This chapter was written in collaboration with a friend.

I

He was late, and it was beginning to get on her nerves.

It wasn't that Ennari was uncomfortable in libraries, only the gods could have told her how much time she spent in them during University. It was just this specific library that seemed to make her scales shiver and her foot tamp quietly against the Nashoban rug. The reading area she found herself in was not terribly expansive, but the distinct lack of chairs and tables to fill the void around her made her uneasy. Like she'd been put in an unfinished room, something not meant to be seen yet.

The rest of the library also emanates a cold, unsettling sensation that she had initially attributed it as an aspect of the Bastion itself. However, the more she glances over at the numerous pieces of art that adorn the walls and tables, a feeling of encroaching despair begins to climb its way into her stomach. She'd spent time in much more hostile places, but the silence compounds the absolutely plain appearance.

She frowns and corners the thought; how could they look so aggressively normal?

She washes the sensations away with a sip of water from the highball she'd been given, removing it from the crystalline coffee table between herself and her prospective interviewee's empty seat.

It was funny; despite Avex's position as Kruuxish's Secretary, her interview application was accepted. In no world would such a request have slipped past him. She'd have to get him something as thanks; it would have been easy to simply lose a few documents and chalk it up to the monstrous gears of the Bastion's titanic construct of a bureaucracy.

Then again, it was Avex, and he would probably throw himself into those gears before saying he'd lost paperwork. Perhaps she'd make the gift an apology instead of a thanks.

She places the glass back onto the low table with a soft clink that echoes resoundingly against the shelves of troubling volumes of parchment and vellum, sending another shiver down her spine. This goddamn General certainly was taking his time; a genuine scheduling oversight, or a demonstration that she's on his schedule and he holds the power? She had her doubts about any schedule her brother managed being incorrect, but maybe Kruuxish only used it as a guideline, used to not having to second-guess his presence.

Ennari rolls her eyes as she leans into the high back of the leather chair. She shouldn't let this get to her, especially not before introductions. No point in worrying if she couldn't help it, and no point in giving herself a bias.

The sky outside is too cloudy to determine how long it's been when rhythmic, muffled strikes of metal against stone rouse Ennari from her lethargy. Was that a pike? A walking stick?

The enormous door unceremoniously creaks open and two figures slip inside, leaving a guard in the hallway: both dragonborn, one a rather short brass using a, yes, it was a metal cane, and a taller copper who she didn't have to study. Well, he was taller than the General; the inch of height she had on him was more important than that.

Avex pauses for a moment after entering to take in the room that she had already grown uncomfortably familiar with, with a critical air that seems to avoid her completely. Kruuxish, on the other hand, makes his way directly towards Ennari. He crosses the room at a slower pace than she expected, seeming to struggle with his balance as he leans on his cane for a great deal of support. He's trying to hide it with a dignified, even stride, but he drags one boot more than the other, braces his arm more firmly than she had seen before in speeches and public appearances. And Avex seems to be looming almost protectively over his shoulder as he trails him over from the door. Interesting.

As a courtesy, of course, she stands up as he approaches and offers her hand. "Thank you for taking the time to give me the light of day, General."

He takes her hand and shakes it, and she doesn't glance down in surprise when she can feel the weakness of his grip through his glove. "Of course," his voice is raspy at first, like a thick tree branch scraping the paint off of a barn, before he clears his throat and finishes his greeting, "Ms. Lumivarax."

She smiles welcomingly before correcting him. "Please, no need to be so formal. Ennari is fine."

He nods before easing himself into the second seat with a huff. "Ennari. Of course."

As he rests his cane against the armrest, whatever tension or intimidation he had built up - whether he intended it or not - through the choice of venue and the extended wait has been utterly shattered. The decorated war hero, Jorenn's Brass Dragon of Karnath, looks more fragile than even her elderly father.

This would be easier than she first thought.

"I apologize for the wait. The Martial Council tends to run longer than scheduled." He begins to unsteadily pour himself a glass of water, only using the hand he'd been holding the cane with. "I should have scheduled you with a larger buffer. That is my mistake."

Avex is standing at attention at the end of the shelves that frame the alcove. She sees him fidget with his sleeve out of the corner of her eye. Not the whole truth.

Ennari sits back down in her chair and picks up her notepad. "Nothing to apologize for, sir. I appreciate your willingness to speak to anyone so soon after..." She pauses until she sees him glance away. "My apologies. I simply appreciate your willingness to talk right now."

"There's no need to skirt around the subject if you're curious." He rolls his neck out like he's been looking down at his desk all day, and in her peripheral vision Avex's head turns just enough for him to look back at them. "Ah, before you ask, we have not apprehended the suspect yet. Our best people are currently working towards that goal."

Though his actions betray a distinct frailty, his demeanor and expression are as emotive and stoic as a sunbleached boulder. Good at his job, she supposes, after so long. But him being good at his job doesn't get her any answers. She'll have to take a chisel to him soon if she wants any worthwhile results. "I see. And you've recovered enough to return to your duties?"

"Yes. Unequivocally." He replies without hesitation, and with a sternness denoting he's sick of that question already. So, either other people had been doubting him, or he'd been doubting himself.

She can't really look towards Avex, not if she wants to keep her traction, but she can't help but wonder if he's among the concerned.

Instead, Ennari nods as she flips to a cleaner note page, one void of idle doodles of daisies and filled-in roses. "Fair enough. While I appreciate your openness, though, the assassination attempt was not my main reason for requesting an interview with you."

This prompts the first physical emotion from the General thus far: a single raised eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. You see," she sharpens her gaze towards the brass dragonborn, even as she leans back, casually open, "in all publicly accessible records, your existence begins with your recruitment directly into Army Group Drumfire at the age of thirty-one." She quietly uncaps her pen and readies it above her notepad. "I'm sure you can understand why this is obviously an incomplete summary of your early life. With the recent incident, many people are understandably curious about your past, specifically that mysterious era before your service in the Corps."

The mask shifts back into place as he finishes sipping from his glass of water. "I see. Well, if that's the case, I don't want this interview to go to waste." He pauses, and his voice slows, as if he's having to choose words from a script he doesn't often use. "Though I do feel like I should warn you, I tend to be a very private person. Forgive me if I am a bit vague. I'm sure you understand the force of habit." He places the glass back on the table with an air of finality.

Ennari smiles. "Completely understandable, sir. If you don't mind me starting so abruptly, I would like to start with your family."

He nods. Avex stops fidgeting.

"You have no listed next of kin or other family members in any public source." She's careful to keep her tone gentle, sympathetic but not pitying. "What was your upbringing like? Where did you live?"

Though his stony expression remains unmoving, he shifts in his seat slightly before easing back down. Good; she was already poking at something important to him. "Well. I grew up in Shenlor, many years ago. I had a... large family, suffice it to say. Many brothers, sisters, siblings, but only a father."

Ennari copies down his words, and then paraphrases it below: large family; likely wealthy, single parent?

Ennari cocks her head, both involuntarily and to try and endear herself a bit more with the General. "Did you have any connection with your mother?"

The General blinks. "She didn't..." He thinks a bit more on the answer before correcting himself. "She was never in the picture."

She places a little asterisk after her previous note. Already into untruths and generalities. "Of course. I'm sorry if that's a sore subject. In any case, why is neither parent on any of your public records in either Jorenn or Shenlor?"

His delivery was as blunt as a playball. "They're no longer in the picture."

"Falling out?"

"Something like that."

Ennari could take a hint. She wasn't going to make any progress continuing on this subject, "Well, in that case, we can move on. What about your upbringing? What was it like, living in Shenlor?"

The General's gaze hardened, as if he was hoping he could intimidate her out of the topic, though she remains unabated. She'd contended with worse interviewees before. Slowly, he answers, "I would rather not say."

"Why not, if I may inquire?"

The firmness doesn't relent. "That business is my own and I wish to keep it to myself."

Avex flinches.

She leans forward, staring him down. "I should remind you, sir, that everything you say during this interview is on the record."

"And?"

She tilts her head again, an intentional give of sympathy. "Readers may find your opaque answers... offputting, given the existing concerns about the missing information."

"I believe the actions I have taken as an adult outweigh those of my childhood, or those of parents that have not been a part of my life." The General draws a deep breath, slowly, but whether it's from frustration or consideration she can't tell. He shifts his legs uncomfortably before he continues. "I grew up in Shenlor until I became of age, and I then left to pursue other interests."

"Other interests?"

"Theology. The study of religion."

This is an interesting new note. Ennari copies it down without breaking eye contact. "Theology? Interesting. Where did you study? And did it pertain to a specific deity?"

He crosses his arms across his chest. Strange, for him to be looking defensive about something relatively common, maybe a dark time in his life if that's the case. "I was with an Order of Paladins who followed Helm in western Whitehall." He hesitates for a moment, but doesn't need another prompt, as if now that he's started he has to follow through. "It was called the Order of the Silver Hand. Relatively small compared to the Knights Errant, but respectable nonetheless." Something about that answer pained him ever so subtly, a shift in his voice like he gave up something dear to him that he'd never get back. There's the tell.

She tries to keep the sound of her blindly scribbling notes to a minimum before she presses further. "I see. Did you study under them as an outsider or were you indoctrinated into the faith? I'm not -"

"No one is ever indoctrinated by the Order," he interrupts her, almost growling the words. "They gave me food and shelter, and offered to help me along my way. I chose to stay because they were good people who were doing good things, and for no other reason."

Ennari can practically see his thought process catch up to his words as he realizes what he's doing. Taking a quick breath, he straightens out of the slight hunch forward he's taken and returns to his original, neutral poise. "I'm sorry, ma'am. That was uncalled for." His hand clenches over his knee. "Perhaps it would be preferable to reschedule some other -"

It's her turn to cut him off. "Think nothing of it, sir. I should have been more thoughtful in phrasing. I would like to continue if you're comfortable."

She has to suppress a smile as he nods.

"Fantastic! So, you chose to stay with..." she feigns ignorance as she absent-mindedly looks down at her notes, "the Order of the Silver Hand. I'm unfamiliar with their exact tenants of faith, but what was it that made you want to stay? Yes, they were, as you put it, good people who did good things, but can you provide any details as to what those things were?" She hopes this line of questioning won't close off this particular door. It's not every day the leader of a country admits to having followed a religious sect, kept under wraps for years.

Almost automatically, the General sits up at attention, repeating a mantra like an automaton. "Defend the defenseless and shield the unsheltered. Your light loosens the clasp of corruption and unshackles the indentured. Seek the forlorn for you are a steward of the Silver Hand and a blade of the Unsleeping Eyes." He finishes with a quiet breath and eases back into his chair, staring wordlessly at nothing in front of him. It's a moment of introspection, that much is evident; Ennari can't quantify what she would give just to see what memories had been pulled up by the repetition.

She waits a pace, debating when to inquire if he's feeling well, but his expression refocuses and he clarifies, "That was the creed of the Order. At the end of the day, what we did was help people. Protect them. Provide sanctuary when they couldn't defend themselves. That's all it was ever supposed to be." He's having trouble staying focused on her, now, his gaze drifting and the small, quiet fidgeting getting worse. He looks tired, even more so than before.

Her eyes narrow as she taps the butt of her pen against her leg softly. It was certainly an odd way to finish his thought, placing such an open-ended stamp of finality on the matter. "If that was all it was supposed to be, what did it turn into?"

"It doesn't matter." His eyes are desolate as he replies, so vacant she's almost concerned that he's forgotten she's there. "You only need to know that I am no longer affiliated with the Order. We separated shortly before I joined the Corps."

Ennari had been to art galleries frequently, for interviews and leisure, and there had been times she'd viewed pieces that seemed unreadable to her. Kruuxish seemed like that, as if he was intentionally painting a picture with absolutely no color or detail, just the implication that, with context, there would be some deep emotional impact she was missing.

She's here for that context. The missing pieces are too important to the stability of the nation to leave them lost.

"And so that brings us to your recorded history?" She asks.

"If those records begin with my enlistment into Drumfire, then yes."

Leaning forward, Ennari laughs quietly, conspiratorially. "General. While I appreciate your time, you have to admit you've given me next to nothing to work with."

The same eyebrow arches again, though the gaze under it is still vague. "Have I?"

She closes her eyes so that he won't see them roll. If he wants to be difficult, she can match him.

She closes her notepad and places her hands in her lap, attempting to look as unthreatening as possible as she speaks slowly. "You've managed to discuss your entire personal life without giving an iota of detail, other than that you're not native to Jorenn and you were once an adherent to the teachings of Helm - details that still leave the majority of your life a mystery." She places the notepad on the coffee table. "The only elaboration you provided is factual information I could have discovered by going to an athenaeum or by simply writing a letter to some associates."

"I apologize. I wasn't sure what else to provide."

She shakes her head. "Everything else you have said has either been obtuse, half-truths, or lies, though mainly by omission." Ennari knows she has to choose her next few words very carefully if she doesn't want to be thrown out on the spot. "I would appreciate it if you could be more candid and honest with me."

While his face remains expressionless, his index finger digs into the worn leather of the armrest; she's surprised his claw doesn't pierce his jet black glove. Once her attention returns to his face, he replies, choosing his words even more slowly than she had. "As I had said before this interview, I am a very private person, Ms. Lumivarax."

"Ennari," she corrects.

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. "There are matters that pertain to the history of my life that are business I wish to keep to myself." He speaks with a precision only politicians and con artists can muster, and Ennari has spoken to enough of both to last her a lifetime. She can already tell it's going to take a lot of effort to write this article with the right veneer of objective neutrality.

Ennari rallies her final push. "I understand, sir, but you have to admit at this point that avoiding the truth is doing more harm than good."

"Admit what?" It's barely a question. Avex is turned halfway to facing them, frowning like he's one second from intervening.

Playing coy isn't going to do her any good, and she's not intending to do this job halfway. "You can admit to whatever you need to," she says sweetly. Avex's tail actually lashes. "Let's take your time with the Order as an example. You said they took you in after you left Shenlor. After that, you vaguely alluded to helping people before mysteriously breaking connections with them and joining the Army. Did nothing of note happen during the years that must have taken? For all I know, this could be some foul, sanctimonious ploy to throw people off the trail."

The left corner of his mouth twitches beneath the jagged, wandering scar that mars it, faintly baring his teeth in a suppressed snarl. The voice that eventually emerges is a diminished growl that he fails to keep in check. "As I have said before. it's my -"

"Business and you wish to keep it to yourself, yes," she finishes his sentence with a morsel of irritation. The General remains unimpressed. "But as a General, your personal business is the business of all of Jorenn."

"I'm aware of that fact. Thank you."

"Someone with this much power can't keep secrets." She taps one finger on the table; her claw makes the glass surface ring. The cold weight of the room weighs her shoulders down like wings. "Not if they intend to keep it. All you've done since you arrived is obfuscate any drop of truth that you could find and to lie directly to my face. How long have people been asking? And where are their answers?"

He stares her down, silent.

Her frustration begins to boil over into her words, lacing them with resentment and animus. "You can't even tell me the names of your family! Did you not love -"

The remainder of Ennari's sentence shatters, falling back down her throat like the shards of the coffee table before her. Her heartbeat feels a second too late, a sudden pounding in her ears over the clatter of glass settling. It's deathly silent for a fraction of a second as the General's gloved fist wavers where the surface of the table once was, just long enough for him to draw enough breath.

"So what if I'm lying?" He roars, and the anger that radiates from him has a strength to it that makes her feel oily, unclean. "I'm lying to the people! I'm lying to you! I'm fucking lying to myself!"

He struggles to his feet, bracing unsteadily against the chair. She hears glass crunch under his boots, and hears what isn't crushed rattle as he shakes. "Every single time I wake up and get out of bed, that's a lie to everything I believe. Because, no, I don't think I should be here to get up and continue. I lie to myself thinking I can change this fucking nation for the better when I have done nothing but make it worse!"

Avex is suddenly in view - she hadn't seen him move, terrified to look away from the Captain-General and the sudden, venomous reminder of what he's capable of - and he stands in front of her, arms open as if he can block her from this, as if dark adrenaline isn't already shaking every muscle she has.

Avex doesn't say anything, and she can't see his face; Kruuxish doesn't so much as lower his volume. If anything, directing his ire up at Avex makes it sharper, bitter. "I lied to the people I promised I'd save that I had to bury in the ground. I lied to the only person I truly loved when I said I would protect her! So yes, my life is built on lies!" He shakes his head, a motion too jarring, too angry, and when he glares at Avex again there's a pain in it. "Lies that I wish were true with whatever is left of my being."

"Ms. Lumivarax," Avex says calmly, not looking back. "I need you to go to the door, please. We will return your belongings to you before you leave."

She wants to argue, to at least take her notepad, but there's a tremor in her brother's voice she doesn't want to think about. She thinks about it anyway. He's terrified.

Kruuxish is so unsteady he has to lean against the back of the chair, and he seems to age as she watches. Whatever had offered strength for his tirade took a heavy toll. The eyes that follow her passage to the door look like they belong to a man a lifetime older.

Avex holds Kruuxish's forearm with something approaching tenderness, keeping him balanced as he picks up his cane, and it's a touch that lingers longer than it should. Ennari trembles, and it's not all because of the cold.

"I'm sorry," the General says, voice raw. The rasp kicks her pulse back up; had he been just as angry before coming to the interview? How frequent was this? He can barely force the words out. "This was inappropriate. I will -"

His sentence cuts off as his mouth clamps shut, so abrupt she can imagine hearing his teeth click. He exhales hard through his nose, but can't seem to regain control over his voice.

"The Bastion will compensate you for your time and ensure a suitable replacement interview occurs at a later date," Avex takes over smoothly. Damn him for sounding so - so collected. "General Kruuxish will do everything in his power to resolve any conflicts... later," he finishes lamely.

Kruuxish himself nods brusquely and limps past Ennari - she feels more angry than scared at how close he is, only because he doesn't seem to be paying attention to her - and out into the hallway. The guard there doesn't acknowledge the brusque exit, just falls into step behind him. Avex holds the door open and then turns to her, looking lost.

"What. Was that." She mutters under her breath.

She must have sounded more scared than she meant to; Avex looks like he might cry. "I don't - I can't explain now."

"Avex, he just -"

"Meet me tonight. At the, fuck, at Wyrm's Mane." He looks out the door, making sure Kruuxish is still in sight. "Please. I'll bring your stuff then."

"You want me to put this off until -"

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm still - I have to go with him. Meet me there."

She forces herself to take a deep breath. "I'll meet you. Avex - I wasn't ready for this."

"I know." He glances around the hallway and then pulls her into a brief hug, and then waves her out the door so he can close it. "I - later. We can talk later."

II

Avex lingers at the door instead of following, and he can't blame him for the hesitation. He knows he's snarling as he limps through the halls, but it doesn't matter. It's useless, bitter, and with each step - even with his weight lightened by the vice-tight grip he has on his cane - the prosthetic tries to grind its impossible edges against every sliver of bone and tendon that remains in his once-shattered thigh, and drags down against his strength when he tries to lift it forward.

He hears Avex and Ms. Lumivarax leaving the room behind him, and assumes the sounds he can't focus on are Avex giving her the polite send-off before he jogs up the length of the hallway to walk beside him.

Avex's voice is still professionally cold. "Put your free hand in your pocket. You're about to tear a hole in the back of your uniform."

He forces his hand to open, finds the second prosthetic moves dull and stiff despite his attempts to will it into motion, feels the weight of his jacket settle against his back as he manages to shift his grip. He tries to flex the fingers of the magical hand, but they won't move any further. With a frustrated baring of teeth he shoves it into his pocket and hopes Avex didn't notice. The shame of it burns under the sting of his own voice in his throat, a corona around the eclipsing pain blotting up through his scars.

Avex casually matches his pace until they near the office, where he walks ahead to hold the door and then quickly closes it behind the two of them.

He stops dead as he hears Avex slide the lock shut. Agony screams up the nerves of his left side until it meets the numbness creeping from his shoulder and goes terrifyingly silent.

"It's getting worse." Avex says, with all the gentleness of a shard of glass. He forces himself away from the comparison. "How much can you even feel right now?"

"Enough," he spits.

Avex walks around him and grabs his arm - forcefully, gently, he can't tell - and pulls it free of his pocket. His fingers curl from the gravity, and little else. "Is this enough?"

He pulls away sharply, a full-body motion when the muscles of his arm fail to follow through. "Don't touch me."

"Then tell me."

"What gives you the right to know?" He shouts back, all too aware that his hand is hanging limp at his side.

"I have the right to know why you just smashed a fucking table and yelled at my sister! And on top of that, if it's news to you, I care about you being alive!"

"And does that outweigh that I want -" The words he wants to say catch out of habit.

"I'd love to know if it outweighs what you're thinking of, but you can't tell me. Won't tell me. It doesn't matter."

It matters. His breath catches wrong, won't inhale.

"If you just talked about any of this - to anyone! Not even to me! Just to someone who would listen, maybe we - you - could find a way to work through this!" Avex spreads his arms, frustrated. "If you could just let yourself be helped instead of - doing whatever the hell this is, where anyone who ever wants to know anything gets blocked off if they get too close to - too close to what? Knowing you? Knowing what you've been through?"

Something is wrong. He feels his heart shuddering, can't feel anything around it. The dim light of the room scalds against his face.

Avex isn't facing him.

"But no, it's all, fucking, one-man-armying your way to death's door! You don't have to be a fucking martyr to - to whatever the hell you're holding back! You're allowed to let people in, you're allowed to - to be a fucking person instead of the Captain-General war hero bullshit -"

He doesn't know what noise he's finally able to force through his locked jaw, but it makes Avex turn instantly, and he sees the anger in his face plummet into pure fear.

He reaches out for Avex, or wants to, but finds himself falling sideways. Hitting the ground doesn't hurt, though it should, and though he sees Avex kneeling over him a second later, he can't feel the hand that Avex places below his eye, or the fingers that push his lips back and then recoil, tips dark with blood.

His breath lurches in with a wave of needling sensations across his chest, and he catches Avex shouting at someone to break the fucking door before everything goes searing white. It's pain, it has to be pain, but it's so absolute that he isn't sure it can be, can't remember anything else to compare it against. He can think of fire, between bones, between bodies, between teeth, between lungs, in jagged and unforgivable lines, blinding and blinding and blinding, and he remembers what his body feels like in the same second he realizes he wants to tear it apart in the hopes that this will end.

A glint of light splits into his vision and he struggles to catch the edge, feels it breaking like ice over dark water as he forces his lungs to work against the cold. It's cold - it shouldn't be cold. The darkness, the not-darkness over him wavers, the light seeping back into colors of skin, hair, eyes.

"Red?" He says, and can't keep his eyes open.

"Please stay awake, sir," a woman says, a woman who is not Red even though she is touching his face, putting her hands on his chest. It's wrong. "More help is on the way, but I need you to stay with me. Avex, I need focus, can you - can you keep him conscious?"

Avex. Avex should be here. Avex fixed it, before, fixed... something he can't recall. His name fits and doesn't fit, familiar but not familiar.

"Of course. Can you - just a bit more room. He - he got his tongue bad, do you have anything to keep him from biting it again? Never mind." Different hands on his face, different hands that cradle his cheek and rest fingers uncomfortably in the corner of his jaw so he can't make it close. He doesn't want to bite down on a voice that fragile, that frantic. "Hey, sweetheart, hold on for me. I - I'd have a lot of trouble doing mouth to mouth with mouths like ours."

Difficult to place, difficult to sort. Difficult to name. Easy to name, it's Avex, he's Avex. Speaking is a monumental effort, like he's trying to haul up an anchor that has buried itself in the seabed for so long that it could have been forged there. "You should."

The woman's hands on his chest; the edges of himself getting softer, cleaner. The warmth of her touch is different than the warmth of the room, than the warmth of Avex's hands.

"I should what?" Avex prompts.

It takes him a second to remember. "Mouth to mouth."

Avex laughs, though it's just as tentative. "And why should I?"

"You love me," he answers, because it's the easiest thing in the world. "And I'm not good at loving you back."

Another gentle settling of golden light. The pain is there, screaming at the borders, but compared to the blank absolution it's not important. He forces his eyes open, and everything is strange and unfocused, but he knows he missed an exchange of looks, knows that Avex is looking at him, now.

His breathing catches again, in a way that feels heavier, grounded, and a wail that borders on the edge of silence rips its way past the sudden tightness of his throat. He wants to close his mouth, but Avex is still keeping him from clenching his teeth, and his gasping whistles through the space in uneven, shuddering lurches. He can hear Avex trying to comfort him, but he still feels too hot, and tense in a way that feels like he has to dig his claws into his skin until it bursts. He wants to curl up until he can block the world out with the gaunt edges of his own body; he wants to stretch every muscle he has open until it snaps; he can't get himself to move beyond trying to bury his face deeper into Avex's palm.

Avex gently wipes a thumb through his tears, and he realizes he's crying.

"I thought she was Red," he whispers, his voice a trembling wheeze. "I thought she - I thought I - I thought we were together again."

Avex carefully lowers himself to the floor at his side, curving himself around his heaving shoulders, trying to be close without shoving Marianne away or shifting him too much. It can't be comfortable, even when he moves his hand out of his mouth. "Tell me about Red," he coaxes.

He keens again, sharp and cold. Avex shifts to hold his hand, and he tries to ignore how much it hurts to curl his fingers over his.

"I loved her. We loved each other. She had red hair, and smiled like - smiled like she meant it, and when she laughed it felt like everything was going to be okay, and she - for years, we - they were my family." The heat in his chest wants to escape, and it's always been fire, it's always been pain, but all he can summon is a wet, bubbling sob. It hurts just as badly as it wrenches past his heart. "But they were - everyone I cared about - I survived because I was a coward who ran, because when the fires were - I left them there because I didn't want to die."

Marianne rises from her kneeling, and he can't find the energy to be embarrassed that he forgot she was there. "I don't have anything else. I sent someone to get help, but," she cuts herself off with a shake of her head. "I'll get more supplies. I left one charge in the bracer, use it if I... use it if you need it."

Avex murmurs something to her over his head, and she quickly leaves the room. He assumes she leaves the room; he's facing the other way, and Avex has put himself between him and the door, down to the arm resting over his shoulder. He tries not to think about why.

"She meant a lot to you," Avex whispers.

He shakes as he thinks about it. "They all did. All of the Blackfriars were like family. And I was - I should have been the big scary dragonborn. I wanted to be, for them. I wanted to keep them safe and I failed. They trusted me, and I found them - I found them -"

His words drop back into that animalistic grief, wordless and clawed, and he drags himself back out of it with equal ferocity. "I loved her. And it took ten years until I could - until I thought I could -"

He stretches his head back to try and press into something, and Avex readjusts to cradle him.

"And they loved me too," he chokes out. "They both loved me, even though I couldn't let go of her, and they had each other, and they wanted - they wanted me to be loved again. And I thought maybe - I thought maybe if they didn't have to just trust me, if they had each other too, that - that - that I wouldn't fail again. But it was - we were in... "

Avex holds him tighter.

"I made the deal to avenge them." He feels like he should be crying, still, but it won't come; the grief is wide and deep and hollow and aches. "To kill the thing that - that - that I failed to stop. And everyone calls me a fucking hero for it, for everything I lost after - that. For failing so badly that I sold my soul so I wouldn't make another mistake. And look where that got me."

The silence stretches for long, mournful minutes before he realizes he's still shaking because Avex is crying, silently, into the dip of his shoulder.

"I'm so tired of running from it," he whispers, and his joints prickle as he closes his empty hand. "I thought if I died so someone else could survive - if I gave a solution to someone else - it would be worth it. That it would feel like it was supposed to happen. But now - I think I'm going to die, and nobody is going to remember them. And none of it makes sense. So I have to -" the desperation seeps back in like spilled poison. "Avex, when this is - over. Promise me."

"I promised. I still promise." His voice is soft and reassuring against his shoulder. "I'll remember everything I can."

"And tell Ms. Lumivarax - tell Ennari that I'm sorry. I thought," his voice cracks, "I thought I had more time. More control. I thought I could... I thought I could make it matter. I thought if... if I..." his breath bubbles up in hiccups and shaky exhales, not steady enough for everything he needs to say.

"You did what you could." Avex murmurs. "You did everything you could. The fact that you're here isn't a failure."

"I'm here, but I left everyone else behind. I - I'm selfish, and I'm alone."

Avex's hand twitches over his, a movement hesitated on for a second too late to be insignificant. "You're allowed to not be alone."

"I'm not," he protests faintly, but he knows his heart isn't in it. It's easy to tell, because he can feel it giving everything it has to keep beating in his chest. No room for distractions. He's never had room for distractions. It takes everything he has to keep himself distant. It takes everything he keeps close.

He feels Avex's chest rise against his back, a deep breath for an uncertain reply, but there are footsteps rushing down the hallway before he can answer. Avex just pushes himself upright, still between him and the door, still leaning protectively over him, one hand on his neck to make sure he stays breathing.

Marianne knocks as she opens the door, followed by two clerics in Bastion uniform. The insignia is meaningless, he knows that instantly; they aren't a part of his network, though he can't place who they are entirely, and any ambiguity evaporates when the one on the left looks at him - for just a moment - like a prize.

He's too exhausted to protest. Avex's fingers dig into his collarbone, and with Avex hunched over him he can hear the faintest rumbling of a growl under his breath.

"These two offered to take him to the hospital," Marianne explains, too far across the room to notice. "They can do more for him there -"

"They can't." Avex says simply. There's an edge to his tone that deadens the room, like he's forcing a blade under the edge of familiarity and peeling it back to remind everyone present that he can still be a threat.

He's ashamed to admit to himself that he'd forgotten.

"I know the requirements for his treatment, and he can get them here. He's conscious and stable," Avex continues, still sharp. "He can rest in his rooms just as well as he could rest anywhere else."

The same cleric steps forward, looks again just that little bit too eager. "You really should let us take him-"

Avex grabs the cane from the ground - funny, he forgot that he must have dropped it - and holds it between Hebroth and the others like a sword. It's not the right shape, or the right weight, to be truly used like one; in Avex's hand, it's perfectly still.

"I will take the Captain-General to his living quarters, where he will be able to rest undisturbed," Avex says reasonably, as if glaring down a mobility aid and threatening a healer is simply a part of the job description. Marianne is staring at him like he's grown a second head. "And he will stay there," Avex glances briefly at Marianne, "until he is well enough to leave on his own."

The cleric looks down the length of the cane aimed at their throat, thoughtfully considering the two dragonborn. Dread pierces through the panic and pain as surely as an arrow wound, even now.

"You're right," they say as they step back, moving out of the way to the door. "I'm sure the Captain-General will feel more at ease with the aid of someone close to him."

Avex doesn't dignify them with a reply, which he's thankful for, but the confirmation comes as surely as if he did as Avex carefully eases him into his arms and then up from the floor. It's just as awkward and uncomfortable as the first time, the last time, but he doesn't have the energy to protest. He barely has the energy to keep himself from leaning into the touch.

"I've got him," Avex says, and from the tone he can assume it's directed at Marianne and not the clerics. "Could you carry the cane?"

Indirect orders to follow along, and implied dismission of the others. Smart. He chides himself immediately at the thought, willing his sluggish mind to work properly. Avex isn't here because he's stupid.

It's unsettling; he doesn't know if he's stayed awake or not, but he recognizes the change in the air when they reach his apartment, when the air gets a little stiller, the light a little softer.

"All the way in, Kara, please. Shut the door behind you." Avex sighs as he leans back against the wall, but doesn't make any move to set him down. "Chair, bath, or bed, sir?"

The desire to make even a token protest about returning to work is already long gone. "Bed, please," he mutters, and tries not to think about how faint his own voice is.

Avex obliges - despite how difficult it is to think, he still notices the difference in steps; his bedroom arrives sooner than it should - and carefully sets him down over the covers, and then sits himself down at the foot of the bed to catch his breath. Marianne walks in just far enough to leave the cane inside the door before quietly and awkwardly excusing herself.

He takes an unsteady breath. "Nicknaming the staff, now?"

"No," Avex replies instantly, though he sounds like he's thinking about something else. "Marianne's her legal name, but she prefers Kara. Told me yesterday."

"She didn't tell me."

"In her position, would you?" Avex glances at him. "She didn't mean any harm by it. You're just her boss, and I'm not."

He doesn't know how to reply to that, and he's not sure if it's the exhaustion or if it's simply something he doesn't have a way to answer for.

He sighs. "Damn. I didn't even use her last name. Ravinia. Hope she doesn't mind. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm angry, but that doesn't - it doesn't help." Avex looks at him, and there's a grief in it that is all too familiar, all too heavy. "I'm scared."

He knows the answers to this; none of the truths are gentle enough.

"It's going to be soon, isn't it?" Avex continues, and when he looks down at his hands he's not sure whose sake it's for. He adds, quietly, "you were easier to carry this time."

"I don't know." He tries to dredge up some memory, some rule by which he can judge, and comes up empty. "If I had an answer, I would tell you."

"I know you would. And I know you don't - I don't think that you want to get it wrong." Avex rolls his shoulders, half-heartedly hopeless. "Don't want me preparing too soon."

"I don't want you preparing too late."

It's the wrong time to be in this room; it's dark, with the sun so high above, and the quiet is oppressive without the coolness of night.

After a long moment, Avex replies. "Well. I wouldn't want to be late, either." Another pause. "Your breathing sounds better."

"Still just a flare-up." He lifts his hand and it moves properly. The prosthetic either glows faintly, or reflects even the dim light; even after this long, he's not truly sure which it is. Avex watches him flex his fingers. Just stiff. "But a bad one."

"I'll find something."

"You said we will, last time."

Avex snorts. "I'm tempted to keep you locked in this room. I'm certainly not letting you dig around a library in this state."

Reasonable enough. He shifts in the pillows, resting his neck to the side. "You're not going looking right now, though, are you?"

"You haven't even had lunch yet. I'm at least staying for that."

"I'm not hungry."

"If I'm being completely honest, the cooking is for me." He laughs, a little shakily. "It's - it's something normal. It's something I can do."

"Can it wait?"

Avex's head tilts.

"I... I want you to stay here. For now."

"In case it gets worse again?" Avex offers.

He goes to shake his head and winces at the budding headache the movement reveals. "No. I just... I just want you to stay."

"I'm going to cook later anyway, don't think you've talked me out of that - we both need to eat whether you want to or not. And I promised Listener I'd meet up with her this evening to... talk about things. But," Avex scoots himself up onto the bed and lies down beside him, within reach but not touching, "for now, though, we've got time."

"Thank you," he sighs, and lets his eyes close.

Avex's hand finds his and - carefully, gently, cautiously - holds it. "You'll make it through this."

"Just me, this time?"

Even through the numbness, he feels Avex hold a little tighter.

"Can you," Avex pauses, swallows. "I'm sorry, I've been... scattered. Today. Preoccupied. I don't know where to start with all of this, except for at the beginning. Can you tell me about Shenlor?"

He tries not to react, but he's sure Avex feels him tense.

"I... I think I've put some of it together," Avex continues, so careful it might break him. "You told Ennari about a large family that you don't have contact with any more, and she thought it meant you chose to leave them. But with the - with what you said in the hospital. It wasn't a choice, was it?"

He knows the tone in Avex's voice means he already has an answer. He appreciates being given the chance to say it himself.

"I don't have any memory of my parents." He begins slowly. "I assume they are... that they have been dead for a long time. I can only imagine if they were alive, they would have tried to contact me by now, for their own benefit if nothing else."

Avex idly traces circles on his palm.

"I don't know how long it took before the Blackfriars took me in - the group that became my family - but it was long enough that I... that I accepted a deal from the Former." The name makes his mouth taste bitter. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"You were alone, and you were scared," Avex interrupts, still soft. "You were a child. Nobody could have prepared you for something like that."

He doesn't have the energy to argue the point. He sighs out a breath, and for a moment, accepting Avex's words as the truth is a comfort. "Red was my... closest friend. We were inseparable almost as soon as we met. We got into all kinds of trouble as kids, getting into places we shouldn't have been. Nothing - nothing really criminal, when we were small, just enough to feel like we were breaking rules. Thev had a lot of trouble keeping us in line before..."

"Someone got hurt?"

"Not in the way you'd expect. One of the other kids, Bay, tried to follow along and broke their arm, and we freaked out really bad because we were a long way from Chapel Row. I was convinced Thev was going to kick us out, stow us on the next wagon heading out of the city and let us fend for ourselves."

"I assume they didn't?"

"He didn't, no." He sighs, but there's a smile in it that he can't help. "He was Red's older brother, for starters, and Red wouldn't have let him only punish one of us. But he could see that Bay getting hurt had made us understand what he was trying to tell us, and he got them fixed up. I can't - I don't remember the details, after this long."

"Is Thev the father you told Ennari about?"

"As close to a father as I've ever had," he agrees. "I - I remember how nervous I was to tell him I wanted to - to be in a relationship with Red. That was a lot of years later, but I still thought he was going to ship me out for asking. But he was - we were all happy about it, really."

Avex turns to face him better. "You and Red especially?"

"I -" Hearing Avex say Red's name now, clear and quiet, pulls at his heart. His voice breaks. "We were. We were... unbelievably happy."

Avex doesn't prompt him again as he stops. He goes to start speaking, stops again, squeezes Avex's hand.

"We might have been overlooked in the street cleaning, really. We didn't - there weren't a lot of us, and we tried to keep out of serious trouble. But... times were hard for everyone, and we - we did something too big to be ignored." He doesn't want to name it, not while knowing how much it cost. "I wasn't in the church when it started. I was picking up our dinner from one of the shops we looked after. You could smell the smoke before you saw it. Gods, I couldn't... I didn't even..."

"If this is too much -"

"It's too much," he says softly, "but that's never stopped me from seeing it. I - I'll leave out the details. It was a fire, and I - I only made it out alive because I wasn't in there when it started. I tried to go in, to - to get them out, but. I couldn't, until after, and then I had to... when the cleaners came in to make sure they'd finished the job, I had to hide."

He has to stop again, to subdue that long-cold grief.

"One of them did find me. Looked me in the eye. I was terrified - I looked back. And they - they had a knife. Already bloody. I thought they were going to kill me." He can almost taste the ashes in his lungs, and they clot in his words. "But they left me. Said the fire had done all of the work. I... I don't think I moved until morning. And as soon as I could get myself back on my feet, I buried them. I left and didn't look back."

"I'm sorry." Avex whispers.

He waves off the apology halfheartedly. Sleep is creeping its way in, gentle and heavy, but he wants to finish this confession before it draws him under. "It was a long time before I was... able to let anyone else in. Jack and Karoline were... kind. Free-spirited. Fiercely devoted to their love of adventure, and to each other. And, over time, to me. I..." he trails off, and then huffs out a single breath of a laugh. "I had two hands, back then. But they came with me to Karnath, and... and I survived. And everyone knows the rest."

Avex scoots up to his side and wordlessly reaches an arm across his chest. He can't make himself resist the invitation; he leans against Avex and hopes he doesn't flinch when Avex briefly tightens the hug.

"I'll remember," Avex says quietly. The grief in the promise is too sincere to mention. "You should... let yourself rest."

"Thank you. For staying."

Avex sighs. "It's where I want to be."

III

Ennari's breath clouds in the drifting snow as she laughs along with the doorkeeper, standing a polite distance away as if there were precise lines drawn for where employee of this establishment becomes bystander without having to leave the warm air that billows out each time someone opens the door. Knowing Ennari, she'd probably measured it out in her head, just as she'd probably picked the angle she was standing so the light from the windows made her expressions clear, just as she'd probably picked her long coat to look modestly unapproachable. She knew politics, knew posturing, knew how to get information. And knew how to dress for the weather, he admits as she shifts her weight and he can see her tail is curled comfortably into a winter sling.

Avex tries not to frown as he half-jogs up the stretch of street between them, hands shoved in his pockets as if pulling the fabric tight will make it any warmer. He hadn't wanted to spend time going home to get something cozier than his indoor uniform, and borrowing one of Hebroth's casual coats seemed out of the question.

Granted, he wasn't sure Hebroth had any. If not for the past few days, he would have assumed Hebroth's closet was a row of exactly identical uniforms with a few outliers with nicer trim for fancier uniform events. Now, he knew he at least had a suit that wasn't drenched in military red, and he was pretty sure there was at least one normal shirt in there, though he hadn't really been able to tell if it was a dress shirt or not with how untouched and wedged-in-the-back it had been.

Well. He wasn't going to complain about Hebroth choosing to sleep shirtless.

Ennari turns her head ever so slightly, and the eye he can see narrows critically.

"Is this the brother you were waiting for?" The doorkeeper - bouncer, he corrects himself, the bar isn't high-end enough to justify the difference in job title - asks, looking between them as if to gauge how related they look.

Kind of unnecessary, Avex thinks; the city doesn't have that many dragonborn - nowhere really does - and their clear familiarity with each other should be enough even for someone who's never met them. As he steps into the same patch of light that Ennari has rested herself in, he's a little mollified by the bouncer's expression as they satisfy their judgment on the issue and seem to notice immediately after that the emblems on his shoulders are a step above the standard city guard.

He feels a little guilty about it after a moment. It's not like being from the Bastion has made him anyone important.

Ennari answers before he can make the silence awkward. "Yes, thank you. And thank you so much for letting me wait with such warm company; I just have to talk to him in private, but we'll be back soon."

It's a job requirement to not roll your eyes when someone starts really buttering someone up. Avex keeps his expression in practiced neutrality as the bouncer blushes a little redder than the cold justifies and Ennari firmly grabs his arm and steers him back up the street.

She's talking before they even round the corner, quiet but venomous. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He tugs tentatively against her grip. "Look, it's not - it's not what it looked like -"

"What it looked like?" She hisses. "Avex, I've seen tantrums less dramatic from two-year-olds, and he's probably closer in age to our parents than he is to either of us. And he's in charge of this country?"

Avex clings to the part he can refute. "He's not closer in age to our parents."

"Oh, so you've counted. What, did you want to start - to start shattering furniture whenever someone asks you questions you don't like? Did you have to prepare your defense for it in advance?"

*It's not like that," he says firmly, and pulls his arm free of Ennari's grip. She stops dead and turns to face him, glaring at his sleeve as he tugs the folds from her hand back into place. "Please listen to me."

She flinches, and doesn't try to hide it. The reference to her childhood name feels like a low blow even as she stares daggers at him for it.

"I would be listening," she says slowly, making sure her emphasis is all but dripping with ire, "if you had been saying anything."

"It's - it's hard to explain."

"I don't care how hard it is. Not for this. You've had this job for almost a year - has it always been like this?"

"No," Avex tries to interrupt.

"Do you spend every moment at your desk prepared for a goddamn - a goddamn paperweight to crack off the back of your skull?"

"No -"

"Is he so paranoid about anyone knowing things about you that he keeps you shadowed after work hours? Should I be worried that someone's got a crossbow pointed at my chest?" She throws her arms wide, as if to invite the shot. "I don't know how you've spent your afternoon, but as someone not protected by black, blood, and gold, I'm not exactly feeling reassured."

"It's not - the uniform isn't blood, it's just red, Ennari. Please slow down, I can't keep up."

"You? Can't keep up? What has he done to you?"

"Nothing!" Avex shouts.

It rings eerily in the dark, empty street. The falling snow whispers over the slushy cobblestone like butterfly ghosts. Ennari shuffles her feet; the scrape of her boots is an almost thoughtful sound.

"He hasn't done anything to me," he says. His breath steams.

"You're different," Ennari softens her voice to match his. "You don't feel like my brother, and I want to know why."

"I haven't been sleeping well."

"Bullshit. You look like shit, but that's not why."

He can feel himself bristling again. "There are things I can't tell you."

"Bullshit -"

"That I'm not allowed to tell you." He waves a hand at the eagle emblem stitched over his shoulder. "My feelings can't come before -"

Ennari interrupts him, searching his face like he's someone she's never met. "I'm not letting this fucking job eat you alive, Avex."

"It's important -"

"I. Don't. Care." Her voice is so tight it's almost a sob. "What I know is that the most powerful man in the country, possibly the most powerful man alive, all but threatened me over interview questions that anyone in my place would have asked, with my brother in the room, and that it seems like I'm supposed to shake it off like nothing happened. And you seem to think I should shake it off. I've been trying to put it together for hours, and I can't make it make sense. I need to know what changed."

"I don't - I don't expect you to shake it off. I promise. There's just been a lot happening, really fast, and I'm -"

"Avex," she says quietly. "Please."

He takes a deep breath, feels the cold swirl in his chest. He knows exactly where to start, the precise moment that he crossed the bystander line Ennari was so careful of."I revived him after the assassination."

Ennari's face is lit blue and gold by the streetlamps and the winter moonlight. "...He died."

Avex nods, slowly. "I saw your article. I, um, I think maybe that was intentionally covered up."

"He died," she repeats. "And you revived him."

"I was there," he says, because he can't think of a better justification. "And I... I could bring him back."

Her eyes dart down to his neck and back up. "Was there nobody else...?"

"There was only - only one guard." He swallows, hard. "And she tried, but it was - he couldn't just be healed."

"Avex," she whispers.

"And there were strangers there that helped, and they - they revived him once, but he was - there was a second attack, and - and I -"

The words pile in an unspeakable tangle in his throat, a coil that grows tighter as his thoughts outpace his ability to voice them; and I held him. It was loud and bright and I begged for some god to listen.

He came back and he came back alone.

"Let's get out of the snow," Ennari says after a long moment, and he finds he can only nod.

She leads him back around the corner. The streetlights seem a little too bright in the early dark, and he's grateful when she gives the bouncer only a polite nod before going inside. It's not fancy, but it's warm and dim, and the few people present seem content to mind their own business. He's been to the Wyrm's Mane before, but never in such a somber mood; when they sit down, the coiled dragons carved into the edges of the bar seem like almost mocking reminders of why he's here. He keeps finding himself staring at the brass ones.

He waits for Ennari to receive her drink, something sunset-red in a tall glass, and then waits as she shrugs out of her coat to the lighter dressed-up-but-not-enough-to-look-unusual teal dress underneath. He feels disheveled in comparison, even in uniform. The bartender glances at him, and he just shakes his head. They look at him with an unexpected concern. Well. He's been here before, and he has a hard face to forget; it's probably the winning smile.

And here he was, thinking he'd been acting subtle.

Ennari doesn't look at him, but she breaks the silence he'd been holding with a grumble of Draconic. "I'm not done being angry at you, you know. If you're going to defend his actions from earlier, you better come up with a damn good reason."

"I won't," he admits, and then hesitates as he tries to recall the words he needs. "I can't - I shouldn't try. Draconic?"

"For privacy." She sets her drink down, looks him over, and pauses to order him something he doesn't recognize the name of. "Your uniform cannot be warm enough for winter here after dark, you must be freezing. If you'd said it was because he was hospitalized recently and stressed, I would have thought you'd lost your mind."

The changes in topic that they're both used to are harder to follow in Draconic than he expects after using Common for so long. "I know you've had better interviews in worse situations." He quietly thanks the bartender as he's handed his glass. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that. And yes, I know, I should have gotten a heavier coat."

"Apology accepted, though it would sound better coming from him." She takes a deep breath. "About what you said outside. About what he said earlier."

"Off the record. Drink first," Avex advises.

Ennari's eyebrows lift. "That's an ominous statement from you."

Avex watches her solemnly until she rolls her eyes and drinks, and then he puts a hand over his eyes. "A lot has happened in the past week. Obviously."

She makes a vague noise of agreement.

"I - at risk of sounding like - like this is a bad thing," he promises to himself to brush up on the language when he has the time, "I'm hopelessly in love with the man."

She stares into her drink for a thoughtful moment before she drains the rest. "Explain. Everything. All of it."

"What is there to explain? What - what of this is something I can explain?" He waves a hand for emphasis. "I fell in love with my boss, who just happens to be the Captain-General, and I wasn't going to say anything about it because he's my boss who is the Captain-General -"

Ennari orders a second drink.

"- and then he almost dies, and I - I maybe ran into the range of attack of the person who killed him and revived him using the necklace mom and dad gave me -"

She interrupts with a snort. "At first, I honestly assumed you got dress coded and broke the habit."

The familiarity of the statement pulls his thoughts back. "No, I just - only the chain is left, and it felt weird to wear it after. Um." He swallows uncomfortably. "He's been nice about the dress code, honestly. So long as I'm in uniform when important people are around -"

She cuts him off with a wave of her hand. "I don't care if he lets you lounge in the office on a custom-made couch fully nude. I'm more concerned about the fact that he's the most powerful person in Jorenn, and you're... filing his paperwork. No offense. It is your job."

"No offense taken." He considers his drink, but decides he should probably be sober - bad mood drinking is a bastard of a habit to break - and slides it towards Ennari. He takes her unused napkin in exchange and starts fiddling with the edges. "I don't think I'd want to be nude in the Bastion."

"I think that's how you're supposed to feel about your workplace."

"But..."

"But." Ennari echoes grimly.

Avex looks up at the ceiling. "I was kind of nude in the Bastion already? I mean, aside from the times I've used the showers in the barracks, those don't count. I used his shower a few mornings ago, in his apartment."

Ennari looks sideways at him. "Your next sentence had better be a damn good piece of context for that or I'm spending my travel budget on finding some wizard to message mom. Wait, how late is it there? Dad, maybe."

"They'd both be asleep, they're morning people. The context is not what you're thinking it is," he crosses his arms and looks away, "but I'm not sure it's something you'll think is good?"

She frowns.

"After the, um, after I had to use the necklace, I stayed in the hospital with him until he was released, so I mostly just napped when he was resting." He chances a glance at Ennari, whose frown is gradually sliding into bewilderment. "When he got discharged, I tried to sleep at my place, but it was... I couldn't sleep. So I went in for some overtime, but the office was... I didn't like the quiet, so I went up to his. Rooms. And slept in the hallway outside of them." He pauses. "I sound like a freak."

"You do. Keep going."

"I don't know how long I slept for, but he woke up early and I kind of fell into his front room when he opened the door, and then we... talked. Like, a normal talk. And offered to let me use his shower since I'd been sleeping on the floor. And then I made him breakfast, and I've been bringing him meals and groceries since. And..." Avex pauses, and looks down at the napkin he's absently been tearing into bits. "And last night we went out to dinner and saw a concert, and we didn't - it was - he didn't say it was a date, but he didn't not say it -"

"You're joking."

He shakes his head. "No, it - it was real. It happened. And then I stayed the night - on his couch, don't get any ideas - and it was - fuck, Listener, I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Ennari only stares at him.

He laughs weakly, because he doesn't know what else he can do. "So there's the context?"

"Wow." She props an elbow on the counter and rests her chin in her hand, and it does absolutely nothing to make her look any less surprised. "And he just... this is normal for him?"

"I wouldn't say it's normal, but it. Didn't feel as weird as it could have?"

"Gods." She drags her fingers down her jaw. "Okay, so, ignoring everything else for right now. Sisterly advice could go in two directions here. Right?"

Avex nods.

"The first option is, of course, that regardless of either of your intentions, he's still the Captain-General and you are also his employee, and this is a bad way to start any relationship given all that that entails. I don't think I have to explain the intricacies of all of that."

Avex nods, more hesitantly.

"The second option," Ennari says with solemn sincerity, "is that anyone who responds to that chain of events by doing anything except getting a restraining order has to be hopelessly in love with you, or you're the first contact with another person they've had after being born under a rock, and I'm pretty sure it can't be the latter because being Captain-General does involve knowing some degree of social standards. Despite how things went earlier. In which case... I mean, you're both adults, you're both," she gestures vaguely, "established on your own, despite your difference in job title. Aside from every action you just described to me, you sound like you're being reasonable, or at least thinking about it reasonably. And... fuck, Avex, if he makes you happy, I'm happy for you. But if he acts like he did earlier towards you, or uses his power for anything, I will personally kick his ass. Off the record."

"Off the record." He agrees faintly. "I just... Listener, I'm trying to learn piano for him."

"Oh, wonderful." She considers his drink, tastes it, grimaces, and then slides it back to him. "Gods, your drinks are practically sugar water. It's good to hear that being hopelessly in love is mutual."

"Is it?" Avex stares at the glass. "I don't know if... if it's really love, or if it's - if it's -" he stops, and lowers his voice, even though he's sure nobody else in the building knows the language. "Listener, he's dying."

Ennari stares at him again.

"It's... it's serious. I don't how long - neither of us..." He closes his eyes, and then has to rub the back of his wrist over them. "I don't think it's something I can - anyone can bring him back from. I don't know if he feels obligated to, before - it happens, or if he's desperate to - to - to have someone there for him when -"

"Well. That explains a few things." Ennari puts her drink down and opens her arms. "Come here, Avexinaerith."

He scoots over to lean into her hug, and she holds him fiercely. He sniffles, tries to laugh, can only whisper out the sound. "You're never going to let me live down the dragon phase, are you?"

"Not in a million years," she says, and squeezes him tighter. "You did tell me to come to the dragon bar."

"You give good hugs," he mutters.

She sighs fondly. "I know. Toddlers give you a lot of practice."

"Before that, even. You've always been good at... caring about people. You've been good at -" his voice catches, and Ennari rubs his shoulder. "You've been good at making people stay. And I've been - chasing impossible fucking romances and -"

"And I'm divorced," she interrupts, leaning her head against his, "while you sound that you've found something that... that has the potential to be really special. If you're careful."

"You sound like you're telling me not to run into traffic."

"Because you'd scare the horses. Listen, Cocoa and I might have drifted apart, but that doesn't mean we didn't love each other in the time we had. I wouldn't have had kids if I was unhappy. Sometimes what you have can be special, even if it's..."

"Doomed?"

"Brief." Ennari says sternly.

Avex lets himself be held.

Ennari sighs again, gentler. "Don't talk yourself out of enjoying the time you have."

He thinks he'll sound petulant, selfish, but the words come out flat and desperate. "I want him to stay."

"I know." He feels her take a breath like she wants to add something else, but she hesitates, and then just squeezes him again. "I know."

"I'm not... I'm not a part of whatever this - this whole thing is that he's tangled up in with magic and adventuring and demons and, and pacts." He rests his face against her neck, unsure if he doesn't want to make eye contact or if he can't physically bring himself to. "But I want to be. I want to - to understand even a part of it, to have some kind of answer to give as to why everything is so - so monumentally fucked up, and I don't."

"Avex," Ennari replies firmly, comfortingly stern. "The man took you out for a night on the town and then you stayed over. I don't think you need to know everything for him to want you there."

"I want to help -"

"You think that's not a help? For him to have someone close to him who isn't involved in all of this?" She sighs. "It sounds like he's told you a lot already. I'm sure he'll tell you what you need to know when he thinks you need to know it. And until that time... you're in love with him, and it sure as hell sounds like he loves you back. Enjoy it."

"I can enjoy it and still want to do more."

"If you told me you wanted to do less, I would think you'd been replaced."

"You're a jerk."

"I'm honest," she corrects him. "And, as someone not romantically involved, I'm also a bit worried about what this means for Jorenn. And I'm still pissed about what happened today, but the context... well, it doesn't justify it, but it makes a little more sense. And I can be angry about it later."

Avex leans back, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he does. "I'm trying not to think about the Jorenn part."

"I'd give you shit about that, but I think you have enough to deal with without trying to take the fate of the country on your shoulders."

He laughs like he's deflating. "I don't - I don't even know where to begin with it. It's hard to... I don't see him as the Captain-General, not really. At first, maybe. But after a year..."

"He's familiar?"

"More than that. He's... he's just a man, Listener, and I barely know the start of what he's been through." He drops his voice to an even lower mutter. "I really don't think he really wants all of this. Especially not now."

"Maybe you can get him to be more politically involved. If he threw around that kind of ferocity for a good reason, he could seriously have an impact. He seems to be losing traction in the Council, if the trend of recent policy matches up with his health declining." Ennari glances at Avex, who resolutely doesn't respond to the lure. "You think he'll retire?"

"Oh, gods, no. He's... well, stubborn feels like a mean word to use -"

Ennari's eyebrow quirks in a way that implies she's not worried about sounding mean.

"- but I think he wants to see it through to. Um. To the. I don't think he wants to give in after this long. Maybe he'd retire someday, otherwise, but. Well."

"And what do you want him to do?"

"That's not -"

"It is important if you're going to be in a relationship with him. I'm not letting you turn into a doormat," the word again lingers in the air, unspoken, "because you're worried about asking too much."

"I - I don't know." He slouches towards the counter again, pushing the paper shreds of the torn napkin back into alignment like the world's worst jigsaw puzzle. "I mean, you know I've thought about going back to school sometime, I don't - I don't think I want to file papers forever - but I don't... I don't know what I want for him. For us. If there is an us."

"Try coming up with something. I know you've thought about it more than you want to let on."

Avex glares at her. She slowly twirls her hand in a go on gesture.

"I'd like to move into an actual house," he relents. "I don't mind the shared housing right now, but if things are serious, the privacy - the space - you get it. I guess not necessarily a house, but -"

"But you want to be a housewife?"

"Shut up," he groans. "I just... I don't know if he'd like it, and I don't know if either of us would really have the time to raise a child -"

Ennari almost chokes on her drink.

"You wanted to know!" Avex protests.

"I didn't expect you to go straight to kids!"

"Oh, come on, you know you absolutely did. It's not like this is news to you - which one of us wanted to play pretend house when we were little?" He gives up reassembling the napkin and sweeps it into a neat little pile for emphasis. "What I was getting at was that it would be nice to have the space and privacy to at least have more visits from people. He's got a friend with two kids, and Maza and Icindi might get along with them."

Ennari pointedly avoids reacting to the hint of bonding over a shared playdate. "He doesn't strike me as the kind of person to enjoy a busy house."

Avex eyes the pile without elaborating.

"Would you be happy?"

"Yes." The answer is effortless. "I - I would be happy if nothing else changed, if we were just together. And I mean that."

Ennari rubs his shoulder. "Well... I don't want to brush you off, but you know I can't stay much longer if I want to stay on schedule. And you sound like you have somewhere you'd rather be."

"I... yeah." He smiles at her, weakly. "Yeah, I should... head back. Oh, right, your notes."

She blocks him from digging into his pocket by reaching up and pulls him forward so she can briefly bump their foreheads together. "Keep me updated, okay? I'll be back in Jorenn within the month, and I'll cancel everything else if you need me here."

"I hope I won't have to." He tugs the notepad - a little out of shape - out of his pocket and hands it to her, and she looks thoughtfully between it and the napkin shreds on the counter before tucking it into her coat.

"I hope you don't either, I'm looking forward to tearing a strip off of both of you in a few weeks. Now get going," she sets down enough coins on the counter to pay for both of them. "The night's not getting any younger."

The walk back to the Bastion is easy, in the dark evening; a light flurry of snow still drifts aimlessly through the streets, and he shrugs under his jacket as if it'll help with the cold. He's thankful when he steps within the Bastion's walls and his breath stops clouding in the air; it's quiet save for the occasional shuffle of boots down a hallway or a distant door being closed. He tries to keep his slush-wet boots from squeaking on the smoothed stone, and he only passes guards on his way up to Hebroth's isolated corner.

As he rounds the corner into Hebroth's hallway, he recognizes Kara's short stature at the door, alert and watchful. He slows as Kara turns to face him, hand resting on the sword at her hip even though he knows he's visible in the dim light.

"Easy," he says gently, holding his hands up. "Avex Lumivarax, secretary and-or corporal. I've got my ID tags in my pocket."

Her hand doesn't leave the sword. "Show them, please."

He stops entirely to fish through his jacket and pulls it out by the cord, the metal tag clicking against the slightly squashed wire-and-bead dragon charm fastened next to it. He swings it gently in a suggestion of tossing it over, and she crosses the hall to take it from him before he does.

"Looks like the unexpected warm break's over," he says idly. "Snowing tonight again. It shouldn't get cold in here, but, you know. Let me know if you need anything. Don't want you freezing to death on duty."

She tugs up her own tags to verify it; the standard issue gray steel identifier peeks out from behind her hand as she holds the empty ring of the second tag, golden and humming with magic - something about seeing through magical disguise, if he remembers right - over her eye to look him and his tag over.

She hands his tag back, and her hand stays off her sword. "Thank you for your cooperation. I don't require anything else, sir."

"Of course." Avex nods towards the door over her shoulder. "Is he...?"

"He was awake shortly after you left, to ask where you went and grant you entry permission if you chose to return. I haven't heard him since."

"Thank you. I'll check in, if I may?"

Kara nods and returns to her post, Avex trailing behind until she stops beside the door and he takes the extra step past to open it.

The lights aren't on; Avex quietly steps inside and closes the door as softly as he can. He busies himself with trying to soundlessly take off his jacket and boots while his eyes adjust.

Avex straightens as he hears the scrape and hiss of a match being struck across the room, and a tiny bead of firelight appears at the kitchen island. In the otherwise total darkness, it paints the sharp and tired angles of Hebroth's face in dancing gold; the match burns low as his hand trembles over the candle on the counter, and he doesn't seem to notice that it extinguishes between his fingers as the candle lights. When he slides the candle away, the light gleams harsh-edged over the bottle and glass at his side.

"Didn't want to startle you," Hebroth says, voice flat as he stares into the flame. He opens his mouth briefly, as if he wants to add more, but then closes his eyes and just sighs.

Avex frowns at the candle as he crosses the room, taking the long way around the kitchen island to try and get a better read on Hebroth before he takes the stool next to him. "Have you been sitting in the dark since I left?"

"Not since you left. I had the candle lit at first." The flat exhaustion in his eyes lifts briefly for a sharp bitterness. "I just couldn't stand looking at it."

"Too bright?"

"It's fire," he speaks with a slow gravity, as if the words have a physical weight in his mouth. "I... I've seen enough of it to last a lifetime." His voice lightens, dismissive. "But it's a dark room, otherwise."

"I don't mind the dark."

The flame flinches as he sighs out a single laugh. "Somehow I expected that answer from you."

"I'm accommodating." Avex reaches across him to slide the bottle closer, squinting at it. "Less left in here than I expected."

Hebroth glances towards his empty glass, which is more telling than it should be. He expects him to avoid the unasked question, but he just slides the glass towards Avex as well. "The magic - I use more energy than I should. Food and drink. High tolerance. I've been drinking from the bottle."

Avex's eyebrows lift. "A clean glass and your backwash? You pamper me."

"Shut up." A bit of the tension leaves his shoulders as he rolls his eyes. "You don't think I'm that gross, do you?"

"Not at all. It's practically a kiss." Avex pours for a second before he hesitates. "What is this, by the way?"

"Whiskey. I couldn't read the label in the dark either."

Avex slides the bottle back to Hebroth. "Well, for both of our sakes, I'll just sip. I'd like to be coherent, if you don't mind."

"And if I do mind?"

"Too bad. I have errands to run tomorrow." He takes a careful taste and hears Hebroth snort again as he does. "Well, it tastes... like alcohol."

"Most whiskey does," Hebroth agrees. "Your, ah, your fins went back when you tried it. You don't have to drink it if you don't like the flavor."

"No, no, I'll drink it. It wasn't the taste - I didn't expect it to be chilled. Anyways, It's a bonding experience, right? The rest is all yours, though. I can't handle more than this."

Hebroth hums thoughtfully, but he takes the bottle from where Avex left it. Avex watches him intently, as much as he can in the minimal light. Hebroth looks back at him to acknowledge the staring as he takes another drink. "I'm not lying about being almost sober. You don't have to worry."

"I'm not allowed to look at you?" Avex teases.

He almost frowns, or almost smiles; it's hard to tell. "There can't be that much to see."

"I know I haven't seen all of it yet."

Hebroth looks back at the bottle. Avex is drawing breath to apologize when he answers. "I'm just not sure you'd like what you find."

"Well, I like you, don't I?" Avex asks.

"Don't you?" Hebroth echoes. "Avex, I don't want this to hurt you."

"It's going to hurt either way." Avex takes another small drink. "Tell me. I can at least prepare."

Hebroth sighs, rests his elbows on the countertop. "The people I've loved before - the people who relied on me - I let them down. I don't want to do that again. I don't... I don't want to do it to you. I don't want to leave you like that. Telling you I've done it was hard enough."

Avex leans forward to match his posture, stifles the life-long part of his brain that quips see, Listener, I can tell when you're trying to get answers out of someone, because I can do it too. "What do you want?"

Hebroth is quiet for a long time.

Avex finishes off his glass and, despite his better judgment, eyes the rest of the bottle.

"I don't know." Hebroth admits. "Or I do know, but I haven't thought about it for so long that I'm not sure."

"If you had to pick a word?"

Hebroth's expression flinches into a brief panic, subdued a second later.

"You thought of an answer." Avex prompts.

"It's hard to admit," Hebroth whispers, and his voice is so soft and honest that it seems to close the darkness of the room around them and their little, flickering light. "It's asking too much."

"I'm the one asking. You're answering," Avex reminds him gently, "and I asked because I want to hear it."

"Love," Hebroth sighs, barely speaking. "What I want is love. And it's - it's stupid, for it to be something so selfish."

Avex takes a deep breath. It would be easy to blame this on the whiskey, on the warm closeness of the dark, but he knows he's still sober, and they've been closer before. He refuses, after thinking it, to make excuses for it, for this - whatever this ends up being. He sets his glass on the counter, gently rests his hand on Hebroth's wrist and - when he turns to face him - kisses him.

It's brief, even chaste, and then he draws back. The stillness lingers. His heart feels like it's going to break his ribs.

Hebroth slowly moves his hand out from under Avex's, and cautiously, almost reverently, traces along Avex's cheek. The emotion in his eyes would take a lifetime to decipher.

Avex wants to try to.

"I love you," he says softly, simply. "And I want to love you. For as long as we have."

Hebroth closes his eyes, draws in a slow, deep breath, and then pulls Avex close and kisses him back. Avex knows from experience that kissing is difficult enough at the best of times, and Hebroth doesn't seem to care about making it elegant. It's clumsy, rushed, wholehearted. It's easy to return in kind.

Avex slides off of his stool to fully close the distance, and Hebroth's hands come to rest along the curve of his back and the bottom edge of his shoulder. He cups the back of Hebroth's head with one hand and trails the other up Hebroth's side, tugging up the edge of his shirt with it; Hebroth tenses, but doesn't freeze, and only murmurs be gentle on the scars.

Through the snow, the city lights glitter like stars.