Archive of Our Own ^beta

Firelight tossed flickering shadows over their campsite as it snapped and cracked in the quiet clearing. The rest of the day went without incident, and they settled down for the evening. Quiet plucks of a fiddle floated from Caprice, pausing when he stopped to scribble a note in his journal. His tail flicked against the dirt, betraying his otherwise subdued disposition. Resting nearby, Toa had stretched out on a bedroll. With his hands under his head and eyes closed, he appeared to be asleep.  

Felix lounged against a nearby log, stirring the fire with a stick aimlessly. He noticed the bard fidgeting. It was normal for Caprice to be restless, but not quiet. The silence needled him into action; he needed to do something. So, he aimed his nervous energy outward.

“What’s the matter, Caprice?” His tone was sharp, mocking as he dropped his makeshift fire poker.

The tiefling only huffed, hunching his shoulders as he marked down a few more bars. Felix smirked and leaned in to draw his attention. Toa opened an eye to assess the situation.

“Silence doesn’t suit you. I thought brooding was my thing. Or are you trying to be Toa? Stoic and boring.”

Caprice shifted in place, but refused to look up, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. The goliath raised his head to look at Felix, his eyes flashing a subtle warning.

Focused on the tiefling, Felix didn’t notice Toa staring and continued to press him. “Hello? Has our songbird gone deaf as well as mute? How are you going to entertain the masses now?”

“That’s enough, Felix,” Toa’s voice was quiet, but firm.

The wizard’s pulse jumped, realizing that Toa had been listening. He raised his hands with a shrug. “What? I’m only teasing.”

“Teasing ends when it stops being fun,” Toa said, voice like a weight dropped into the clearing. “Caprice wasn’t laughing.”

Ears turning a shade of pink, Felix glanced at the bard. He cursed inwardly when he saw the truth of Toa’s words. Caprice hadn’t smiled all evening.

He shifted in the dirt, uncomfortable. “You’re overreacting. I was just trying to pry him out of whatever mood he’s fallen into. He’s clearly sulking—”

Toa was already rising to his feet.

The barbarian was deceptively fast. A giant shadow fell over him before Felix could move. Toa’s hands caught his arm, and with humiliating ease, he hefted Felix over his shoulder. The wizard yelped in surprise, wriggling as he pushed against the goliath’s back but failing to budge. “H-hey!”

Caprice startled, nearly dropping his fiddle. “Toa—?”

“Bring my pack,” Toa simply said, striding away from the fire towards the dark edge of the trees. Caprice scrambled to do as bid, uncertain but unwilling to be left behind. Toa dropped his quarry to the grass just carelessly enough to show Felix he was serious. He knelt behind him, calm and unhurried. He held out his hand to Caprice, who followed behind.

“Rope.”

Felix tried to turn around, a confused twist in his stomach. “Rope? I thought you were punishing me?” he said around an uneasy laugh.

Toa ignored him as he accepted the coil from Caprice with a nod. He caught Felix’s wrists, firm hands pulling them together at his back. The rope wound fast and merciless with practiced ease. Felix made half-hearted attempts at resisting, knowing already it was a fight he couldn’t win. As Toa moved around and repeated the process at his ankles, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “Come on, Toa. You’re taking this too seriously.”

“Caprice,” Toa looked up at the tiefling, “find something to gag him.”

Caprice blinked. “Find… what?”

Felix squirmed harder. “Gag?!”

The goliath stared until Caprice did as he was told and fumbled about in the bag to produce a length of cloth. Felix opened his mouth to continue protesting, only for it to be jammed between his teeth. Toa tied the cloth snug at the back of his head, and his complaints died with a muffled growl.

He sat rigid, heart pounding as he scowled up at the two, shaking his head as his confusion turned to anger. The gag held his tongue, stifling his fury as he tried to shout. He felt ridiculous. Toa had gone too far. But as he watched him rise and usher Caprice back to the light, he sagged as he didn’t receive so much as a backward glance.

They sat at the campfire with their backs to him, casting him in shadow. Toa pulled Caprice to his side and leaned to murmur something in the tiefling’s ear. He nodded and picked up his fiddle once more, smiling up at the big man.

Felix worked his jaw, testing the cloth, but the gag wouldn’t slip. He shifted against the rope, but wasn’t surprised when he found no give in those either. The gag was humiliation. It didn’t hurt, but it left him defenseless, stripping him of his most powerful weapon — his words. The twisting in his stomach didn’t relent. This wasn’t fair. Toa was treating him like a child, wouldn’t even look at him.

He had to shake his head with that thought; it was nothing like what Caprice did to earn his ‘consequences’. He watched the two and told himself he wasn’t jealous, just indignant at the embarrassment of being left there alone.

Caprice played a tune, pausing now and again to say something to Toa, who nodded as he listened. He wrapped an arm around Caprice’s shoulders, played with his hair. The bard flicked his eyes over to Felix once. It was quick, uncertain, and as their gazes met, Felix tried to sneer. But Caprice just looked… guilty. As if it were all his fault.

Felix’s breath hitched. Toa’s hand took Caprice’s, and he tumbled into the goliath’s lap, laughter floating over to the wizard. The bard was visibly calmer, his tail swaying beside him as they hugged. It made his chest feel tight, craving that steadiness too. He wanted to sit beside them, hear the joke Caprice was telling.

The frustration that was clawing under his skin relented as his realization washed over him. Toa was right. He pushed too far.

The two of them bickered frequently, but it was usually light-hearted. It was something the two held in common, enjoying sparking conversation and prodding each other. But this time, Caprice hadn’t returned the quips, didn’t fight back. He’d only grown quieter. And Felix didn’t stop.

By the time Toa finally turned toward him, Felix’s defiance had vanished. Instead, hot shame weighed down his heart. He had his head hung low, breathing through his nose as he fought to keep tears at bay. Toa crouched and untied the bindings on his ankles and hands in the same methodical way he had knotted them. It was only when the gag slipped free, leaving Felix’s jaw sore and mouth dry, that he looked up at the goliath.

Toa’s face was stone, eyes studying him in the low light. Felix reached up and rubbed his face, his guilt magnified under the scrutiny. Words crowded his lips — barbs, excuses, sharp little shields. He swallowed them back until only honesty remained.

Caprice hung back, arms crossed hugging himself as he watched from the corner of his eye. Felix’s chest ached at how anxious he looked.

“I’m—” His voice cracked, rough from disuse. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I’m sorry, Caprice. I-I was out of line.”

The bard raised his head sharply, eyes wide. Then a small smile softened his face, relief flickering over him as the tension in his shoulders eased. The sound of Toa’s low hum above him was wordless approval. He extended a hand to help Felix to his feet, but left him there to return to the camp on his own.

Felix watched as Toa walked back and laid a steady hand on Caprice for a moment before returning to his bedroll. Caprice looked back at Felix, waiting for him to return as well. The wizard exhaled slowly, realizing how tight his own posture was. He sighed as he drooped a bit, but the pang of remorse was bone-deep and wouldn’t release.

Feeling the need to be productive, he cast his eyes around for some fuel for the fire. A few meager branches lay nearby, but they were dry. He gathered them before trudging back to the group. Sitting alone, he focused on breaking them up and sorting them by size.

Hesitating as well, Caprice crouched to Toa to whisper something Felix couldn’t hear. He kept his eyes away; his isolation was now self-imposed. Toa’s voice carried further though.

“… give him some time.”

Felix sank even lower. Caprice was worried about him, probably still feeling some sort of guilt. He remained silent and stared into the dirt. His mind replayed the events of the evening over and over, as he examined his actions from every angle. There was a boundary that he didn’t see; he wasn’t paying close enough attention. Toa had even warned him, but he carried on.

The bard put his things away and flopped down on his own blankets. Felix was physically exhausted, but his thoughts weighed too heavy to rest. Toa’s soft snore signaled he had fallen asleep. The wizard hadn’t moved, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

They were supposed to trust each other; that’s what made them work. Trust and mutual respect. Without that, the banter and fun meant nothing. But he jumped that fence because, what- he was restless and bored? Still riding the wave of their earlier fun on the road?

Felix threw some wood on the fire and found the stick he was using earlier to prod at it. The kindling crackled and popped pleasantly, and he let out a slow breath. Caprice glanced over, looking like he wanted to speak, then turned his head back to stare up at the forest canopy.

Maybe it was jealousy. Easier to pick on Caprice than to sit in silence and reflect like an adult. Felix frowned to himself. He cared for Caprice, loved the silly bard. What Toa and Caprice had was special, but it didn’t take Toa away from Felix. And it was just like Toa to know just what to do to put him in a position, literally, to step back and examine himself.

Felix heard Caprice turn over, perhaps trying to fall asleep as well. He tossed another bundle onto the fire, sparks flying. Sleep wouldn’t come easy. Tomorrow, he’d have to make things right — and the thought of it knotted his stomach tighter than any rope.

Caprice awoke to the bright smell of coffee brewing. He cracked an eye open, breathing it in. Behind him, he could hear movement, and he turned over to face it. “Am I dreaming?” he croaked.

Felix crouched down beside him, holding a steaming mug. The bard sat up, rubbing the sleep from his face. He took the cup with both hands, warming his fingers with it, and looked up at Felix. The wizard’s eyes looked tired, ringed with shadow. He nodded when Caprice took it and sat back down.

“I found some beans at the bottom of my pack. Probably stale, not sure how they got there. But at least it’s hot. That’s something that I can do.” Felix’s voice was low, but his hands were restless as he toyed with the kettle cooling beside him. Caprice thought he looked like he had more to say, but his glance at Toa’s still sleeping form next to them told him he was waiting.

The tiefling inhaled deep and sighed. “I can’t believe we still have coffee. I thought we used that up ages ago.” He spoke a little louder than a typical morning hush. Startled birds took flight from the surrounding trees, and he chuckled when the goliath stirred. Felix raised his brow at that, but couldn’t help a small smile.

Caprice beamed at his success when Toa shifted where he lay. “Coffee?” He drew himself up, and tilted his head when he saw the two of them were awake.

“Felix found some! It’s lucky, really— a little stale but—” The bard took a sip and nodded. “But after being without it? A treat.”

Toa nodded, grinning at his enthusiasm, then looked at Felix. The wizard nodded, looking down at his hands, feeling sudden pressure under those calm emerald eyes. He cleared his throat and took his hat off to worry it in his hands. The ball of anxiety in his chest tightened, and Felix had to swallow his fear of rejection.

“Uh, C-Caprice?”

He turned to Felix, tail coiling anxiously next to him.

“I was cruel last night, a-and I shouldn’t have been. I am sorry, truly,” he said, forcing himself to look Caprice in the eye despite his own nerves. “I crossed a line. And I owe you an apology too, Toa.”

Toa didn’t interrupt him, listening as he watched Felix.

“You saw what I didn’t, and I ignored you. I’m sorry.”

Felix swallowed, looking between the two. Caprice didn’t speak either, but his eyes softened before looking to Toa. The goliath hummed as he studied Felix, noting his haggard look. He could tell he had been up all night worrying about this, but he expected nothing less from his overthinking partner.

“We will make mistakes, Felix. What we do about them is what matters,” he said in his calm and reliable manner. “I accept your apology, Felix. Thank you.” Toa turned to Caprice.

“I-I accept, of course I do. Besides, a good man once told me we can always get better. That’s why we surround ourselves with good people.” Caprice smiled at Felix, who couldn’t help but chuckle in recognition and look to Toa.

The tiefling took another drink from his cup and made a face. “Yeah, this really is stale. Maybe we get some fresh beans at the next market we go through?”

Toa laughed at that, shaking the surrounding air. Felix let out a quiet breath. Caprice’s shoulders were looser now, his tail flicking lazily as he sipped. It was a small thing, but Felix noticed the restlessness had subsided. The weight in his chest eased a little, knowing he had put some of that spark back.