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late-to-the-fandom · 2 years ago

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Prince Renathal struggles to come to terms with his time in the Maw and his relationship with his Maw Walker during the Venthyr's covenant assault on the Tremaculum. Rated T for implied sexual scenarios. Read here on Ao3 for triggers and tags.

Takes place several months after the imprisonment of Denathrius.

The Maw. It was as dark and harrowing as Renathal remembered. And standing on the ramparts of the Tremaculum, gazing out over the endless expanse of screaming black lurking on every side of the fortress, even the Dark Prince could not suppress a shudder.

Convincing himself to return here had been no small task. All those hazy, horrid memories of his imprisonment - the helplessness, powerlessness; stewing in his own misery and madness, convinced he would never escape - he was able to keep them at bay in Revendreth where he had no end of distractions and little time for dark reminiscences. But now... being back here, where it all happened.... it no longer felt like a distant fever-dream, but an all-consuming nightmare.

Renathal hurled another bolt of vermillion anima magic at the Mawsworn in the fortress below him in an effort to thwart his growing despair. He had hoped the presence of so many friends and allies would make a difference. Just down the ramparts was Theotar's indomitable tea party, an oasis of peace in this stronghold of misery; in the other direction, the Curator, whose determination to join the fight in spite of her own torture in Torghast had bolstered Renathal's resolve to come as well. And everywhere he looked, the Ardenweald defenders' sparkling lights and high battle cries brought pockets of laughter to the bleak desolation. He paused in his spell casting and gazed wistfully around, trying to let the sights cheer him, strengthen his courage, anchor him to existence outside the Maw.

But, as he watched his friends, old and new, being slowly smothered by the Tremaculum’s miserable air, Renathal feared he had made a mistake in bringing them here. He had led them into a hell from which there was no escape. The Mawsworn simply kept coming, no matter what power he threw at them. However many he destroyed, more waited in their wake - a vicious, unending sea of blades and chains and cruel magic. His small band of defenders would never be enough to push them back. And even if by some miracle they did -

Another distant roar echoed from across the battlements, a reminder of the guardian of the Tremaculum, merely biding its time before it chose to descend upon them in fury and demonic flame. The familiar tendrils of despair Renathal thought he had cast off when he escaped the Maw crept across his chest once more.

This damned darkness would swallow them whole.

Then Burly Hurly's rumbling basso echoed up from behind him, followed by a clatter on the ramparts and a light oof, and Renathal's mouth twitched in the shadow of a smile. The Maw Walker's voice always conjured that expression from him, like one of her many little useful spells. He turned, watching her right herself and smooth down her robes, a small self-deprecating smile gracing her features at her less than elegant entrance. She caught him staring and winked.

"You started without me?"

It was no real reproof. Her voice sparkled with humour, and the tension in Renathal's shoulders eased a fraction at the sound.

"I am afraid our friends from Ardenweald simply could not wait. But rest assured, there is still plenty for you to do."

Something of his earlier dark mood seeped into his voice, and the Maw Walker's face shifted into its usual expression - smoothly impassive; what Renathal once read as lack of interest and now recognised as focus, her pale eyes drinking in every detail. She stood beside him, surveying the carnage taking place in the fortress below.

"How goes it?"

"Our enemies currently surround us on all sides. Their forces are seemingly endless."

"Nothing is endless."

She said it with such quiet confidence even the Prince could not bring himself to argue. The Maw Walker turned her head at his uncharacteristic silence, inspecting him with the same laser focus she had the battlefield, as if he were a puzzle she was trying to solve.

"What do you need from me?"

Renathal's amber eyes glowed briefly. There were so many ways to answer that question - many of them sufficiently distracting from his current downcast mood, but only a few of them appropriate to the setting. He knew what he needed from her, but he could not ask her for it. Not here. Not now. His true needs would have to wait. He took a steadying breath and returned his thoughts to the situation at hand.

"Assist the others.” Renathal gestured around at his compatriots on the ramparts. "They will all have specific tasks for you, I am certain. We must push more of these Mawsworn back before we can move on the beast above."

They both glanced up automatically at the platform in the distance where the shadow of the Tremaculum's fiery guardian crouched. The Mawsworn called it Gothra, the Trembler. Renathal had assured his forces when they had first arrived - when he had more of his usual optimistic fatalism about him- that it would be his and Lady Moonberry's task to take on this evil. But now, seeing it loom so large even from so far away, he worried whether their power would suffice.

"Excellent!" The Maw Walker clapped her hands together lightly, derailing his anxious train of thought. "I'll make the rounds then."

She spoke as if she faced a somewhat challenging assortment of guests at the Ember Court rather than an army of merciless fiends. Renathal usually adored her casual approach to danger, but ... the Maw still weighed heavy on him, a burden he could not shed.

"Do stay safe, my Maw Walker."

She gave him a mock-formal nod, though Renathal thought her eyes lingered on his face longer than strictly necessary.

"As you command, your Highness."

And she disappeared.

Renathal cast a subtle glance in each direction, waiting to see where she would blink back into existence. There she was - halfway down the ramparts, where Theotar and his coterie sat. The Duke rose to greet her warmly, immediately offering her a cup which she accepted with a gracious smile. She stood at her ease for several minutes, listening attentively to the Mad Duke's chatter, sipping politely, nothing to indicate she had arrived for any reason other than to enjoy his company.

Something of the fondness Renathal felt for her trickled into his face, his lips curling in as true a smile as they could muster in this place. No matter the situation, the Maw Walker always stopped everything for her friends, always acted as though their needs, however small, were the most important part of her existence. It was a quality he greatly admired.

He continued to watch from the corner of his eye as the Maw Walker made her way across the ramparts to the various generals of the assault; asking questions, taking orders, assessing where her power would be best used. Finally, she hopped lightly onto the balustrade and, without preamble, stepped off into space. She floated gently to the ground below and was immediately accosted by two Mawsworn guards. A purple flash of light burst into being around her, flinging the soldiers back and knocking them to the ground. More purple lights, and the Mawsworn stayed down.

Renathal released the breath he had not known he was holding as the Maw Walker flitted further across the Tremaculum until all that could be seen of her was her signature purple glow. It was a colour he had come to associate with hope, with beauty, with strength - and the sight of it inspired strength in him, as well.

It was time to do his part. Renathal called on his own magic and rose gracefully into the air.

"Lady Moonberry," he called, pleased to hear his voice come out confident. "Might you kindly cover our advance into the fortress?"

"A simple trick," chirped the ever-cheerful winged Night Fae, engulfing them both in blue light. "Now no one can see us unless we want them to!"

They drifted down into the midst of the battle, swathed in the lightly shimmering blue mist. Renathal gazed around him as they descended, trying to catch a glimpse of the Maw Walker, but her flashing lights had disappeared around a dark corner. He did his best to keep apprehension at bay as he and Draven cut a path through their own swarm of enemies to reach the Tremaculum's stairs. After all, this was the Maw Walker's area of expertise. She was powerful and competent, had defeated the deadliest enemies on any numbers of worlds, Renathal knew this well. He rarely felt any fear sending her on dangerous missions throughout Revendreth or the other realms of the Shadowlands. But this was different.

This place...

He shuddered again, disguising it as an adjustment of his coat as he and Draven took stock of themselves under the Tremaculum's stairs behind Lady Moonberry's invisibility spell.

Renathal had never experienced true suffering before the Maw. He was the firstborn of Denathrius, the favoured son. The Prince. He had his pick of everything, succeeded at anything to which he set his hand. Perhaps that was what had given him the confidence to believe he could take down his own Sire; what convinced him that he, in the right, must win out over corruption no matter who was behind it. Instead, he had been cast down, tortured, and finally caged and forgotten, left to waste away in this unending nightmare.

Until the Maw Walker came. The shadows broken by her soft purple glow, her eyes peering at him through the bars, her gentle voice saying his name. Renathal closed his eyes, picturing her, as he often did when stressed: the image of the Maw Walker's hand, held out to him after releasing him from his prison against all odds, offering him freedom and hope. She had changed him. She had changed everything. Even this wretched place.

It took Renathal a few seconds to realize the purple glow was no longer merely in his memory but glinting between the cracks in his closed eyelids. He opened them to find the object of his thoughts peering around the corner at him. Her typically inscrutable eyes held unmistakable concern. He fixed his face into a mask of nonchalance.

“How goes the fight?”

“Smooth as glass. I'm just returning Lady Moonberry's wand.”

The Maw Walker held out the long wooden rod to the winged Night Fae who took it with a giggle.

"I could see the little tormenters scampering from here! That will teach them to be such bullies!"

The Maw Walker's smile widened to match the winged Night Fae's tinkling laugh, and even Renathal could feel humour blossom in his chest like a widowbloom, choking the weeds of anxiety.

“Let it not be said that it was ever boring while Lady Moonberry was present,” he declared with a hint of his customary wry humour.

He caught the Maw Walker's eye, and she glowed at him, an expression that took his breath away. He was so accustomed to looks of respect, even awe, from penitent souls and other Venthyr, he hardly noticed them anymore. But to be the source of such naked admiration... and on such a beautiful face. It was like a draught of strong anima wine. It left Renathal dizzy and uninhibited. He felt a sudden urge to rejoin the fight.

"We are ready to take the brute upstairs at your command," he told the Maw Walker, finally feeling as confident as he sounded.

She glanced away across the Tremaculum, searching for something he could not see, then back at him again.

"Just one last task to complete. Then I'm all yours. Lady Moonberry?" She released Renathal's eyes to address the Night Fae emissary. "Do look after my prince for me, will you?"

And she was gone again.

Did she know what her words did to him, Renathal wondered, or was it merely coincidence? Could she have any idea what an electric thrill it sent down his spine to hear her call him her prince? And there were so many other things of hers he wanted to be...

A sudden burst of whoops and applause from the Night Fae contingent interrupted Renathal's heady musing. He stepped past Lady Moonberry's spell into the unprotected space beside the stairs to see the source of the commotion. An enormous, sparkling gorm was lumbering across the fortress, knocking back an oncoming band of Mawsworm and squashing them under its squirming weight. Atop it sat the Maw Walker -his Maw Walker - and she was laughing.

No matter what the Maw Walker was doing, she was almost always smiling. A small, inscrutable quirk of the mouth was her face's natural expression, as much her signature as her sparkling purple magic. But laughter - true, unfettered happiness - that was harder to draw from her. Making the Maw Walker laugh was a favorite past time of Renathal's - he found he had rather a talent for it as they shared the same dry humour. Now, watching her meet her enemies, face aglow with laughter, he felt his heart truly lighten for the first time since he had returned to this forsaken place.

As the Maw Walker reined her wriggling steed around, doubling back towards Renathal again, she found his eyes and laughed still harder. And Renathal realised he was smiling, really smiling, something he did not know he could manage in this soul-sucking realm. But the Maw Walker's joy was infectious that way.

Had there been joy in Revendreth before her? If there had, Renathal could not remember it. There was pleasure, certainly, and revelry - courts and balls and endless extravagances - anything to distract from eternity with the worst of the damned. But joy? It was such a different feeling, what she inspired in him, like torch light growing brighter and brighter in his chest, burning but never searing. Renathal had never known pleasant associations with light and fire before the Maw Walker. Never known how wonderful it felt to be truly warm. And now… now, he could not imagine a world without it.

The growing fear of what existence would be like when this was all over, if the Maw Walker left, prickled at Renathal again, as it often did. But he did not have time to indulge it.

"Ready when you are."

The Maw Walker had dismounted at the stairs, leaving her Gorm to be corralled and led off by several merry Sylvar. She shook drops of glowing slime from her robes and reached up to straighten her hair. Her face still shone with the memory of her laughter.

And Renathal found he was ready. That thrill of excitement he felt in battle, no matter its likely outcome, had finally overtaken him, outshining the oppressive dark. He threw off the weight of the Maw like a sodden cloak, reveling in the feeling of freedom and hope once more, and, with a surge of anima, he glided forward up the stairs, his allies and his Maw Walker falling into step behind him.

"With the power of Revendreth and Ardenweald united, even the most dreaded of the Jailer's beasts will fall with ease!"

Renathal's voice was triumphant, loud enough to be heard over the continued sounds of battle. But not loud enough to drown out the furious roar of the charred behemoth that met them at the top of the stairs.

Gothra, the Trembler. It lumbered slowly around to face them. It had clearly not expected anyone to charge it. But the creature recovered quickly, lurching toward them with another bellow as it drew itself to full height, its wicked fire blotting out the sight of their allies far below.

"However, I did not expect it to be quite so large!"

Renathal's attempt at humour was punctuated by a short cry as he swerved to dodge a jet of angry flame.

"Now it's easier to hit!" called Lady Moonberry, ever a source of practical optimism.

She sent a sparkling blue perabola of light hurtling toward the beast, and Renathal, hovering out of its reach, raised his hands to add his own magic to the assault. He watched another beam of red anima meet his own: Draven's magic; then a stream of purple sparks ascending from the ground which was the Maw Walker's. The combined effect of magic meeting flame lit the eternal blackness of the Maw as brightly as any corner of the Ember Ward.

Gothra simply roared. An explosion of demonic flame from within its core sent fel heat across the platform, extinguishing the defender's spells and sending them staggering back.

Renathal’s stomach dropped all in an instant; just as it had when he had fallen to his knees before Denathrius, realizing too late what a miscalculation he had made. The beast before them cut through anima like a gentle breeze. The power on which they relied would be no use here at all. He wracked his brain for an alternative plan, thinking vainly of Vorpalia whom he had left behind in spite of her protests, assuring her she would not be needed. Well, at least she would be able to say she told him so if he managed to return, which seemed less and less likely.

And then, as in every one of Renathal's darkest moments, the Maw Walker's voice broke through.

"Hold on! I have an idea!"

Her words were saturated in staid assurance, and Renathal knew hope still existed.

He glanced to the side of the platform where the Maw Walker stood and noticed she had conjured - a mirror? One of the mirrors of Revendreth's transport network, or very like it. Renathal knew she had a fascination with their mirrors. Conjuring them was a piece of magic she had picked up from the Venthyr and used frequently. It always delighted him to see her use his magic, the power he had given her and knew so well.

The mirror's glass finished crystalizing into existence, red mist swirling within. And the Maw Walker disappeared through it.

The thought that she was abandoning them here in the Maw flicked briefly across Renathal's mind like the swing of a sudden blade. He parried the strike at once. Never. She would never abandon them. He conjured up the memory of their first failed charge on Denathrius, a fight she had known they would lose. But she had stood beside him regardless, smiled in the face of certain defeat, and assured him if Denathrius cast them into the Maw once more that she would find him and his allies and get them out.

Denathrius' betrayal had shaken Renathal's faith in many things, but his faith in the Maw Walker held strong. He let it soar through his anima, bolstering the magic thwarting Gothra's attempts to reach him, Draven, and Lady Moonberry. The Maw Walker would never leave her friends here. She would never leave him here.

Though, Renathal did wonder what her plan was, exactly.

Light began to seep through the red mirror; first a trickle, then a steady, golden ray, quickly followed by the Maw Walker herself. The Light hit the beast's legs, burning them, causing it to howl and stamp in rage - but there was not enough Light to hold it. Not nearly.

Renathal was wondering how best to thank the Maw Walker while also acknowledging her plan had failed when she disappeared in that shimmer of purple and blinked back into being on the other side of the platform. She spread her arms wide, conjured another ornate mirror into existence, and leaped into its swirling depths.

And Renathal understood. He could not stop the triumphant laughter bursting from him, unbidden. His body shook with it, his head thrown back as he gave himself over to pure, exuberant joy. He was sure he looked less than dignified. Joy often had that effect, he had discovered, but the feeling it left was well worth it.

When the Maw Walker next reappeared, she met his eyes and gave him a quick nod as she sprinted to his corner of the platform, already conjuring her third mirror.

"Allies, brace yourselves!" Renathal called. "Our Maw Walker is nearly ready!"

The creature was now writhing in the presence of the Light. Three beams succeeded in hemming it in, cracking its armored casing and blistering it unmercifully, but they were not enough to destroy it entirely. Renathal focused on his stream of glowing anima, eyes flicking between the rampaging beast and the fourth mirror the Maw Walker had now conjured and disappeared through.

One minute passed. Then another. Renathal waited, arms beginning to tremble with the effort of holding the beast in place.

More minutes slid by, as long and slow as ages. The Maw Walker did not reappear.

A flicker of worry wormed its way into Renathal's confidence. What had she met with? What was happening in Revendreth without him there? All his many suppressed fears struggled to loose themselves on him at once. Had Denathrius made a bid for escape? Had the remnants of the Sire's supporters attacked Sinfall? There were so many things that could go wrong, and no way for him to know or stop them from here....

And then brilliant, victorious Light burst through the fourth mirror. It connected with its sister beams in the middle of the platform, engulfing Gothra in a furious golden swathe. The guardian of the Tremaculum sank to its knees, its howls of agony deafened by the Light's song, like the ringing of a thousand bells. It was not a sound to typically thrill the soul of the Dark Prince, but the sight of the purple light emerging from the final mirror was.

"Burn in the light of the Ember Ward, wretched beast!" cried Renathal, and whether anyone could hear him over the noise and chaos, he neither knew nor cared. His words were for the Maw itself.

Gothra's death throes shook the fortress's foundations until, at last, it disintegrated, leaving behind only smoking, sulfurous ash. Renathal lifted his arm to shield his face from the Light burning into his own form, but he knew better than to worry. The red mirrors were already fading from existence at a spoken word from the Maw Walker below, and the Light evaporated with it.

Renathal slowly descended to the platform, eyes adjusting to the abrupt lack of light, blinking past the spots in his vision as he searched for the Maw Walker. His heart skipped a beat when he could not immediately place her, but - there she was, waiting at the other end of the platform next to an ecstatically fluttering Lady Moonberry.

The Maw Walker's chest rose and fell heavily. There was a long gash in the side of her robes and her hair was in disarray. But she caught Renathal's eye as he approached and straightened, as dignified as she could manage in her disheveled state. She folded her hands in front of her and dipped her head in a deep nod, her formality belied slightly by the wry grin on her face.

"The Tremaculum is yours, Prince Renathal."

The sound of his name on her lips was the moment's crowning glory. Perhaps it was the thrill of battle still coursing through him, but Renathal's red eyes darkened at the rush of unbidden fantasies of all the other ways he wanted to hear her say his name. Only there was no time just now to explore that exciting avenue of thought. The crowd of Ardenweald and Revendreth defenders had gathered below the platform, waiting on tenterhooks for victory to be confirmed.

"The Tremaculum is ours!" Renathal let his voice carry across the forbidding air of the Maw, careless of who or what beyond the Tremamculum could hear him. Hopeful even. Let them all come. "This victory is not just for Ardenweald and Revendreth, but for the Shadowlands!"

The fortress below him exploded in cheers and whoops of approval, applause and elated laughter. The Night Fae's many-colored sparks shot into the dark air, lighting the oppressive sky with a bold and beautiful glow. Renathal let the sound of their celebratory revels wash over him like a wave of cleansing anima, then turned to find his Maw Walker again.

She was sitting on the platform's filthy, ashen floor, legs dangling over the side, arms propped behind her for support. Her eyes were closed and for a moment all the wear and war she had endured showed on her face.

The Maw Walker was tired.

People forgot she could be anything so mortal as tired as they piled task after task upon her, knowing she would never say no, certain she would succeed at whatever was asked. Renathal himself included. He winced at the thought.

He lowered himself to the ashen ground beside her, close enough for his armored shoulder to brush hers. The Maw Walker's eyes flicked open, found his, and she smiled - of course, she always did - though this was not her customary, supercilious smile. It was a warm, living thing that grew as she drank in the sight of him. The idea that the Maw Walker could draw as much strength from his presence as he did from hers was a point of pride in Renathal from which he could never repent.

"Well," he said casually, surveying the unending dark landscape in front of them, "in spite of the danger, I believe this has been a good bit of fun." The Maw Walker laughed softly, and his chest swelled. "Although, you did have me worried on that last mirror."

"Valeri was there," she said. Renathal raised an eyebrow, but the Maw Walker shrugged a weary shoulder. "I took care of her, and her acolytes. One more thing to cross off our to-do list."

"So, all in all, quite a productive afternoon."

"Indeed."

They sat in amicable silence for a moment, watching the Night Fae and the Venthyr below venting their high spirits on the last remaining dregs of the Mawsworn. Maybe it was the lack of Gothra's hellish flame casting the place into shadow, or perhaps it was the gorms still racing about in shimmery streaks, but Renathal thought the Tremaculum seemed less dark than it had earlier.

"Are you alright?" the Maw Walker asked, her gaze fixed on him again.

A simple question, but laden with meaning. She knew, and he knew she knew. Knew exactly how hard it had been for him to return here, what it had taken from him to do so, and what had given him the strength to do it.

Renathal shifted slightly to face her, his lips parted in a soft smile.

"Entirely."

He tucked a strand of loose hair back behind her long ear and leaned down to meet her lips.

It was an innocent sort of kiss, unlike most they had shared in the last year: the stolen kisses in the halls of Sinfall in between her many missions; those long, heated kisses broken by the moans he drew from her during their nights together; the passionate, lingering kiss she had left him with that morning before he readied his forces to enter the Maw, infusing Renathal with the energy he needed to do what he had set his mind to.

But this - this was really more confirmation than kiss. A physical sign that he was truly fine, and more than fine. With the Maw Walker beside him, Renathal was perfect.

"Awww... I love it!"

Lady Moonberry's high squeal broke them gently apart.

The Maw Walker glanced up. The sight of the Faerie's delighted clapping and Draven's stoic approval drew violet pinpricks on her high cheekbones. Being caught in an affectionate moment made the usually implacable Maw Walker flustered, and her blush was so delightful to Renathal he made a note to kiss her in front of others more often.

"Oh, just wait until Star Lake performs this play! Action and monsters, and romance? It's an instant classic! We'll call it, 'Taking the Tremaculum'! Niya's already been practicing her Maw Walker impression, we'll just need to find someone dashing to play the Prince...."

Renathal, chuckling through Lady Moonberry's excited chatter, rose to his feet and offered the Maw Walker his hand.

"I do hope you will invite us to opening night. That sounds like a performance we would love to see, does it not?"

He brushed long fingers against the Maw Walker's warm cheek, tracing the line of her face fondly. She leaned into his touch, her smile back in its proper place as she admitted, "Well, I do love a happy ending."

Read Part 2: The Harvester of Dominion| Visit the Masterpost

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tenspontaneite · 6 years ago

Text

Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 2/?)

In which Rayla beats up a camp of soldiers and reluctantly steals their boat.

Content warnings: chapter contains depictions of violence and harm against several random OCs. Also, mild emetophobia warning.

In the end, it turned out that both humans were pretty heavy sleepers.

About an hour into her watch, becoming simultaneously too tired and too bored to remain alert, Rayla pulled everything out of the bags and started organising it. She rolled each of the heavy fur cloaks up and tied them with some of the rope, as if they were bedrolls, and affixed each one to the bottom of the three backpacks of the group. She hesitated to go near Ezran’s, since it had the egg in it and she was fairly sure they didn’t want her going near it…but it wasn’t as though she were actually opening the thing, so in the end she tied that one on too. The toad opened his eyes to glare suspiciously at her while she was near him, and on one occasion croaked warningly, but left her alone.

By the time the first hints of day started lightening the sky, Rayla was feeling weary to the bone, but had sorted out all the supplies of the party, minus whatever Ezran might have in his bag with the egg. She laid his bits of clothing next to the bag so he could pack them himself, but got Callum’s bag all packed, filling it with his clothes, book, the sticks of charcoal, one jar, the bar of soap, the hairbrush, and one coil of rope. She was in the process of packing everything else into her own bag when the dawn chorus started, birds warbling out their songs, and she looked up at the sky.

The sight of the incrementally brighter sky instantly blanketed her with instinctive exhaustion. Even under the best of circumstances, daylight was usually a cue that made a Moonshadow elf feel drowsier, and these were far from the best of circumstances. She’d been awake for pretty much an entire, very active, day. Exhaustion pressed horribly at her, even the mild hint of daylight intensifying the sleepless headache behind her eyes.

She had planned to wait an hour or so more before waking Callum. But…this was probably fine. She really needed the rest. Even just a couple of hours. Slowly, she packed away the last straggling supplies into her own bag, and conceded to her tiredness.

She shuffled over to where the princes were sleeping, leaning over to gently shake Callum by the shoulder. It took a few tries to get him to stir, and that only after she started shaking him considerably more vigorously.

“Mmmwha-“ He mumbled, incoherently, and nearly rolled over right onto her. She rolled her eyes, shuffling out of the way, and shook him again. His eyes opened a little, bleary and unfocused, and blinked a couple of times. She watched the look on his face progress from vague confusion to something closer to sleepy recognition. “…Rayla.” He assessed, and raised a hand to rub at his eyes. “Mm…everything okay?”

She nodded up at the sky. “Dawn’s coming.”

He woke up a little more, eyes flickering between her and the sky, and then pushed himself upright. “Oh, right.” He mumbled. “My turn to watch, yeah. Okay.” He yawned. “Give me a few minutes?”

Rayla made a vaguely assenting noise, pushing all the bags aside to find a decent patch of ground to sleep on. Her hand twinged at her, the bind growing genuinely uncomfortable now, but frankly her headache was the greater evil at this point. She rubbed at her temples, the tiredness turning her quiet and sluggish and entirely disinclined to communicate with Callum while he got his bearings. She was vaguely aware of him brushing his fingers through his hair to remove a few leaves, and considered telling him that she’d obtained a hairbrush. In the end, she didn’t have the energy even for that, and just stayed silent.

“Okay, I think I’m good.” He announced after a minute, yawning again. “When should I wake you up?”

She looked up at the sky again, squinting. “…’Bout an hour after the dawn colours go away.” She said, distantly aware of her accent intensifying and slurring her words as she grew closer and closer to being allowed to pass out. “Or, if, y’know, humans come along.” She took his noise of agreement as cue to stop fighting for consciousness, and pretty much collapsed onto her chosen patch of grass.

She fell asleep within seconds.

As much as Rayla had raised her eyebrows at the princes’ heavy sleeping, she apparently wasn’t a great deal better that morning, because when Callum got around to waking her up, she opened her eyes to a scene of considerable mess; a mess whose making she hadn’t heard at all. She blinked, head pounding and eyes full of grit, and groaned lowly at the brightness of the daylight.

“…Should I let you sleep a bit longer?” Callum asked, hesitant, his hand drawing back from her shoulder and fidgeting nervously with the end of his scarf.

Stars above, Rayla wanted to say yes. Wanted to close her eyes and not wake up until a sensible time of day, like dusk, or midnight. But they were in enemy territory, and their position wasn’t exactly secure, and they had a long way to go today.

“…No.” She croaked, voice creaky, and cleared her throat. She sat up, accidentally shoulder-checking Callum out of the way in the process, and found the fingers of her left hand feeling vaguely tight and stiff as she flexed them. “Got t’wake up, ‘n do things. Ugh.” She dragged herself to her feet, and stared at the mess she’d half-noticed in her first seconds of wakening. “…Why’d’you unpack everything?”

“Morning, Rayla.” Ez greeted, sounding entirely too bright and awake for her peace of mind. “We wanted to see what you’d got from the lodge, but didn’t want to wake you up.” He held up one of the two large jars she’d packed. “What are these for?”

She swayed forwards and snatched it from him. “Food.” She said, shortly. “Storing berries or whatever. Where’s the other one?”

Callum passed it over to her, looking vaguely intimidated by whatever her facial expression was doing, and she grunted in acknowledgement.

“’m goin’ to find breakfast.” She said, and with the two jars under her arm scaled the nearby tree with considerably less elegance and grace than usual.

She trampled through the forest canopy, taking a brief glimpse above to look at the human camp, but nothing much seemed to have changed there, so she swung through the forest in search of edible spots of colour. She found an apple tree, but the fruit were all small and only one looked potentially ripe. She found a berry bush, but it was a poisonous one. Finally she found a young milkfruit shrub, with a family of deer grazing nearby. She approached slowly, to not alarm them, and set the jars down to fill them with fruit.

The deer were wary at first, but her extreme disinterest with them prompted them to return to what they were doing soon enough. Normally she might have watched them, appreciative of the cuteness of the fawn, but she was not anywhere near awake enough to appreciate wildlife right now. Rayla sat for a few minutes to eat some fruit beside the deer, a little of her grogginess fading. She wiped grit from the edges of her eyes and wished that the sun weren’t so stupidly bright.

After a few minutes, she pulled out one of her last bottles of moonberry juice, and had a gulp of it to take the edge off her thirst. It would hopefully help her wake up a bit, but she wasn’t feeling optimistic about that. She exhaled, and rubbed her eyes again. Finally, she got herself up and headed back to bring breakfast to the other two.

There was still mess everywhere when she arrived, and she sighed, dropping a jar in front of each of them. “Here. Breakfast.” She informed them, and went to see what they’d done with her chosen bag.

“Oh, thanks! I’m starving.” Ezran said, pulling the lid off and immediately passing a fruit to his toad, who had been eyeing the jar hungrily the second it appeared.

“Thanks, Rayla.” Callum echoed appreciatively, popping open his own jar. He watched her curiously as she picked up her bag and started shoving the nearby items into it. “Is that the bag you’ll be using, then?”

“Yep.” She said, words still clipped and short. She was not the greatest of conversationalists when this thoroughly sleep-deprived.

“Oh, um, cool?” He offered, still trying to communicate with her, not yet privy to the knowledge that Rayla was emphatically not a morning person unless she’d had, at the very least, five or six hours of sleep before said morning. “Are you…okay?” He asked cautiously, and well, at least he’d picked up on something.

She forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Just tired. It happens.” She said, picking up the articles of clothing she’d filched from Callum’s drawers to set about folding them.

He shifted, eyes fixed curiously on them, and for the first time Rayla realised she hadn’t actually asked him permission to use his things, even if Ezran had assured her it would be fine.

She paused. “…Hope you don’t mind me borrowing these?” She asked, awkwardly, flapping one of his shirts. “Otherwise I’ve only got what I’m wearing.”

Callum instantly waved his hands emphatically towards the clothes. “No, no, it’s fine, go ahead.” He assured her, and perhaps in some attempt not to look awkward, took a bite of milkfruit emphatically enough that he just ended up looking more awkward. Rayla huffed lightly under her breath, amused, and kept packing her (his?) things away. “Um, thanks for getting the cube, by the way.” He said, after finishing the rest of that particular milkfruit. “Did you know it glows the right symbols when you put it near something magic?”

“The moon rune lit up when I found it, so yes, I assumed.” She said, and after a second, found it in her to attempt making actual conversation. “Did you get any of the other runes to light up?”

His face brightened a little, like a puppy she’d deigned to show some attention, and he nodded. “The sky rune lights up near the primal stone and the egg.” He informed her.

“And the sun rune lights up next to Bait.” Ezran added, and she looked over to find that between them, he and the toad – Bait? – had eliminated most of the jar. Maybe they should fill up again once they started moving. Her eyes wandered the clearing, looking for the waterskins, and found them looking fuller than expected, resting next to the tent pack.

Callum followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah, we went over to the river to fill those up. It’ll make things easier, having a waterskin or two. Honestly, I’d have had no idea what sort of thing to pack.”

“…Makes sense. You’ve never gone on huge cross-country hiking trips before. Or have you?” she shrugged, faux-nonchalant, and ignored the way her skin crawled at the idea they’d gone near the river without her.

“No, not really.” He admitted, adjusting his scarf. “I mean, we come here every winter, and we go to the Bay in summers, but we’ve always had guards and porters and cooks with us, so it’s not exactly the same.”

She raised her eyebrows, and smirked a little. “No, I’d say not.” She said, packing the last of her things into her bag. “When you travel for a long time, you need to think of things you need in advance. And leave lots of time every day for…camp things.” She propped the bag up on its bottom, starting to feel more alert as she considered how to concisely describe the basics of cross-country travel. “Setting up tents, eating, that sort of thing. Every week or so you have a laundry day.”

Ezran made a thoughtful noise around a mouthful of fruit, and Callum looked pensive. “I guess we’ll lose a lot of time to….just that sort of general maintenance thing. Setting up the tent, taking the tent down…”

“Yep. It eats a lot of time.” She nodded, and after a second, shuffled forwards to grab a fruit from Callum’s jar. “Another thing. When you’re in a group, everyone carries some group stuff. Sharing the weight, and all that.” She nodded to the tent pack. “I thought I’d take the tent most of the time, since you two aren’t used to walking all day yet.” She took a bite of the fruit.

Callum blinked at her. “Oh. Huh. Thanks? I mean, I’m happy to carry it too? It’s only fair.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Her lips quirked into a wry smile as she shook her head. “But trust me. You’re going to need a while to get used to the walking first.”

“My legs hurt already.” Ezran admitted, kicking the legs in question in front of him.

“That’ll get worse for a few days, stay mostly the same for a few more, and then eventually start getting better.” Rayla informed him wisely, from the lofty position of someone with personal experience.

“Great.” The boy sighed. “Well, at least it gets better eventually.”

“Eventually.” She emphasised. “And if we go up any of those mountains, I’m not making any promises about how your legs will feel then.”

“At least we have the tent?” He tried instead, optimistically. “It was pretty cold the last two nights, sleeping outside like this.”

“I am definitely glad we have the tent.” Rayla agreed, and stood. She gave the rest of the mess a long look. “…You can pack all of that up. I did it once, I’m not doing it again.”

Callum shrugged and put his jar of fruit aside to pack. “Sounds fair.” He said, gathering his things together. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Walk east.” She answered succinctly.

He made a face. “Is that it?”

“Walk east. Stay away from roads. Avoid humans.” She elaborated, rolling her eyes. “…Since your Aunt Amaya is meant to be arriving with who-knows how many of her battalion, we want to stay well away from the roads.”

He considered that, shoving his clothes into the bag, and then the group-things she’d allocated to him. “…Yeah, sounds reasonable.” He agreed. “We could walk along the river, maybe? It’s heading east, and that way we’ll have plenty of water.”

Rayla went briefly still, grimacing, and looked over in the direction of the nearby river. “…Best not. Someone might go by in a boat, and that’s the last thing we’d need.”

“Good point.” Callum followed her gaze to stare out towards the river as well. “It sucks that we can’t just go by in a boat.”

She made a rude, dismissive noise before she could quite contain it. “What? Nah, what would we need a boat for?” She looked away quickly, aware her voice had taken a distinct up-scale in pitch but, in her defence, she really didn’t want boating to enter their plans.

He looked at her strangely. So did Ezran. “Getting to Xadia faster?” he suggested, raising his eyebrows. “That river goes a long way. If we had a boat we’d probably save days of walking. I almost want to say we should walk along the river just in case we find one, but then we’d have to steal it, and that’s…not ideal.”

Rayla stared at him, silently.

He tensed a bit, suddenly nervous. “What?”

She warred with herself for a few long seconds, scowled, and looked away. In the end…she couldn’t justify staying silent. Not because she was afraid. “There’s a boat moored at the lodge.” She admitted, unhappily, crossing her arms. “It’s under guard, but…I could probably get it.” She’d known that stupid boat would be relevant somehow. It was just her sort of bad luck.

Callum and Ezran straightened, expressions brightening. “Really. That’s great!”

“Yeah, great.” Rayla mimicked, sarcastically, scowling back towards the river.

Ezran shared a look with his brother. “…Is something wrong?” The younger prince asked, frowning.

“Of course not.” She huffed, pulling her bag up. “I just love the idea of stealing a boat from a bunch of heavily armed humans in broad daylight! Humans with horses, who can chase us! Nothing could make me happier.”

Callum’s brows furrowed at her, and he stood, hefting his bag onto one shoulder, and then his sketchbook strap. “…Do you think the horses could catch up to us, on the river?”

“I’m not exactly an expert on horse speed.” She said after a moment, shoulders dropping a little. Finally, unhappily: “…Let’s go look at the river.”

They picked up their things and did, indeed, go to stare at the river.

“It looks…fast-ish?” Callum said dubiously, looking at it.

Ezran tossed a leaf in and watched it flow away. “I think the horses would get tired faster than the boat would, anyway, even if they did catch up to the boat.”

“Hmmm.” Rayla expressed, still incredibly displeased about the idea of travelling by water at all. Her skin crawled when she thought about it too hard, so…she tried not to think about it. “I think we should walk along the river a while, pick a good spot, and then I go to grab the boat alone.”

“And what, then you meet us downriver?” Callum nodded, picking up on the plan. “Sounds good.” He looked down-river and adjusted the straps on his shoulders. “…I guess it’s time to start walking, then.”

Ezran sighed sadly, and hefted the egg-bearing bag on his back. Rayla pulled the strap of the tent pack over her shoulder and set off determinedly along the river bank.

Around twenty minutes’ walk down the river, they made the fortuitous discovery of an overgrown ditch full of thorns along the riverbank. While this was annoying to walk around, it would certainly help to provide an impediment for pursuing horsemen. They debated stopping right there, but after a while walked a little further, finding a vaguely rocky area where the water was a bit shallower than usual.

“This river is called the Lune, you know.” Callum remarked, setting his bag down next to where Rayla had put her own things. “Can’t remember if I mentioned that.”

She scowled at it. “Of course it’s called the Lune.” She muttered, scathingly, and stretched to get the cricks out of her neck.

“What’s wrong with the name?” Ezran asked, perplexed. “I think it sounds nice.”

She checked her blades, flipping them out and then back again. “….It comes from the draconic word for ‘moon’.” She explained after a moment. “Seems a bit ironic, considering.”

Callum laughed, a short surprised ha. “I didn’t know that. I guess it makes sense, though – ‘lunar’ must come from the same word, right?”

“Yep.” She said, looking between their things and the river. “…Make sure you’re ready to go any second. There’ll probably be people chasing me, and ideally, I don’t want them to see you.”

“Er. Why?” Callum blinked at her as cluelessly as his brother.

“Because they’ll think I’ve kidnapped you if they see you with me, and I don’t need the kingdom after me any more than it already is.” She said dryly, and looked up at the trees. “…It’ll take me a while to get there, but if I’m gone more than a couple of hours…you’d best keep walking without me.” They both shot her alarmed looks, and she folded her arms, defensive. “Look, I’m going to try my very best not to get shot full of arrows, but I can’t make any promises, alright?”

Ezran, wide-eyed, scampered forwards to hug her around the middle. She stilled, surprised, but after a second of hovering hesitantly put her hands on his shoulders. “Please don’t get shot full of arrows, Rayla.” He said, worriedly, looking up at her. “You’re really nice. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“…I don’t want me to get hurt either, and you lot need someone to look out for you, so I’ll do my best.” She said after a moment, smiling reluctantly as her developing fondness for the little prince prodded its way onto her face. He really was a good kid. “Stay put, and stay ready. I’ll be back in no time.” She gently detached his arms from her, and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

Callum was watching somewhat inscrutably, but he did look concerned as she turned to glance at him. “…Be careful.” He said, fiddling with the strap of his sketchbook. “I don’t want you to get hurt either. If it’s too risky, just come back without the boat.”

“I’ll see if I can beat them up and break their bows first, or something.” She shrugged, shot both of them a smile, and turned back westward. “I’ll be back.”

She gave them a final glance, and ran off into the forest.

As much as she’d originally intended it in jest, the more Rayla stared at the human troops from the vantage of her tree, the more she thought it would be a good idea to beat them up and break their bows before she took the boat. She squinted at the armoured shapes milling about the lodge, trying to gauge the sturdiness of the bows, as well as their numbers. Eight humans seemed present, and six of them were armed with bows, which was a much higher number than she’d have liked. She could deflect a certain number of incoming arrows, but six in the air at a time was a lot to contend with.

She inspected the horses, too, noting that only four of the sixteen seemed fully prepared for riding. The rest had been made bare of their tack and armour, and were even now being brushed down by two of the eight visible humans. That was good. Fewer horses at the ready meant fewer riders in pursuit.

For good measure, she had a good long look at the tents in daylight, too, committing to memory what they were meant to look like when pitched. Surprisingly similar to the tents she was used to, at first glance.

Eventually, Rayla couldn’t put off the task any longer, and with a sigh slunk around the rooftops of the lodge, debating where to strike first. If she could take out a few humans first without the rest being aware, it would make things easier. She’d just need to wait for an opening.

Two were taking care of the horses, within full view of the river and the commander. They did not have bows. The commander was talking with two soldiers who looked recently returned from patrol, and all had bows. Three were posted by the bridge over the river, and they all had bows as well. None of them were especially well-positioned for stealth-takedowns, nor looked likely to be changing that any time soon. Except possibly the guards giving a report. Maybe they would move off elsewhere when they finished?

She watched for several minutes, but whatever the commander and the patrolpeople were talking about was evidently just…taking a while. Was it worth waiting? Were these humans likely to be skilled enough to be that cautious? If they’d been General Amaya’s people – well, if they’d been General Amaya’s, she’d have given up the boat heist from the start. But if these were as good as the average Crownguard she’d encountered at the castle, she’d probably be fine. Probably.

…Oh well. Nothing else for it.

She rolled her shoulders, flipped out her blades, and crept along the rooftop. If she managed an especially good jump, she could take the commander and the patrollers off-guard. It would be the archers at the bridge she’d have to be particularly wary of.

Rayla took a breath, exhaled, and then jumped off the roof.

The commander saw her coming and opened his mouth to shout; fortunately, the patrol guards in front of him didn’t have enough time to react. She landed behind them and kicked them solidly in the back of the knees to knock them down, one and then the other, and then slid easily past the first thrust the commander made with his sword as he drew it, tangling her own arm and blade around the inside of his until she had the perfect leverage against his elbow.

She pulled; the commander made an outraged noise of pain, and a slight twist of her arm saw him disarmed. Not wasting a second, she kicked his legs in as well, grabbed his bow from his back, and cracked it over her knee.

A whistling sound-

She snapped her head to the side and rolled away, three arrows whizzing past, as well as the patrolpeople who had by now picked themselves up to lunge at her, thoroughly over-committing themselves to the attack and barrelling straight into the space she’d just vacated. That was practically asking for her to attack them from behind, so she gladly obliged.

Rayla tore the bow from the first woman’s back and broke it over her head with two hits, the first cracking the bow and producing a loud clanging on the helm, and the second knocking the helm off and breaking the bow. The woman didn’t seem out of commission from that, sadly, and whirled around with a yell of anger and a hand shooting to the blade at her side.

Rayla did not let her complete the motion; she stepped aside, locked her elbow around the woman’s wrist, and broke it in a quick clean snap, provoking a half-strangled shriek of pain. For good measure she used her position to step under and into the guard’s centre of gravity and flip her from her feet with quick, well-practiced ease. She landed in a clatter of metal right in front of the other guard, who had managed to draw her sword, and very clearly intended to use it.

She smirked, and rolled to the side to clear some space and dodge the next volley of arrows from the bridge. Rayla finally deigned to use her own weapons, meeting the second patrolwoman’s sword with two of her own, then slipping easily through her guard to brutally slam the hilt of one weapon down on her opponent’s elbow; once, and her arm dropped with a shout, twice, and the sword fell from numb fingers. Rayla grabbed the stunned woman by the back of the cloak and pulled her down, snatching her bow away and absconding with it in the direction of the bridge-archers. She pulled the bow-string off as she ran and discarded the ruined weapon. Three down.

The horse-tending soldiers had by now got their act together, and the injured commander and patrolwomen were both staggering her way with admirable determination as well. Rayla dodged around the horse-tenders in her way in quick slide-spinning motions, and redirected the motion of one of them to send him stumbling into the other.

She ran straight at the remaining archers, all of whom were looking distinctly alarmed by now. They lowered their bows, and one managed to do it in a timely enough fashion to reach for his longsword, but it was distinctly not enough. She disarmed the faster man with laughable ease, flinging his sword into the river, and when the second man lunged at her all she had to do was step out of the way and push him a bit for him to fall on his face. The third archer, who’d been incoming with a mace, stopped short as her comrade fell at her feet.

Really, there was so much you could do when people practically invited you to mess with their balance.

She divested the fallen man of his bow and hit the mace-wielding woman over the head with it, ducking to the side to avoid retribution from her and her fellow. The soldier grabbed it, shouting something with outrage that Rayla didn’t bother to parse. She grinned, plucked the bowstring off, and slipped around her to take her bow too. She threw it off the bridge, spun behind its owner, and kicked her knees out from behind. That only left the bow of the first archer of the three – and it only took a few more seconds of fast-paced ducking and weaving to divest him of his, too.

The variously-injured humans she’d left behind her were all charging towards the bridge, none of them sufficiently impeded as to be unconscious or unable to stagger angrily in her direction. She assessed them all in a quick second – the biggest threat was the commander, who had one arm out of commission but looked to be ambidextrous. The horse-tenders were also in very good shape, since all she’d done to them was knock them over.

One of the horse-tenders was closest; she ran out to meet him, dodging out of the way of his strike and using his arm as a springboard to jump up and whack him in the head with the base of her blade. He staggered backwards, stunned, and she backflipped off of him, converting her other blade to its hook-form with a flick of her wrist. When the other horse-tender reached her, she stepped to the side and let his own momentum hook him by the throat, protected from fatal injury by his armour but definitely taking an uncomfortable blow to the front of the neck. He made a choking, gurgling sound as she disengaged, flicking the hook back into a sword.

Then she spun away to meet the commander.

When he wasn’t taken totally off-guard, he was actually pretty decent. Definitely better than the others, and this even with his presumably non-dominant hand. He was holding the other one carefully at his side. She’d at least sprained it, possibly broken or dislocated it.

She met his blade with one of hers, and after exchanging a few easily-parried blows, she slipped under his arm and got all up in his space to use a combination of his outstretched arm and the side of his neck to send him careening off his feet, landing heavily on his back.

Rayla’s eyes flicked to the rest of her adversaries, assessing.

None completely out of commission, but…thoroughly dodgeable.

She flipped her blades back and ran for the boat.

The advantage of doing this in a combat situation was that she didn’t have a lot of time or opportunity to think too hard about what she was doing. She sprinted over the small stone mini-dock thing, slashed the rope connecting the boat to the post, and jumped into it.

Her stomach lurched horribly the second the boat rocked under her feet. She shuddered, caught off-guard for a second, and then managed to steady herself enough to kick the boat away from the side. The river took it quickly into its grasp, and Rayla watched the outraged humans at the banks to see what they would do.

“Follow her!” Shouted the commander, which was indication enough of his intentions. Rayla observed, trying very hard to focus on the humans’ actions rather than what she was standing on and how deep the river was, and waited.

The river was quick. Quicker than she’d expected. Quick enough she couldn’t help but be alarmed at its motion. In seconds the boat was passing under the bridge, in half a minute it was almost clear of the lodge. She could see the four ready horses being mounted. No one seemed to have spare bows, which was a mercy; her work had paid off. By the time she heard the horses whinnying and the hooves hitting the ground, the lodge was out of sight, and her escape was well under-way. She stayed standing in the boat, swords at the ready, eyes fixed on the banks up-river.

After around a minute she saw the horses in pursuit. They didn’t seem to be approaching all that fast. Perhaps they were running nearly at the speed of the boat, but she had enough of a head start that they were certainly falling behind. Hopefully the distance to the princes, as well as that convenient ditch, would ensure they wouldn’t be able to catch up.

Rayla sighed, and breathed, and tried not to think about the water rushing past so very close to her.

After a minute or two had passed, she managed to start thinking analytically about the situation. When she found the boys, she’d need to pull the boat over, somehow. She eyed the rope she’d cut, and wondered if she could grab it and anchor it to the riverbank herself. That seemed easier than trying to figure out how those paddle-things were meant to work in a fast river. She kept one eye on the bank behind her and one on the bank ahead, tense from the fighting and nauseous from the motion of the boat, but so far she was at least managing to control her fear response.

She waited a lot longer than she’d have preferred before she finally saw the ditch coming up on the side, and knew that Callum and Ezran had to be near. The horses had fallen far enough behind them that she could hear them in the distance, but not see them.

They could do this.

She saw the boys on the bank before they saw her, little specks in the distance. She raised her fingers and produced a loud, piercing whistle that echoed along the water; their heads raised instantly, and she saw them scrambling to their feet and for the bags.

Rayla took a deep, steadying breath, and then another one, and moved over to the side of the boat to grab the rope.

The river wasn’t too wide here, and they’d picked a shallower area for the meeting point. It should be fine. It would be fine. She wouldn’t drown in water this deep even if she fell in, and she could swim anyway, so it – it was fine. It would be fine. She ignored the way her pulse was thrumming unhappily in her throat, and breathed, and prepared to jump.

With several metres to spare, she leapt for the river bank, rope wrapped twice around her arm to brace it. She dug one of her blades into the bank and pulled the boat inwards, panting not entirely from the effort.

“Rayla!” The princes exclaimed, in chorus, rushing over to her.

“Into the boat, fast.” She ordered, voice tight, and jerked her chin towards the damnable thing. “We’re being chased.” She finished pulling the boat in, and stabbed the rope into the earth with her blade, a temporary tether. She grabbed the nearest bag, the tent pack, and tossed it in, watching like a hawk as the boys stumbled with their own bags over the edge of the boat. Then there was only her pack left to grab, and she swung it over her shoulder, pulling her blade from the ground and pushing the boat away from the bank and back into the water.

She hopped unhappily aboard in the next second, noting with some relief that Callum and Ezran were already operating the boat’s paddles and she didn’t have to worry about it.

“Phew!” Callum exclaimed, sounding exhilarated, dropping his bag and sketchbook into the bottom of the boat in a brief pause in his paddling. “I can’t believe you did it!”

“Of course I did it.” Rayla grumbled, settling as deeply into the hull as she could in hopes it would prevent her from having to look at the river. “Those humans were hardly elite forces.”

“Er. Good to know?” Callum tried, looking suddenly alarmed. She eyed him, and after a second he straightened and added “Er. You said they’re following us? Are they all…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“Should be four of ‘em on horses. They’re slower than the river, so if we keep going, we’ll be fine.”

“Horses can’t run all out for long before they get tired.” Ezran put in, matter-of-fact. “They’ll have to stop soon.”

She waved towards him with a nod. “Well, there you go.”

“…How many people were there? When you got the boat.” Callum asked, after a second, still looking uncomfortable and shifty. Rayla stared at him flatly.

“Eight.” She said, and watched him squirm for a couple of seconds before rolling her eyes. “I didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you’re worryin’ about.” The way he flinched was answer enough. She looked away, vaguely irritated. “Broke a few arms, maybe, but don’t you worry. No dead humans on your princely conscience.”

Callum laughed nervously and very conspicuously turned to pretend to be occupied with the paddling. Ezran wasn’t bothered, and even rolled his own eyes at his brother. “Thanks for not hurting them too bad, Rayla.” He said guilelessly, as if he’d never expected her to do anything else. “I knew you wouldn’t, even if Callum was worried – but thanks anyway.”

She ignored Callum’s spluttering and glanced briefly at Ezran, interested. His faith in her character was nice and all, but a little confusing. She knew that Moonshadow elves were meant to deal as little death as possible to achieve their missions, but if they knew that, she’d be very surprised. Even other elf assassins didn’t always operate with the same creed. “…You’re welcome, Ezran.” She said, offering him a small smile, and looked back the way they’d come.

Still no sign of the riders, and she couldn’t hear them, now.

Still, she tried to focus on staying alert for signs of a threat. It kept her occupied.

Not for long enough, though. Eventually, the lack of action allowed her blood to settle, which allowed her to feel the full force of the rocking and jostling and swaying of the boat, which made her feel sick, which made her even more conscious of the sound of the water and the smell of the water all around her, and it was just – ugh.

She crawled into the bottom of the boat and vegetated there.

Rayla….did not look pleased. In fact, she looked somewhere between angry and nauseous. Or maybe she was nauseous and angry about it. She was hunched in the bottom of the boat next to the bags, seeming as if she were making an earnest attempt at retracting her head into her body like a turtle. After a while, she made a low, groaning noise of discontent.

“Uh. Rayla? You doing okay?” Callum asked, tentatively, after a few seconds.

“Absolutely.” She answered, flatly, burying her face in her knees.

He exchanged a glance with Ezran, who didn’t seem any more convinced by this than he was. “….Are you sure?” His little brother pressed, putting Bait down onto one of the boat seats. It was at least a pretty roomy one – they wouldn’t be sitting without leg room for hours.

“I’m doing great.” She groaned again. “I just love this boat so much. I’m so glad I stole it.” She retched, and shuddered, and huddled down again. “That’s why I’m down here. To be close to the boat.”

“Do you get boatsick?” Ezran asked with interest, shuffling onto the floor to sit with her.

She opened her mouth to speak, gagged, and then managed to control herself enough to speak. “Why ever would you think that?”

Ez ignored the sarcasm. “Dad gets boatsick sometimes, when it’s at sea, but I’ve never met someone who gets sick on rivers before.” He informed her, and if anything, she looked even sicker at that.

“How wonderful for you,” She managed, and then shot upwards to vomit over the side.

Callum and Ezran winced, the splatter of sick hitting the water both visceral and disgusting to listen to. After a second of hesitation, Callum stepped down from the oar and crouched beside her to rub tentatively at her back. She stayed hunched over the side of the boat, eyes closed and hair hanging in front of her face, for a good while, and groaned intermittently.

“Do you want some water?” he offered, after a minute, and at the words, Ezran went to scramble around in the bags for the waterskin.

She raised her head slightly to glare at him, moving a hand to wipe at her mouth. “Great. More water. That’ll definitely help!”

He rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. Yeah, I don’t mean river-water. Although, technically, it is river water, but anyway-” He accepted the waterskin from Ez, offering it to Rayla. “You can wash the taste out, at least.”

She eyed it for a few seconds, then swiped out her hand to grab it. She took a swig and washed out her mouth, spitting it over the side, and shuddered again, before passing the waterskin back. “Thanks.” She said, begrudgingly, and inched slowly back into the bottom of the boat.

“Sometimes once you’ve been sick you feel better.” Ezran commented wisely, patting her sympathetically on the knee. “Maybe you’ll be fine now.”

“I’m sure.” She did not, in fact, seem sure. Rather, she was hunching back into the assorted bags as if maybe she could hide in them if she tried hard enough. Callum spared a second to feel a bit weird about her proximity to the dragon egg, but dismissed it easily enough – it seemed kind of silly to worry about her being near it when she looked so sick.

….Besides, technically speaking, she could have taken it and run off with it any time she wanted, really. It’s not like they’d be able to stop her.

Still.

Callum found it easier to ignore his persistent, instinctive distrust when she was looking this wretched, so that was something. He pursed his lips for a second, then went back up to paddle for a while.

In any case, no matter what Ezran had said on the matter, Rayla did not noticeably improve after being sick. Instead she went silent and still and tense, and every time he glanced her way her skin seemed paler, her expression more drawn. She wasn’t sick again, but she shuddered and gagged sometimes, and occasionally groaned. It seemed pretty horrible, actually – he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

Neither could Ez, apparently, because after a while he shuffled over to engage her in a rousing round of ‘I Spy’. It took him some prodding, but eventually he managed to convince her to raise her head and, you know, look at things, which was somewhat necessary to the game. Callum joined in when prompted, and among them they spied trees, a rock, a river, a bag, the sun, Bait, Callum’s sketchbook, an oar, a frog, a duck, and a patch of cattails.

At this last one, Rayla unexpectedly lunged out of the boat to grab a handful of them and cut them free with one of her blades, the speed and efficiency of the motion vaguely alarming after how long she’d been motionless. She returned to her previous position plus one large bundle of cattails, looking distinctly nauseous again, and offered as explanation “They’re edible. If you cook ‘em.”

After that Rayla declared that she was done spying, and resumed vegetating in silence.

And, well, there wasn’t much to be done for that. He and Ez shrugged, and went back to operating the oars between rounds of idle conversation and travel-games. Rayla at least seemed to be listening, so maybe it was helping to distract her, but who really knew. She just looked…pale. And distinctly unhappy.

In the end, he couldn’t take more than about an hour of it before he suggested they pull over to the river bank for a break on land. She seemed so pathetically grateful at this that he couldn’t help but wonder how bad, exactly, the boat trip was for her.

He and Ez paddled the boat over to the river bank, where Rayla found her legs and stabbed one of her swords into the ground, tying off the boat’s tether to its hilt. When this was done she collapsed onto land with almost palpable relief, muttering something that sounded like “sweet, sweet land” into the grass.

Ezran apparently elected to take the backpack with the egg in out of the boat for their break, which seemed pretty sensible, and he sat beside her in the grass with sympathetic concern. Callum joined him, taking his own bag with him, and after a second commented “So boat travel really takes a lot out of you, huh.”

“Really?” She mock-gasped, rolling over onto her back and staring up at the sky. She had a leaf in her hair. “I never would have noticed!”

After a second of hesitation, he tapped his hair on the corresponding location. “You’ve got a-“ He gestured meaningfully, and she blinked, sat up, and reached up to pull the errant foliage from her hair.

“Thanks.” She said idly, and after a moment, pulled herself to her feet. She was already looking less pale. “Who’s got the fruit jars? I think I’ll go stretch my legs, see if I can find some lunch.”

They removed the remaining milkfruit from Callum’s jar before passing them over, noting that they’d got a bit squished and the jars were now a bit messy. “Maybe we should wash them out?” Ezran suggested, holding one up.

Rayla shook her head firmly and plucked it out of his hand. “Nu-uh. This is my break away from water. So I’ll be spending it away. From water.”

Ezran squinted quizzically. “But it’s just boats that make you sick, right? There’s nothing wrong with the river.”

“No reason not to rinse out the jars when the river’s right there.” Callum commented, watching closely now. There was something…something here, nagging at him, like a detail he’d noticed but hadn’t quite understood yet.

She went very still for a second, and then bent to retrieve the other jar, which Ezran had extracted from Callum’s bag. “…I’ll be back in a bit.” She said, stiffly, and absconded into the treeline.

Ezran made an interested noise as she went. “That was weird.” He said. Bait croaked loudly, and his tongue shot out to grasp a handful of the mushy fruit.

“…Yeah.” Callum frowned, trying to get his head around whatever it was he’d noticed. In the end, he couldn’t quite piece whatever-it-was together, so he sat with Ez and engaged in the creation of a daisy chain while they waited for Rayla to return. Both his head and Ezran’s were adorned with flower crowns by the time she got back, a third one eaten by Bait, and a fourth in progress – though this was swiftly put aside when she arrived in favour of inspecting what she’d found.

It was mostly green stuff. Leaves, some herby-looking things, and what looked weirdly like thistle flowers. “I was expecting more berries.” Ez said, looking at the jars. He sounded disappointed.

Rayla rolled her eyes and dropped the second jar, which did have more tempting colour in it. “There’s some gooseberries in there. But we can’t live on only fruit, you know. All those plants are edible. They’re better cooked though, so we can sort something out with a campfire later on.” She sat down and raised an eyebrow at the two of them. “So, what’s with the flowers?”

Ez perked up. “We made daisy chains!” He declared proudly. “But we didn’t make them long enough to go around our necks so they’re flower crowns instead.” He held up the third one, still under construction, to demonstrate. “We’re making you one, too!”

She eyed it dubiously for a few seconds, but in the end couldn’t seem to withstand Ezran’s enthusiasm for long without a reluctant smile breaking over her face. “Cute.” She commented, in the end, and sat back to watch with tolerant amusement as Ez got hurriedly back to work with the daisies. Callum supplied him with the material, snapping off the flower stems as close to the earth as he could manage to allow more leeway for chaining them.

And so, a few minutes later, he and Ez had the interesting experience of trying to put a flower crown onto an elf. “Huh.” Ez remarked, as Rayla huffed amusedly and bent her head to be crowned. “I’ve never tried to put a flower crown on someone with horns before.”

“I’d be very surprised if you had.” Rayla commented dryly, and Callum shuffled forwards to help, taking the clumsy crown from his brother with delicate care.

“Here, Ez, just sort of hook it around – there.” He settled the daisy chain around her head with a lopsided smile, sitting back to inspect their handiwork. “Looks good.” He declared, and Rayla carefully raised her head again.

The white flowers with their yellow centres looked interesting, on her white hair, settled carefully around her horns. He’d even say it suited her. “I’ll take your word for it.” She said, eyebrows raised, and Ezran beamed at her.

“Now we all match.” He proclaimed, evidently satisfied. Goal accomplished, he promptly went to investigate the gooseberries.

With all the flowers and the food and the pleasant riverside break in the sunshine, Callum’s earlier nagging feelings about Rayla and the river had entirely slipped away. Up until he commented that they should probably get going soon, and she went still and stiff, and glanced out at the water with a strange look on her face. Like dread, almost, or anticipation, or reluctance. Or maybe all three at once. And then she took a little breath, like she was steeling herself, and stood up.

Callum’s head tilted as he observed all this, his impressions clicking into place in his head with a thought-fast flash of intuition. “Oh,” he realised, out loud, and the others turned to look at him. “Rayla, are you scared of water?” Ezran blinked, startled, but Rayla’s reaction was more interesting.

She tensed as soon as the words left his mouth, in a very telling way, and opened her mouth as if to protest – but then shut it again without saying a thing.

“Ohh, that makes sense.” Ezran said, sympathetically, and stepped up next to her. “No wonder you were having such a hard time.”

She gritted her teeth and strode determinedly towards the boat, turning to gesture them sharply into it. “Being scared of water is a stupid idea. Just because boats make me sick -” She broke off, muttering something darkly, and Callum noted that she hadn’t actually denied anything. Yeah, he was pretty sure he was right. And wasn’t that something? Someone as crazily talented and strong as Rayla being afraid of something as common as water – he’d never have expected that. “Get in. It’s time we got going.”

Callum and Ezran glanced at each other, and shrugged, before grabbing their things and obediently heading for the boat.

Once they were all aboard, Rayla pulled the boat’s tether from her weapon, retrieved the weapon itself, and jumped onto the boat. Her expression turned queasy the second she touched its surface.

Callum eyed her with new understanding, and stepped up to operate the left oar. “Come on, Ez, let’s give ourselves a boost.” He said, and together with his brother, they steered the boat back into the river’s grip.

Rayla sank into the bottom of the boat again, and didn’t say a word.

05.13.1001

From: Captain Camsun, Crownguard U12 Detached Operations To: General Amaya, Standing Battalion Border Operations Subject: Report of enemy action in the area

As ordered, my unit detached from duty at the Castle to report to the Banther Lodge and await the Princes. We arrived at approximately 18:00 hours on 05.12, and though we searched the premises and the surrounding area, the Princes were not to be found. We established a temporary base of operations on the grounds with difficulties that, in retrospect, are likely due to enemy action.

I regret to inform you that as of today, we have confirmed the presence of a Moonshadow elf in the area, and the Princes have not yet been seen. Reports from the Castle state that one of the last sightings of Prince Callum was by guards on the wall who witnessed him being chased by an elf assassin on the eve of King Harrow’s death. Word from Lord Viren, now crowned Lord Protector, is that the Princes are dead, and as yet, I see no cause to disbelieve it. We remain at this post in hopes that the Princes may yet arrive, alive and unharmed.

The Moonshadow elf we spotted was a young female, between 5’6”-5’9” in height, with white hair and pale skin and relatively short horns, matching reports of the elf seen chasing Prince Callum at the castle. This morning at approximately 10:45 she invaded the lodge grounds to commandeer the river boat that was moored nearby, injuring eight soldiers in the process, including myself. We have suffered no fatalities, but were entirely unable to prevent the elf’s escape, and must assume that she is using the Lune to expedite her return to Xadia. We attempted pursuit, but the speed of the river was more than our horses could match. I elected to call off the pursuit in favour of remaining at our post. I must offer my most sincere apologies for our failure to bring the elf to justice. I am sending a report to Kalsanis to alert them to the possibility of the enemy passing through in the next few days.

We believe that the assassin spent the night in the area. A tent was mislaid in the process of establishing camp, and while this was initially assumed to be due to human error, we have now made another inspection of the interior of the lodge and seen signs that it has been raided for supplies. I must conclude that the assassin stole through our defences in order to outfit herself for her journey. As we do not have an inventory for the contents of the lodge, it is not possible to say with certainty which items were taken. However, signs of the elf’s footprints have been found in the dust in every room except for the master bedroom, along with indications that she entered through a window in the kitchen. I have attached a list of items presumed stolen based on impressions in the dust of various furniture in the lodge.

I accept full responsibility for this unit’s failure to apprehend the assassin or impede her actions. Once again, I offer my most sincere regrets and apologies for what has occurred here.

This unit will remain at this posting to await your command.

End chapter.

Timeline: This chapter takes place very late on 13.05 to a decent way through 14.05, days 3 and 4 since the start of canon. Subtract two days to determine how long the kids have been travelling.

Key canon divergences: no one has seen the princes, and a bloodthirsty elven assassin has been sighted where the princes should have been. The few people who have reason to believe Callum and Ezran are alive aren’t talking, and as a result…General Amaya is about to get some very bad news.

Fun fact: when Rayla disarms the moustachioed dagger guy in canon, it really reminded me of the weapons taking exercises I’ve done before, so some of the stuff Rayla does in the combat section is inspired by various throws and movements in aikido. Another fun fact: I had to count bows on my fingers through editing the fight scene to make sure I got them all.

#tdp #tdp fic #rayllum #tdp callum #tdp rayla #tdp ezran #piaj #happy season 3 confirmation day!#piaj chapters

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