down , lately.”

Callum exhales sharply through his nose but still doesn’t look up. Alright, he thinks, I guess we’re doing this.

Soren cracks his knuckles as he prepares to have a really hard afternoon.

“Are you gonna say something or are you going to keep staring at me?” Callum slams his stupid book shut just as Soren lunges at him.

He has just enough time to splutter in surprise, but his weak little nerd arms do nothing to help him as Soren lifts him over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Callum yells as he pounds Soren’s back with his fist.

“Helping!” He says cheerily. Callum keeps hitting him, but hasn’t seemed to realize that Soren was wearing armor. Really, he’s surprised those two idiots and the King had ever managed to evade him and his si- could ever have evaded him.

As he walks them towards the courtyard, Callum seems to figure out the fault in his escape plan and quiets down, going alarmingly still in his arms.

He would ask him what was wrong, but it would probably be a little too awkward while he was dangling in the air and the servants watched on in confused amusement. And he’s not quite stupid enough to have no idea about the cause of his moody attitude.

He strides out the door with as much pep in his step as he can muster. Luckily, he’d planned ahead for once, and in the stables two horses were waiting for them.

Callum finally looks up, gazing miserably at the big-cat-thing that Rayla had left behind. He goes slack again with a pathetic groan.

Soren sighs as he bundles the prince onto a horse. 

“Where are we going?” He insists.

“Somewhere!” He answers, gritting his teeth as he smiles.

You’re an infection

I am keeping

No matter the sepsis

You are staying

I’d rather the wound

Than have you removed

Enough rotting for two

Killing me, keeping me high

The sun blazes in Callum’s eyes. He hates it. He hates a lot of things, on any given day. Viren, prejudice, homework, and today: Soren.

He huffs a heavy sigh for the third time. His horse is following Soren’s faithfully, but the two humans still hadn’t said a word to each other the entire trip. That is, if you didn’t count Soren’s ill fated attempts at sing-a-long Camp songs, whose lyrics Callum didn’t even know.

He decides it would be best to annoy Soren into explaining himself, so he sighs with all the passive-aggression he can muster. Soren’s shoulders slump forward in resignation. He whips his head around so fast his hair slaps his face.

“What is it?” he demands.

“Who, me?” Callum points to himself. “Nothing, absolutely nothing,” he crosses his arms and turns his face haughtily upwards.

Soren groans in exasperation, “I already told you, we’re going somewhere to help you feel better!” He turns back around with a forced cheerful smile.

“Okay,” Callum grits his teeth, “but where are we going ?” He brings his horse in front of Soren’s, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Well, you’ll be happy to know that your questions will be answered: we’re here!” He gestured grandly in front of them with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“It’s… a house.” 

“A Puzzle House!” Soren says, very helpfully.

“I… have no idea what that means,” he shakes his head and shrugs in disbelief.

“You will,” Soren says, very sagely. Callum sighs again, genuine this time, because he has a feeling that this trip was going to take a lot of mental fortitude.

My love is sick

It’s messy and wrong

But I pray for a bit of contagion

Hands without fingers

Like spoons at the source

Coat evenly

Oh, won’t you touch me?

As it turns out, the Puzzle House does help Callum feel better. The combination of problem-solving to get through the rooms and the variety of magic tomes stored throughout means he has little time to focus on his sorrow. He is reminded of a time just a few months ago, but by now felt like a whole lifetime, when he had stared in “googly-eyed amazement” at the Moonshadow Forest, but he forces the memories as far away as they can get. It was the time for knowledge , not sadness.

“Soren! Look at this!” He holds up a clear crystal.

“It’s… a thingy!” He smiles brightly. Callum dead pans. “It’s a prism! It’s for amplifying light spells.”

“Right,” Soren drawls, “I knew that.” Callum rolls his eyes.

It was a treasure trove of artifacts in the room they’d found hidden behind a wall. Books, scrolls, assorted animal body parts. 

And… a finger.

It was impossible to tell if it was elven or human, but either way, when they found it, all other activity came to a stop.

“ That’s not creepy at all.” Soren cringes away from it.

“I don’t think it’s very creepy, just sad.” Callum retrieves his handkerchief to gently cover and lift it. He encloses it in the cloth as gingerly as he can.

“You don’t think a severed finger is creepy?” Soren presses.

“Well, creepy implies that there’s something you’re scared of, but whoever this belonged to isn’t here anymore, and whoever took the finger isn’t either, so what do we have to fear?”

“I guess…” Soren trails off. They both look to the finger again. “It feels wrong to leave it here, though.” 

Callum agrees, “yeah. Maybe we should cremate it?” He’s sure that no one would want their body part to be used for dark magic. 

Soren nods his assent. “Let’s go get some tinder.”

Neither of them speak. They don’t want to talk about what the finger means, what its presence here implies. Whoever it belonged to likely didn’t meet a very kind fate. And while Callum barely remembers Kpp’ar, he knows that Claudia was very fond of him. This isn’t just a reminder of the evils of dark magic, it’s a reminder of someone both of them lost.

They gather some dry leaves and twigs, not especially hard in the dry summer. They set up a small pit for Soren to build a fire in. Callum searches the rest of the room, but no other body parts make themselves known. 

He was going through a tome on tracking when he found it. 

Yaw eht etanimulli, dnif dna hcraes dna kees, sdnal lla ssorca. 

A spell for finding missing people. 

He hides the tome from Soren, storing it in his undershirt. He doesn’t know why he even keeps it a secret, he just has a feeling . Whether his gut was warning him about Soren’s potential disapproval or a future need for the spell, he doesn’t know, but follows his instincts, regardless.

He doesn’t know what happened to Rayla, whether she left of her own free will. It’s just a precaution, he reasons, for the worst case scenario. Just in case.

The tome burns against his skin.

The fire is ready, he gathers the finger up and moves the cloth off of it. The skin is greyed, but obviously dark-skinned and rough, belonging to someone who worked with their hands, like an artisan or warrior. His stomach turns as he notices a new detail: the fingernail had been torn out whole. He feels the vague urge to vomit, but holds it in out of respect for the victim.

As they stand over the fire, neither of them can seem to gather their words for a few minutes. In the dimming light of the twilight the fire seems to burn brighter than the stars. 

Callum breathes in the scent of smoke. 

“To whomever this belonged to, I apologize. People are capable of such evil that it’s hard to comprehend the depth of it.” Soren looks down with a few tears in his eyes. “I wish that what happened to you wouldn’t have, but it did, and there’s no excuse for that.” Callum gathers his thoughts as he breathes in. “I hope you know that we’re trying to fix it, so no one else ever suffers like you did. I hope you find peace.”

They lower their heads as Callum gently lowers the finger, letting it go into the flames. A spark flies up, reaching towards the sky and the stars like one reaches for the next rung of a ladder. He looks up at the heavens, and hopes the twinkling is more than a natural phenomenon.

They stick around the fire until it dies out, then they take some of the ashes and scatter them about. When they gather up their horses, they come to the conclusion that something needs to be said.

Soren sighs, “Man. The world is so messed up.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“I wish… I wish she had come with me.”

“Claudia?”

“Yeah. I wish she’d realized how wrong she was. I wish she would’ve seen how awful Viren was. I wish I had tried harder to convince her.” He lowers his head in shame.

“You did all you could,” Callum assures.

“Everyone keeps saying that, or at least I can tell that’s what they all feel. But that’s not what it feels like to me. It feels like I let her fall into Viren’s clutches. It feels like I failed her.”

“You didn’t, I swear. When someone doesn’t want to help themselves, there’s nothing you can do to convince them. You did the best you could, and it’s alright that it didn’t work. No one can blame you.”

“I can,” he darkly insists.

“I figured you would. It’s never that easy to move past something like that. I guess… you just have to keep trying”

Soren turns to look at him. “You’re pretty wise, y’know that?” He smiles ruefully.

“Only about Big Feelings Times,” he jokes, but it falls flat even to his own ears.

“And magic.”

“And magic, too.” He’s grateful Soren seems so good at carrying conversations.

They lapse into silence, broken only by their horses whinnying occasionally. He thinks about a lot of things under those stars. His fathers, one gone before he could really know them and the other before he could say goodbye.

He thinks about Rayla, even though that wound is the freshest. He thinks about the nights spent in the Moon Nexus, laughing and rolling in the grass.

The quiet is broken when Soren suddenly slumps over. “Lady Justice have mercy on me, but I really wish she would come back right now.” For one confused second, he thinks Soren is talking about Rayla, then realizes that they’re back to talking about Claudia.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing to want.”

“No? Even after everything she did?”

“I mean… I think I would feel different if it wasn’t Claudia , y’know? When it’s some nebulous other person, it’s so much easier to just call them evil and move on. But we know Claudia. She’s your sister and she was one of my best friends. Even though she did such awful things, we can still remember all the good things, too. We know, at least to an extent, why she did the things she did. We know how she justified it to herself. It’s harder to think of her as evil. At least that’s what I think.”

“You’re right. It’s different when you don’t know them. When you can’t see the person behind the monster.”

“Boy, do I know that.” 

Callum hums appeasingly, words failing him.

“But… even still. That was a person. A person with a life, a-and a family. And friends. I know we’ve been talking for months about how evil dark magic is, but it really hasn’t sunk in ‘til now. Gods,” he breathes the final word. 

A bird screeches form somewhere in the forest, bidding goodbye to the final dredges of the sun’s light peeking over the horizon. 

The world darkens, as it always seems to,

You’re the cure

You’re the curse

You make it better

You make it worse

You’re my killer

And my Christ

(But I’m the one twisting the knife)

When they reach the castle gates, Callum quickly bids goodbye to Soren before nearly sprinting towards the High Mage’s office. He doesn’t tell Soren what he’s so desperate to do, but Soren doesn’t care to know, in all honesty. Probably something nerdy, not for Soren to worry about.

He does his check-ins with the Crownguard, making sure each of his soldiers is alright before heading to his quarters near the barracks. Unfortunately for his tired brain, he spots a suspicious figure hurrying across the courtyard. Double unfortunately, he’s too good at his job to let something like that slip.

He quickens his pace to a light jog, easily catching up to the stranger and falling in step a few yards behind them. He keeps his footsteps light and casual, trying to play off his presence as normally as he can. He’s not especially good at tracking. Or acting.

However, it doesn’t seem to matter, as the hooded person remains unaware of his presence.

They wind through the main building of the castle, going through both regular hallways and the servant passages. He switches from feigning normal walking to sneaking from wall to wall, avoiding their sight and hearing.

To Soren’s surprise, they travel to the guest quarters. There’s a large crowd in the hallways. Likely due to the sheer amount of visitors lodging there for the Harvest Festival.

He gives up on sneaking as the figure disappears in the crowd, instead pushing through the drunken partiers as fast as he can. 

But when he finally breaks through the mass, all he sees is Duke Marcester entering his guest chambers.

My love is sick

It’s taken me whole

I’m simply a host to a haunting

Soren can’t shake off the feeling that something is wrong. He knows he seems like he’s going insane, but there’s something off in the air. He paces around the courtyard, circling the tree that his sister had once read under. For once, he allows the memories of her to slip over him. It’s strange how much his heart hurts at the thought of her. She isn’t even dead, at least not to his knowledge.

She’s out there somewhere being evil, and here he is, worrying about people taking nighttime walks.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? She’s out there, he’s in here, and they’re both alone.

He sighs heavily, then turns his head into the cool breeze, letting it rustle his hair. 

He decides that sleep is for the weak, and beelines towards the High Mage’s office to make sure that he really is crazy and everything’s alright.

He enters the room after he knocks five times and no one answers him. Instead of the room being empty like he’d begun to think it was, he found Callum hunched over a desk with only a few candles lit. Soren became concerned when he noisily approached and Callum didn’t so much as stir.

“Callum?” He asks. Callum is looking at a book, bound in black leather and covered in cryptic swirls embossed with gold leaf. He’s breathing heavily, his chest heaving with every gust of air.

“Step-prince…?” He says in panic, trying to get a rise out of him. Callum doesn’t acknowledge him, but instead whimpers in pain and clutches at his chest over his heart. Soren rushes forward as fast as he can and grasps at his chair, turning it away from the desk.

His skin is both pale and flushed. His hair is drenched in sweat. In the light of the candles, the black flashes almost silver. 

“Hey, buddy, breathe with me. Breathe,” he attempts to comfort. His heart rate picks up as panic fills him. He pats Callum’s shoulder appeasingly as he glances around the room, scanning for threats. “Let me call for help.”

Callum’s hand is suddenly grasping his forearm, Soren’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest.

“No. Don’t,” Callum chokes out. His eyes glint darkly in the shadows.

Soren doesn't know what the hell else to do. He whips his head around like there’s someone else there to tell him. 

“What’s wrong?” He settles on asking, kneeling in front of him and grasping his hand tightly.

“I-I..” Callum trails off as his labored breathing takes over.

Soren decides to let him take his time speaking, for lack of a better course of action. He sucks air through his teeth for a few agonizing seconds.

“I… I almost did something awful .”

Soren doesn’t know what to say to that. 

“I knew it was wrong and I still wanted to do it so bad . It was like it was calling to me . I know it’s wrong, I swear -” 

“What are you talking about?” Soren cuts him off as his speech becomes increasingly rushed.

He groans and presses his hands into his eye sockets. 

“Callum, you can tell me.”

“I- I,”

“Yeah?”

“I almost did dark magic!” He yells.

Soren startles at the noise, then again when the words sink in.

“I… don’t know what to say.” 

Callum shakes his head in despair. “I don’t either. It’s sick, isn’t it? I’m sick .” Tears stream down his face now, mixing with the sweat.

Soren is at a complete loss for words. Callum continues regardless, “I know it’s wrong. I know it’s awful, and I’m awful for thinking about it. We just talked about how evil it is! I don’t know why I even considered it! I don’t know why I feel like this,” he sobs miserably.

Soren’s eyes widen as Callum spills his secrets out of his chest. He can’t think of the words to comfort him, so instead he pulls Callum into a fierce hug.

Callum’s snot gets all over his armor. He gathers his thoughts. He breathes in as evenly as he can, hoping his prince will latch on to the pattern.

“The last time I saw my sister, I thought I killed Viren.” 

“What?” Callum startles out of his despair for a second.

“It was during the battle at the Storm Spire, well, after, I guess. Claudia made an illusion of Viren for King Ezran to stumble into, then I had to make a choice.” His voice breaks. “I chose Katolis. I chose your brother. I stabbed the illusion through the chest.”

Callum goes quiet as Soren tells his story, something he is grateful for. Callum’s always been better at wishy-washy emotional stuff.

“When Claudia saw what I did, Lady Justice above, I swear I’d never seen her so… betrayed. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes. Not as long as I live and breathe. All I could think was, ‘This is it. We can never come back from this. She’ll never forgive me for this.’ 

“Even though I knew in the moment it was necessary to protect the world, I still can’t bring myself to not regret what I did. I still think that if I’d been a little less jumpy, if I’d tried to talk her down more, if I’d dragged her with me when I deserted, she’d be here with us now, and we’d be joking and laughing together.” He laughs wetly. 

Callum raises his eyebrows in question, not understanding what he’s getting at.

Soren sighs dejectedly, “What I mean is, we all do things we regret. We jump to conclusions, we speak out of turn, we act fast in the moment because it’s all we can do. Afterwards, we can see everything much clearer when our emotions aren’t running as high. It’s what we do then that matters most, I think. 

“The first thing we jump to is just our instincts. What we do after is who we really are,” he insists.

Callum raises his head to look him in the eyes. “What if my instincts make me do horrible things? Am I not responsible for that?”

“That’s not what I said,” Soren huffs good-naturedly, “I just mean that you can’t blame yourself too much for things you panicked into doing. Most people are bad at working under pressure. Most people also have the moral compass to realize when they’ve done something bad. I think that the fact you’re feeling bad right now means you aren’t terrible or evil, you just jumped the gun a little.” Soren hopes he sounds convincing. He’s really not cut out for so many heartfelt conversations. 

“But it’s dark magic. I swore I’d never do it again. It’s wrong.” Callum maintains.

“You have to learn to give yourself a little leeway. You can’t be at fault for everything that happens around you. You have to forgive yourself for some things, or else you’ll end up drowning in guilt.”

“ Dark magic… ”

Soren groans in frustration. “You know who my dad and sister are, right? I’m not exactly a great source of comfort in that regard.”

Callum blinks slowly, taking the statement in. It’s completely quiet for a moment.

“If we can forgive ourselves for some things, can we forgive them, too?” His voice is so soft it’s barely audible.

“I think.. That’s slightly different.”

“How so?” Soren pats Callum’s arm before pushing himself up to his feet. 

“I don’t know why you’re thinking about doing dark magic, but I know why they did it. They did it for power, to feel superior. You have better intentions.”

Callum starts to argue, but Soren puts a hand up to stop him. “Forgive yourself, remember? Are you trying to conquer the world?” Callum shakes his head no. “Feel any murderous urges lately?” Callum snorts.

“Great! Congrats, you’re not as evil as my family.” They both huff in amusement, and in loss.

“Why do you think they were so obsessed with magic?” Callum’s eyes seem to bore into his. 

“Hmm… I think there were a lot of reasons. It could be that they had something to prove. They had something that made them feel less than, maybe they needed the magic to feel better. Maybe they had to, on some level, at least,” he trails off. Callum says nothing, letting him gather his thoughts.

“But.. I think it’s something more. I think they got caught in a feedback loop. I think they fed each other reasons back and forth until they couldn’t see how far they’d drifted. Everything they did, they thought they did for their family. By the end, Viren couldn’t see his hunger for power was hurting the people closest to him, and Claudia couldn’t see it either. However dangerous, however vile, they didn’t see a problem with it. They hand-waved away any questions with ‘it was for humanity,’ ‘anything for family’ ,” he finishes bitterly.

“Didn’t you say we were supposed to judge actions based off intent?” Both of them look around the room, taking in the walls of the office that once belonged to a usurping, murderous, dark mage.

“To an extent. I think… I think we also have to think about the people who get hurt. Even if you didn’t mean to, someone is affected by what you did. You can forgive yourself, but you can’t make others forgive you. The thing is, though, they meant to hurt people. Even if it was for family or country or whatever, people got hurt. People died. I don’t think we should forgive their actions, but maybe…” He leaves out the rest, thinking it sounded a little insane.

Callum tilts his head in acknowledgement. “If you say so.” Soren nods and takes a few steps towards the door, wanting to get out of any more emotions as fast as he can.

“Soren, wait.” 

“Yeah?”

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

Soren doesn’t know what to say.

Ghosts without corpses

Still linger in flesh

Holding on to a love they keep wanting