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Chapter Text

Azune approached the Hallowed Round as the noon sun was high in the sky, casting the clearing into beautiful shadow as Hal's friends and family worked on the theater. He was there to meet Murray and Hal to discuss something about the slaughter of House Davinos. Their abilities to speak openly grew less every day, with the Sundered Houses quietly tightening their grip. 

So they met when they could, out of the way and in their downtime. The scolding he'd gotten from his commander for walking off of patrols with Murray had been humiliating. He saw Murray and Hal sitting on the side of the little theatre farthest from where he'd come out, and raised a hand to wave. 

As he walked down to meet them, he caught sight of Shadia and a few of her friends working on drawings, papers spread out around them in a wide circle. 

He glanced at the drawings, a lot of them were of old heroes from stories (Hal had explained that to him, he wouldn't have known it at a quick glance himself) but his eye caught on a woman riding a horse into what was probably a fierce battle and he stopped.

"Seems like a carriage horse, there," he said, pointing at the drawing. 

Shadia startled. "Azune!" Then she beamed. "What do you mean?"

Crouching down, he picked up the sketch of the horse and considered it. "Well, horses that pull carriages in the city, like you see every day, would wear something like this, but a war horse wouldn't. And he'd have a blanket under the saddle, too," he explained. 

Shadia had never ridden a horse into battle, of course. She was only two years younger than he was, but there was an endless gulf between their experiences. Hal had been a good father in that way. She was softer in the face, brighter behind the eyes, but the more time he spent around her family, the more he liked her. If he'd lived a more normal life, he wondered if he'd be here sprawled amongst aimless 20-somethings who dreamed of being actors instead of trying to topple the government. "Oh! Can you draw?"

"...No, but I can…" he took the pen from her and created a crude approximation of what he meant. A leaner, faster horse was for battle -- sturdy carthorses were for getting around the city. "Does that make sense?" 

She nodded and he noticed one of her friends, a blond human girl, staring at him openly, a blush creeping up her neck. "The horses are the hardest part," the girl stuttered, and Shadia hummed in agreement. 

"It's more than I could do," he said. "It's going to be wonderful." 

"How do you know so much about horses?" Shadia asked, standing up and dusting off her skirt, walking away from her friends to steer Azune to her father. 

"You remember your uncle's friend Cyd, right?" he asked. 

"Oh, yeah, of course." Of all of Thjazi's numerous friends and collaborators across the years, Cyd and Thimble were the two greatest constants in Thjazi's life outside of his blood family, so he expected her to know him, maybe even better than the average fleeting acquaintance, however distantly he kept his criminality from Hal's life.

"He taught me when I was with the mercenaries," he said. "I was young, so at first they just made me watch the horses, which meant I learned a lot about them." He'd been a shrimp of a teenager with a dented sword standing in a copse of trees with agitated horses, giving them names and braiding their hair as they waited for the sound of battle to die down. Eventually, during the Rebellion, there were no horses left, killed or sold in the pursuit of victory, and he was still young, but there weren't enough men to give him an excuse to hide at the back of the fight any longer. 

"Oh. That's why he drove carriages," she mused. "You think Auntie Thimble will be able to save him?" 

"What do you know about all that?" 

"I listen, you know, when you all…" She leaned in to mime conspiratorial whispers and then laughed, elbowing him. "I'm not telling anyone, on my family's honor!" 

Azune chuckled too, sighing. She was cleverer than he was and it wasn't exactly like he could scold her. He didn't have that authority out here in this sacred space, among the legacy of the orcs. "If anyone can, it's Thimble. She's got Teor and Kattigan, too, and they won't let anything happen to her," he said, even if it felt like a lie coming up. 

"I've found your knight, dear father," Shadia joked to Hal as they walked up, bowing and gesturing to Azune with a flourish. "I'll leave you to it." With that, she winked and jostled Azune with her shoulder as she turned and bounded off to her friends, skirt swishing in the summer breeze. 

He turned to Hal and Murray after he watched her go, the small smile on his face melting away as he noticed Murray glaring at him. "Sorry about the delay. What's the news?" 

"Right," Murray drawled. "The security systems repelled it, but Bolaire thinks someone tried to bust into the museum last night. Two days after some Cormoray was there asking about where certain, I don't know, god-killing swords are?" 

"Shit." Instantly, plans overtook soft shared smiles and thoughts about long-dead horses he had once thought of as friends. "I can increase patrols in the area even without an official report." He shifted his weight from the front of his feet to the back a few times awkwardly. "Einfasen has sent men to the Guard. They're still being trained, and slowly, but our time is short." 

Hal swallowed and nodded. "I've been summoned by the Halovars. Their Scion is missing and as his…acting teacher…I expect I'll be interrogated." 

Azune sighed. "But no sign of any Tachonis in the city since the night Occtis was killed. It makes no sense." 

"I heard the King of Timmony would be in the city within a day," Murray said. "And I don't like that. People I deal with who travel from Argosia tell me some weird shit's happening in Timmony." Crossing her arms, she blew a braid out of her face, her mood still dark. "The Creed is trying to overthrow the King there. Which, fuck 'em, but the Creed ain't any better." 

"So we should keep an eye on this king when he gets here," Azune agreed. "I'll need to be in early tomorrow. I should head back to the city. Looks good out here, Hal." 

Hal nodded, looking more burdened by the day, but managing a winning smile nevertheless. "Keep pushing forward." 

"I'm headin' back too. Ain't suspicious for us to be walking together, they know we know each other," Murray teased, smirking at him in a way that made him wish he hadn't told her his boss thought they'd had sex in an alley. 

Just remembering it made his face feel hot. "I can walk you to your place," he agreed, and they started off towards the city. 

"Bye, Azune!" Shadia called with a wave. 

When he looked back down at Murray after turning and waving, she was scowling again, eyes darting away from his face. "A lot is happening," he tried. Murray's moods were hard to predict, even after years of knowing her. 

"We all gotta watch our backs. Not get distracted."

He hummed in agreement. "We'll find a weak point," he said, trying to bolster his own confidence as well as hers. 

"What were you talking to the kid about?" Murray asked nonchalantly. 

"She's only two years younger than me, I wouldn't call her a kid," he said. "Horses. She was having trouble drawing them for her mural."

"You some kind of horse expert?" 

"I know a few things. I wouldn't classify myself as an expert…" he trailed off. "It just made me think of things I learned with the Torn Banner, got nostalgic." 

Her eyes softened a little as she elbowed him. "I guess being a child mercenary sounds more fun than what we've got going on now, if ya think about it a certain way."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't change it," he said, stopping just short of what he really meant to say, which was "now I have you." Instead, he politely left her at the gate of her flat building and turned to walk back to the barracks on his own, wistfully watching the late afternoon bustle of the city. Murray had come into his life like a whirlwind, a completely different type of person than he usually spent his time with, but he found himself at his most relaxed when he had her around. 

✦

"Horses can be temperamental," Cyd told him. The Nama warrior was not quite a decade Azune's senior, maybe 25 in this memory, mane glossy black and pushed back from his face for fights. "Don't stomp over here like a moody little pissant."

"Temperamental?" 

"Like girls," he joked. "You'll spook them if you come on too strong," he explained, gently rubbing the mane of the chestnut horse he preferred. "You like girls?"

Azune, 15, had never actually thought about it. He liked his hammer. He liked when the older mercenaries talked to him like he had something to say. Sometimes when Kattigan punched him on the shoulder he felt a little hot under the collar. 

He pictured the last pretty girl he'd seen. Maybe Thjazi's sister in law, who wasn't fighting in the rebellion but she and her druids offered shelter from time to time. "I haven't met very many girls, but I think so." 

Cyd dug his knuckles into Azune's scalp affectionately as he squirmed away, the horses shifting and sighing at them as they tussled. "Well, girls, boys, neither, whoever you like, you don't wanna spook them. Treat 'em like a horse."

"Ride them?" 

Cyd burst into a fit of laughter. "You gotta stop listening to Kattigan. I mean… maybe when you're older that'll be part of it. But you trust your horse to carry you into battle or out of a bad spot, right? And you take care of it."

"So if I like a girl I could give her a carrot when she helps me out," Azune suggested, confident he knew what Cyd was getting at. 

"...Couldn't hurt, you know. I just meant trust them, but snacks never hurt your chances."

Chapter Text

It was cold and late and the watch shift was supposed to change. They had talked about it before the sun had gone down and Teor was supposed to take last watch, the final watch before sunrise, when they'd be on the march again. 

Azune was tired as he stumbled away from his post and towards Teor's tent, not seeing the older mercenary anywhere but hearing him talk low and steady inside the hide tent, unable to make out what he was saying or to whom. He was too tired to think much of it, pushing the flap of the tent open. "Teor, it's your watch --" he said, startling and suddenly feeling more awake when there was a flash of armor and claws and the tent flap was yanked closed again. He blinked a few times, trying to decide if he'd really seen black hair underneath what must have been Teor's arm. 

No. He was just sleepy. 

A moment later, he emerged from the tent, adjusting his belt and clearing his throat. "Azune."

"It's your watch," he insisted, rubbing his eyes. 

"A moment," he said firmly, draping an arm around Azune's shoulder and steering him towards where the tent he usually shared with one of the other younger recruits was already set up. 

Kattigan walked by them, tossing a glance back their way before settling into a low tree branch nearby. He should've been asleep; he hadn't pulled watch duty that night. 

"Yeah?" he asked, suddenly hoping he hadn't done something wrong, or worse, something to irritate Teor. Teor had a lot of sway among the Torn Banner, and if he bothered him, he could get booted out. 

"You should always knock. Even if it's not a proper door, announce your presence before entering anyone's space. So you don't…" He paused delicately and glanced behind him. "See something private. Or disrupt someone. It's important to respect boundaries." 

"Oh. Sorry. I won't do it again," he said dutifully. "Did I disrupt something?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Teor said hastily. "You are not in trouble lad, it's just advice," he continued, more gentle this time, giving him a light push. "Get some rest. Thank you for keeping watch." 

✦

13 years later, Azune considered the door to Murray's flat, balancing a dish in one hand as he raised the other to knock. It was a little awkward, but he managed, and the door flew open a second later, a shimmering Mage Hand waving him in. 

"You can just let yourself in, you know, I'm expectin' you," she told him as she closed the curtains, trying to circumvent anyone who might peek in or follow them. They got more paranoid and more careful the further into the conspiracy they got.  

It was luck that they were already good enough friends that it didn't look suspicious that they spent time together, which allowed Azune to pass messages between Hal and the rest of them, as he kept a safe distance from Bolaire and Murray. "It's polite to knock," he repeated. "You could've been… Changing?" 

Murray chuckled. "You scared of seeing me change?" 

"Not scared," he said, trying not to think about how her tone seemed like she almost wanted him to see her change. Or at least she wouldn't mind. He was reading into things. "Sorry, it's just one of those life lessons that got drilled into me when I was with the mercenaries that I never questioned." 

Murray flicked one of her monocles down from the brim of her hat as she examined the note he'd handed to her, passed to him from Hal. "Well, those mercenary types, they just didn't want some kid waltzin' in during their hankypanky, ya feel me?" 

"What?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he opened the box of pumpkin rolls he'd also been given when he'd been passed the note. "Oh, like I'd walk in on them during sex?" 

"You're telling me you never caught someone with their pants down?" she scoffed. "Somehow I doubt that."

Azune finished chewing the bite of the pumpkin roll. "I don't believe so... They mostly snuck off to pay for that kind of thing, I think. I just bothered Teor one night by not knocking --" he said, cutting himself off as the memory came back to him again in a sharp, awful clarity. 

"Teor? That handsome Nama guy from Hal's house?" she asked, curiously watching him. 

Azune remembered a few awkward days after that night, no battles to fight and Kattigan talking to him about sex… "Oh. I might've almost walked in on something." 

Murray started laughing so hard she was nearly wheezing, doubled over at the table. "Of course you did. Poor, sweet little Azune. With who? Just some camp follower or…?"

"I think it was Kattigan," he muttered, face going beet red as he shifted his chair closer to the table before hiding his face in his arms. "I can't believe I didn't see that." It was obvious, now that he thought about it, how in sync they always were in battle and in tactical conversations, and how easy they were with each other. Maybe he'd been too intent on trying to impress to really take in the scene. He had been young, then, and less observant, but now nights by the fire, Kattigan's torso draped over Teor's legs, seemed obvious. 

"Oh, that ranger? With the voice?" 

A petty sort of jealousy flared up in his chest at the sound of the interest in her voice. He wasn't going to begrudge her. Kattigan had always had that effect on people when he met them. He couldn't count the number of young rebels that Azune had mooned over that had fruitlessly turned their attention to Kattigan, even if he was nearly old enough to be their father. He should've been used to it, but Murray was his friend and not a teenager trying to woo a disinterested older man, so it felt somehow more real. No one sounded like that when they talked about Azune. "Yes."

"Unexpected duo…they're both so…" She shivered a little. "Big." She grinned at him, but he didn't return it, distracted by his own brooding thoughts. She liked big, of course she did. She wasn't going to be with someone who didn't match her personality. "Knowing that, I definitely wound up with the best falcon," she said, her voice teasing as she gently swatted his arm. 

He didn't quite register it, just nodding and looking away. 

"Here's a return note. I suppose leave it with Bolaire?" she said after an awkward pause, passing him a tightly wound scroll. 

Azune pulled himself out of his own head so he could take it, smiling at her. "Got it. Keep the pumpkin rolls." 

Murray broke another one in half and popped it in her mouth. "Gladly. Thanks for the snack," she said. 

He didn't mean for it to come out the way it apparently did, but he said "Shadia gave them to me," and couldn't help but notice how Murray frowned.

Chapter Text

"Well ain't you a gentleman," Murray teased him as he opened the gate out of her flat building for her. 

"Do you always have to make fun of me for it?" he joked back as they walked through the rain soaked streets, resisting the childish urge to stomp in a puddle after watching a brother splash his sister a few paces ahead of them. 

"Yeah, obviously," she said as they approached Hal's house. "You're so serious. Someone has to give you some shit." 

"I'm glad it's you," he said as he knocked, waited until he heard a Thaumaturgy "come in" and then opened the door, letting her go first before he went inside. 

He was sure he was imagining the slight flush in her cheeks when he looked back at her. 

Hal was in the back of the house, fiddling with a stack of maps, small glasses sliding down his nose. Somehow it only made him more handsome. 

Discussion of tactics and plans eventually mellowed into chat about plays and theater and things that Azune had trouble really following. Art wasn't his strong suit.

They drank a glass of wine and Murray was sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning into his space as she debated with Hal across from them. She was riled up about the new scholarships at the Penteveral. "Making people indebted to the Sundered Houses means they fight for those houses," she said. 

"You might be right," Azune said. 

Hal didn't look convinced. "Hard to say. I don't think everyone would feel that strongly about it. But you're right they might be banking on that…" 

They went a little quiet as Shadia padded down the stairs, and she scoffed at their awkward pause, fixing her own glass of wine. "I'm going to Uli's tonight to practice," she told her father. "She wants to do fire juggling." 

"Fire juggling?" Hal asked, exasperated. "I…I guess I can't stop you…please be careful." 

Shadia laughed, fond and relaxed. "I'll be safe. You worry too much." 

Azune thought Hal worried a reasonable amount, but Hal was the only parent he really knew, so he didn't have a strong frame of reference. He still enjoyed taking in the scene. The little moments of simple domestic life that he'd never experienced, but cherished nonetheless. 

"I'm going to head out," Shadia said a few moments later, putting on her coat. 

"You shouldn't walk by yourself after dark," Azune said automatically. "I can walk you there on my way back. Murray?" 

When he looked up, her face was stormy again, almost unreadable when she was usually so open for him. "I am capable of walking myself home. I need to talk out more of this Timmony shit or I'm not sleepin' tonight, so I'll stay a bit. Go on." 

Azune nodded, trying not to frown at her directly. There was no need for her to know that it bothered him when she went frosty like that, it was probably just a sensitivity he needed to work on. Murray ran through her moods fast and would be right back to normal the next day. It was probably just the wine bothering her. 

So he left Hal's, guided by Shadia in the direction of her friend's place. "You didn't have to walk me, it's not even that far," she said sheepishly, her green cheeks going darker. 

"Murray tells me I'm a gentleman," he said lightly. "Seems ungentlemanly to let you walk by yourself at night." 

"A gentleman rebel. Very cool and romantic," she said, her hands clasped behind her back. There was mischief in her eye, an expression that made her look so like her uncle. "So…Murray thinks you're a gentleman?" 

"I'm sure it's a thought other people have had, too," he said, confused. 

"Does she compliment you a lot?" 

"I…what's a lot?" he said. "She doesn't, really. She makes fun of me more often than not." 

Shadia was looking wistful as she thought about it. "So she teases you?" 

"If you want to call it that."

There was a long enough pause that he thought this conversation was over. "Do you have a girlfriend?" she pressed, walking backwards a few paces ahead of him so they could look at each other while talking, graceful and confident in every step. "Or boyfriend? Or --"

"I don't have anyone," he said hastily. "Why does that matter?" 

"Do you like Murray?" 

His face got hot immediately, entirely betraying his attempt to play cool in the face of Shadia's interrogation. "I --" He took a breath and steadied himself. "Murray is my friend and I enjoy spending time with her." 

Her face was victorious. "What are you going to do about it?" 

"Nothing. I have more important things to worry about than dating," he insisted as they came to a stop in front of a house that must've been Uli's. 

"Nothing is more important than keeping the people we love close!" Shadia said sternly. "Think about that on your walk back, Mr. Gentleman."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, frowning. He waited at the gate until Shadia went inside, seeing a gathering of people her age (their age, he thought with a touch of bitterness) waiting on the other side, briefly outlined in the light coming from the house. Then he turned and made his way home. 

"Dammit," he heard as he turned down a side street, turning in time to see Murray at the top of a small hill. "You get your way, then." 

"I can just stay a few feet behind you if you really don't want to walk with me," he said. "Seems silly, though."

"That'll look ridiculously suspicious to anyone around," she scolded. "Come on." She wasn't irritated at him anymore, now just frenetic and tired the way she always got when her mind was pulled in too many directions.

Azune didn't talk, letting her verbally bounce from thought to thought in his steady company instead, occasionally chiming in with a thought if she pressed him for it. 

Then he opened the gate to her flat building. She lingered for a second and so did he, but the conversation petered out. She was just looking up at him with that curious, always probing gaze, like she was trying to read him like her spellbook. A voice that sounded like Shadia told him he should just go for it, but he wasn't sure what it was. "...'Night, Azune."

"Goodnight, Murray." Then he turned and walked away, still trying to figure out what it was he was supposed to do. Maybe Shadia was right. But he'd never been good at this part. 

✦

"You know, the first step is to talk to them," Kattigan said. 

They were doing a perimeter check before the camp settled down for the evening, Kattigan rambling about something -- "was Teor giving you shit the other night?" "No, no, just told me to knock. Don't know why he was so on edge." -- but Azune was distracted, watching a gaggle of rebels around his age, giggling and socializing as they fletched arrows. "What?" 

"Girls. Or whoever. If you want to get something from them, you need to talk to them," he said, giving him a little shove. "You ever even kissed anyone?"

"Yes," he muttered, face getting hot. Kattigan was older, and cool. Everyone thought so, especially the younger fighters, and women wherever they went seemed interested in him even if he didn't notice. "I'm almost 16, I've done some things."

Kattigan put an arm around him. "Good man, good man," he said. "You don't have a single idea what to do once you get someone, do you?" 

Azune was silent, not wanting to say no and risk getting picked on even more. 

"Always be a gentleman," is what Kattigan said instead, tone surprisingly kind. "You figure out what they want and you do it. Ask nicely and most of 'em will tell you."

"Oh. That makes sense," he squeaked out. 

"With girls, you gotta make sure they get theirs before you even start trying to get in 'em, ya feel?" he continued. 

Oh no. Azune wanted to be swallowed by the earth. Dead Shapers below he didn't want to hear this. "Uh-huh."

"I've had a lot of luck with my mouth. It's not hard to learn, you just gotta listen to all those little noises they make and find the one you wanna hear over and over again," he said, oblivious to Azune's suffering. "But in a place like this, in times like these, never rule out the hands. Efficient, you know? Don't get too rough down there. They let you up their skirt, you treat 'em like they're doing you a favor and make it worth their while." 

Despite his humiliation, he was mentally filing away all of the advice for later. It did sound at least somewhat useful, he thought, despite how badly he wanted to stop hearing it. Maybe Kattigan was the right person to tell him all of this. "And for the love of Loza Blade's sanity, do not get anyone pregnant," Kattigan told him sternly. "Always pull out before you're done. Unless you're in her ass, then you're fine. But gods, who's got the time for that out here?"

"What in the fuck are you telling him?" Thjazi called from his own campfire, Thimble a bright dot of light by his ear. "Stop traumatizing the boy. Azune, what the hell is he saying to you?" 

"Always be a gentleman and finish in her ass?" he relayed, shoulders up to his ears. 

Thjazi choked on a loud peal of laughter, tapering off into hacking coughs. "Kattigan, you are something else."

Chapter Text

"Waste doesn't win wars," Loza told him, leaning on the handle of her battle-axe, wedged in the soft ground. She had a crossbow on her back, but she pulled it over her shoulder to show it to him. 

Azune wasn't sure what she meant as he ran his thumb along his own crossbow. 

"Normal circumstances, I'd give you a handful of crossbow bolts and set you to work practicing your dogshit aim," she said. "But we can't spare bolts right now."

"I'm sorry."

"Ain't your fault. March up to Dol-Makjar right now and find me a 16-year-old who can shoot a crossbow when someone's trying to kill them. I guarantee most of them will be worse at it than you." Two days ago, Azune had missed a shot so wide he was sure he'd hit one of his own men. He hadn't, but Loza had been less than impressed regardless.  

When he'd first joined up and he'd been placed in Loza's battalion, she had worked with him on his form and his weapons. Teor, Kattigan and Thjazi had done even more for him in the months since, with the older commander a little too busy for upjumped kids. "You've got to have confidence in it," she said, demonstrating how she held her own weapon. 

He mirrored her and she reached out to lift his elbow slightly. "Confidence."

"All weapons should feel like an extension of yourself," she continued. "You are what makes this deadly. If you weren't holding it, it'd simply be a chunk of wood on the ground with some metal in it."

He thought it'd still be a crossbow even if it was on the ground, but he'd discovered that asking people to clarify their metaphors was usually met with annoyance. "The most important lesson about shooting anything is to know when not to do it," Loza said, reholstering her crossbow and lifting her axe. "The second most important thing is don't miss." 

"What?" 

She smiled, adorned tusks flashing in the shifting sunlight as they walked through the trees, catching up to the others. "Never take a shot unless you're sure you can hit. The hesitation required for you to ask yourself if it will hit or not? That's a missed shot. You miss, your location is given away, your ammunition is wasted and your time is gone."

Azune thought that was good advice, and probably not just for shooting crossbows. "Right. Don't miss."

"Firing carelessly is how you lose, but there's a difference between patience and stalling. Understand?"

"I think so," he said, because he thought he did. Being a man of action was good, but being deliberate, decisive and careful was better. Maybe he was reading too much into that. Maybe she was just talking about crossbows. 

Never take a shot unless you're sure you can hit.

Maybe that advice wasn't for his daily life, Azune reflected. He had never successfully managed to ask someone on a date, for one. It wasn't something he was deeply interested in and when he was interested, he kept thinking of it as if he were firing a crossbow bolt onto a battlefield. Rejection was a wasted arrow. So he never did it. 

People had approached him and he'd said yes, but he'd never gotten to the part where he took the initiative. His last relationship, the longest one he'd had, had fallen apart in under two years. He worked too much, cared too much about things that drove other people insane, and "couldn't let go," whatever that meant. 

Still, Loza's advice had suited him well in most aspects of his life. In love, though, maybe he was better off listening to the bards and taking a risk. 

What was the worst that could happen?

"Well, she could stop talking to me forever," he told himself with a little shrug. 

There was that, though it didn't seem like something Murray would do, if he was being honest. 

So maybe he could just ask her. On a date. 

The idea still made his stomach clench uncomfortably. He could work his way up to that. Something simpler to start with. Murray flustered him in a way few other people did, but there was something comfortable about it. He was at ease around her even when he felt those foreign twinges of nerves in his chest, and he thought that was a sign of something important. He believed in signs; he had to. 

He was technically still on patrol when he found her, intentionally swinging his route more towards the Penteveral in order to catch her leaving, Horace falling several paces back when he saw Murray approach. "He still thinks we're --" 

He didn't want to talk about that. "Him and everyone else," he muttered, looking at his feet. 

Murray laughed, the joke lightening what had seemed upon approach to be a stern mood. "Well, gotta keep the ruse up so no one suspects us," she said in his head. 

He didn't want to think about that right now, the slippery slope from faking some kind of strange relationship so they could conspire and what Azune was fantasizing about when he was alone. No need to scare her off with dreams of her thighs around his ears. "My patrol is over in an hour. Should we get a drink by your place?" 

"Sure thing. We can debrief," she said, swatting him on the arm. She switched to speaking out loud, noticing they had been silent too long. "Always nice to get a visit, baby," she teased, shooting a wink over her shoulder before she took a side street that he knew led to her place. 

He changed out of his armor, not interested in the entire public house being aware that an Arcane Marshal was there, even if just socially. That was about the extent of attention he paid to himself, refastening his braid on his way out the door and making the walk towards Murray's. 

She was sitting at the bar sipping a glass of wine when he sat next to her, grinning over at him and waving at the matron of the place to bring him a glass. He didn't even pay attention to what she was ordering. "Long day? You never wanna drink after." 

"Average day," he said. "I just thought I hadn't seen as much of you in the past couple of weeks as I usually do." That sounded neutral, but he thought it carried the right weight. I wanted to see you. I missed spending time near you. "You seemed annoyed when I saw you earlier. Did something happen with the new dean?" 

"Of course it did," she said, delighted to launch into a story about the new dean and how the school was inevitably going to get absolutely fucked, to use her words, finishing her wine and signaling for a new one without breaking eye contact with him. "I just can't with this shit. They're being so flagrant!" 

It was audacious, but Thjazi had once told him that audacity was for poor people. Rich people could just do whatever they wanted and it'd be accepted as perfectly normal. "Maybe that means they're nervous." 

She traced her quill-tip nail across the rim of her wine glass. "Maybe. Not the best place to discuss it. Anything else going on? Been to Hal's lately?" 

"I stopped by the other week. He's been fairly busy," Azune noted. "But I left a note with Shadia for him." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Y'all are pretty buddy-buddy," she said with a strange, leading tone. "I guess she is closer to your age than most of the folks ya hang around." 

Unfortunately, mentioning Shadia made him think about their last real conversation and her insistence that Murray liked him, and that connected to why he was here, with her right now. His cheeks were heating up. "She's nice," he managed. 

Murray's eyebrows knitted together for a moment before she moved on. "The theatre's really on its way." 

"It is." He sipped the ale Murray had bought for him, feeling his heart rate going down. "You know, I was actually talking to Shadia about --" he started, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

"You need a refill," someone interrupted, stepping over and leaning in towards Murray, separating them with his body. "Is he not taking care of you?"

Murray smirked at the attention, a smile he'd never seen before, looking at the tall half-orc with obvious interest. Well, okay, he'd seen that face before once, when she'd briefly met Kattigan. Dammit. "I take care of myself, thank you," she said and he was hopeful that it meant the conversation was over and he'd leave. "But I'll always take a drink from a polite stranger." 

Azune could feel his jaw clenching, and he pulled some coins from his pocket to pay for his drinks as the intruder flagged down the barkeep. As he finished the drink, he stood up from the bar, creating a little distance between them. "I should go."

"Oh, already?" Murray asked, frowning. 

Jealousy was burning in his chest and he wasn't going to be able to maintain his composure much longer, so he turned. "Early morning. See you around," he said, fleeing before she could ask any follow-up questions. 

So that was a pretty definitive answer, he thought. She didn't see him like that. How could she if she was willing to flirt with someone right in front of him? By the time he made the walk back to his sleeping quarters, he had calmed down about the prospect. It was fine. She was a grown woman who could do what she wanted and if that meant she didn't like Azune the way he liked her, he didn't need to hold that against her.

Chapter Text

Azune was off-duty and trying to buy a snack at a street vendor when he heard his name. Turning, he saw the tall, orcish frame of Shadia Fang, splitting off from a few friends to walk over and say hello, beaming at him. "Good afternoon, Shadia," he managed as he handed over his coppers to the vendor. 

"Are you off work?" she asked as he moved out of the line for food. 

"Yes. Not working at the round today?" 

"Hanging up flyers, but we were finishing up," she said, waving off her friends, who disappeared into the crowd. "Mr. Bolaire came by yesterday. He helped with some of my designs," she said, leadingly. She was always trying to get him to tell her the secret things that they discussed during their meetings, though he knew she didn't think he actually would. 

"Ah, I haven't seen Bolaire in some time," he lied easily, having met him at the museum two nights ago. He offered her some of the kettle corn and she took a few kernels. 

"What about Murray?"

She had a look he was all familiar with, a look Thjazi would get when something occurred to him. He knew this meant she was unlikely to let go of this line of questioning until she was satisfied with the answer, the way her uncle had been when Azune had been young. So he had to sigh and say, "I did see Murray recently. But not like that." 

"Still working up the courage?" Shadia pressed, stealing a few more kernels as they walked, loosely in the direction of Hal's home. 

"No. She's not interested," he said sternly, hoping the topic dropped. This was what people his age talked about; he knew that, but he still didn't enjoy sharing himself with others. He never really had. "That was clear when we saw each other. We'll just stay friends and that's fine." 

You can never have enough friends, Thjazi had once told him. 

"She told you she wasn't interested?" 

"I --" He took a breath and sighed. "Not word-for-word." He was wilting under Shadia's slightly quirked eyebrow, the stern but kind air that she inherited from Thaisha, and he couldn't stop himself. She was all the most intense parts of her older relatives wrapped in an unassumingly friendly package. "She accepted a drink from another man while I was sitting right there," he muttered, cheeks hot. 

Shadia blinked. Then she sighed. "Did she go home with him?"

"I left. I don't know." 

"Don't you think maybe she was just trying to make you a little jealous?" she posed. "Maybe she was trying to see if you'd react to her flirting."

Murray did like to try and get a rise out of him. 

"Why would she do that?" 

"Maybe she isn't sure you like her in that way and wanted to see," she theorized. "Maybe she just likes to stir up drama." They were turning on Hal's street and she was slowing down so she could keep talking. "But I think you need to, I don't know, talk to her directly."

Azune glared at her with no real heat and sighed. "You remind me of your uncle sometimes," he scolded. "You see too much."

Shadia beamed, taking it as praise it wasn't meant to be, leaning on her father's gate. "You've a keen investigative mind, Mr. Arcane Marshal, just think about it!" 

Azune did think about it. Murray's glittering smiles and sudden shifts in moods and how sour it became when he -- "Oh no."

"What?"

"She gets irritated every time I mention talking with you…" He trailed off. Could Murray have been jealous this whole time? It seemed counter to her: confident and loud and never holding her opinion back. 

"Oh my goodness," she said, her cheeks darkening. "No offense, you're not my type," she said, patting him on the arm. 

"You're not my type either," he said, breathing out a laugh. "I didn't -- I thought she'd just ask because that's how she is," he said. "What do I do now?" 

"I think you've got to figure that one out for yourself," she said. "Have a good night, Azune," she added with a wink, walking back to her house and leaving him alone as the sky began to darken. 

"What do I do now?" Azune had asked Thjazi. He was almost 17, now, and lost, like their rebellion. 

The rebellion was over, and the rebels were given clemency, an arduous process that had stalled all their lives for months. They had made it out to the other side, though, and he didn't know what to believe. 

He needed to know where his next meal came from first. 

Thimble flitted down to his shoulder. "I guess you have to get a job," she teased him. 

Thjazi sipped his drink, looking thoughtful as he often did, but he didn't speak. Cyd was beside him, also silent, drinking an ale. 

Cyd had been gone for a while, nearly a year. He had come to Dol Makjar and started driving carriages after Loza had sent him away, his theft becoming too blatant, too malicious for her taste. He was surlier than Azune remembered him from horse-riding lessons and late-night watch conversations. 

"Teor's gone, off with Loza," he said, trying to provoke Thjazi into speaking. "Kattigan's gone. Everyone's scattered. So what's left?" 

Thjazi snorted derisively. "Don't mention that traitor to me," he muttered, finally roused from his painful silence. 

"Thjazi. I don't have anything," he said softly. "All I had was this, and your wife spared us the sword, but this is still over."

"Thaz…"

Finally, he sighed and stretched his arms across the back of their booth, around Cyd's shoulders, Thimble landing on the other arm. "Make yourself useful, kid. Cas got an apprenticeship with a wainwright I met some time back. And he's got his Crows. Always a good connection to have. Cyd's got the carriages. Means he ferries the upper-class types around, hears a lot of gossip…" Then he chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "So what'll make you useful?"

Azune didn't know. He could fight. He had some innate magic he really didn't understand, and he was good at taking orders. 

"You know, a contact within the Arcane Marshals could go far," he said, dropping his voice. "A fine, upstanding young man protecting Dol-Makjar…" 

Azune could do that, he thought. "Do you know anyone --" 

Thjazi cut him off as a barkeep approached their corner booth and deposited more drinks. 

"I'll talk to General Davinos. I bet he knows someone," he said. "It's important, you know," he continued. "To be useful. Not just to me. But in general. It'll keep you on the right track."

Even young and a little tipsy, Azune saw the wisdom in that, lifting his mug to clink against Thjazi's glass, downing the rest of the ale even though it made his throat burn. 

He could make himself useful. That didn't sound too hard.

Chapter Text

Azune tried not to think of how foolish he'd been. Maybe he was wrong; that was always a possibility. Murray had never had trouble expressing herself before, so to presume he was somehow the one exception to that felt arrogant in a way he didn't like. 

It still felt like something had clicked into place with the thought. Murray thought he liked Shadia, not her, and she had a problem with it. 

He got back to his rooms before the rain hit, but he was restless, changing out his armor and eating dinner, removed from his fellow Marshals at the Brethren Hall. The mood was still sour after the dismissal of the Revolutionary Guard the month prior, but he had no energy to offer comfort to his brothers in arms. His mind was racing. 

If she were jealous, that meant she had some kind of feeling for him. That meant that all his stalling had just -- 

Had just made her think he didn't return her feelings. 

Trust, respect, gentlemanliness, patience, usefulness. 

The random hodgepodge of life advice he'd crushed together into a strange little homunculus within himself was rattling in his head. He'd taken everyone's words to heart, but he realized that he'd just paralyzed himself. He'd used their advice as a shield against seeing the possibilities within people close to him, not in the way they'd ever intended any of it. 

Rain was starting to fall, but he found he didn't care. He was walking to Murray's as fast as he could in the foggy, wet evening, his hair and shirt quickly soaked. His mind was singularly focused on what words he would say when he saw her. 

He stopped at the top of the stairs, not winded but suddenly plagued by a moment of doubt. 

Shadia was right. He needed to know one way or another. He needed to talk to her. He didn't need to fear Murray; she was still his friend, even if he was a fool reading into his own hopes. 

So he walked down the hall and knocked on her door, a light tap. She wasn't expecting him, so he couldn't just let himself in. 

When she opened the door, she looked different than he'd ever seen her: hair loose and damp from a bath, not curled or crammed under her hat, her bright, low-cut corset traded for a worn-out linen shirt and loose shorts. She hadn't undone the braid in her beard, but she seemed well on her way to that, halfway ready for bed and bemused at the sight of him. 

She was beautiful. He couldn't speak; all of his prepared speeches gone from his mind in an instant of eye contact. 

"Shapers below…" she muttered, gawking at him as he stood there, dripping rainwater onto her welcome mat. "Is somethin' happenin'? A message would've been --"

"Nothing happened," he interrupted, still not stepping inside. His shirt was so wet it was transparent, clinging to him uncomfortably, and he noticed her eyes darting to his chest and stomach as they both considered each other. "I need to ask you… No, I need to tell you something."

Murray blinked and stepped back, ushering him inside. 

"I don't like Shadia that way," he announced as she shut the door, any smooth flirtation he might have mustered feeling inadequate compared to the truth.

"What?" She was squinting at him like he was on a street corner, ranting. 

This wasn't going the way he hoped. "I -- did you go home with that man from the tavern?"

"No. It was just a drink. You'd have known that if you hadn't run off," she said, still sounding suspicious as he failed to communicate his point effectively. "...Azune, what are you tryin' to say?"

He stepped forward and her back was against the wall of her entryway as she moved out of his way. Unsatisfied with the quality of his words to express what he wanted in the moment, he leaned down, grabbed Murray by the thighs and hauled her up to eye level with him, coaxing her legs around his waist before he leaned in to kiss her. 

Her reaction was gratifyingly instant, a long moan as she opened her mouth for him, one hand clutching his shoulder as the other tangled in his damp hair. She kissed him with practiced enthusiasm, and they were both panting when they pulled away, Azune resting his forehead against hers. "Oh," she said. "Well, that's not exactly what I…" she started to ramble, cut off by another kiss. 

Unable to maintain his focus on what he wanted and holding her up, he turned around, using one hand to shove a stack of scrolls to the ground and clearing a spot on her kitchen table, depositing her there and keeping one hand on a thick thigh, hoping she knew he wanted her to keep them around his waist. 

"I still need to grade those," Murray scolded, but she still leaned forward and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side with a sad, wet splat on the kitchen floor. Running a hand down his chest, catching long nails on old scars and patches of hair, she kissed him again, tasting like ink and mint. "Look at you," she breathed as she petted his abdomen. 

He went for her shirt, unbuttoning it little by little and forcing it open without breaking the kiss, his hand sliding up the soft skin of her stomach. She threw her head back as he trailed kisses down her throat, intent on paying his homage to what Murray thought her best asset was. He flicked his tongue across her nipple as his hand toyed with the other breast, enjoying the softness and the needy moans it pulled from Murray. Moving up, he bit down, sucking on the pale flesh, but not long enough to leave a bruise. 

She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up to kiss him again, a clash of tongues and teeth as he groaned. There was no way she didn't feel how hard he was against the thin fabric of her shorts. 

It felt like they were hurtling towards something and he could hardly breathe, pulling back and moving his hands from her tits to her jaw, rubbing his thumb gently along the neat braids as he tilted her head up to look at him. "Hold on a second," he breathed, just taking a moment to search her expression. 

All he saw was desire, but it wasn't shallow, ephemeral lust. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. He was sure of that, finally. "Don't be a tease, baby," she said, voice low with need, hand moving lower down his stomach towards the fastening of his trousers. 

"Wait," he said, more firmly this time, pushing her hand aside. Then he grabbed the sides of her shorts and pulled them down, Murray lifting her hips to assist. With a hot flash, he realized she hadn't been wearing anything under her shorts, and she was naked on her kitchen table, waiting for him to move. He dropped to his knees and pushed her thighs apart so he could lean forward and taste her. 

"Azune," she gasped, only making him more desperate. 

He worked his tongue against her already slick cunt while she writhed above him, shifting a leg over his shoulder so he could hold her just where he wanted her. He barely noticed how his knees ached against the tile floor, because his world had shrunk to a tiny pinpoint that was just the taste of Murray against his lips, his beard wet and her sharp nails scratching against his scalp as she tensed, her back arching as she came with a loud, sharp shout. 

"Don't you have neighbors?" he teased as he pulled away, kissing her thigh before he stood up and took off his trousers. 

Leaning back on her elbows, eyes heavy from pleasure, she still managed to scoff. "You don't wanna know what I hear from them," she said. "Come here." 

He leaned forward to kiss her again, grabbing her by the hip as he pushed his cock into her. He moved slowly and paused as he was flush against her, enjoying the warmth around him and Murray's flushed chest and heaving breaths. He kissed her neck and down her collar as he pulled back and thrust into her. 

Her nails dug into his shoulder as he grabbed the table for leverage, his body on fire as he gave himself over to instinct, fucking her roughly without care for anything but their own mutual enjoyment. 

She collapsed back flat onto the table and he pulled one of her legs up over his shoulder, kissing her ankle as the new angle made her cry out. Holding her by her thigh, he watched as a red flush crept down her chest while he maintained the same punishing pace. "Fuck, Azune, fuck," she chanted, speechless in a way he'd never seen her before as her body went tight again, her cunt clamping around his cock like a vice. 

The burning deep inside him was unavoidable, now, and he wished he could bury himself deep in her pulsing warmth as he finished, but he pulled out instead, pressing a thumb against her clit and rubbing her through the last twitches of her orgasm, giving his own cock a few sharp strokes as he came against Murray's thigh. 

"You -- I --" she rambled, sitting up to magic away the mess. She kissed him before he could move out of her space, slow and deep. "Did we really just…?"

"I promise I usually last longer than that," he said, worried he'd somehow underperformed. "Next time." 

"You were perfect, doll," she said. "But I wanna get to know that mouth a little better soon."

Lifting her off the table, he kissed her as he carried her to her bed, luckily just large enough for two of them, despite the rest of her flat being primarily dwarf-sized. She liked to spread out, she always said. 

Dropping her on the bed, he stripped off his socks and climbed in between her thighs. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he said. "That I have feelings for you." 

"S'okay." 

He kissed down her stomach until he found himself back between her thighs, licking her open again.

"I forgot how young you are," she managed to choke out between moans. "Don't think you're getting that monster back in me tonight," she continued when he stopped and looked up at her, silently making sure he was allowed to do what he was doing. 

"No, no, this is just for you," he insisted, cheeks getting hot. He'd never heard anyone call it a monster before. "I can stop…?"

"Just for --? Where have you been all my life… Keep goin'."

He didn't need to be told twice.