#abt.fotb

anyway the war happens, it is bloody and messy and unfocused until they (as mentioned) find focus and unite against the blood magic-using italians, which is fair. honestly. at that point you've got the italians largely just defending their own territory vs making any attempts at invasion, and their "proper" army is pretty flimsy by the end of everything especially once the magic runs out lol (there's some stuff to say about the magic but we'll get into that another time). BUT during one of the later stage border skirmishes (this is after the Defeat of italy but the war drags on a bit after that because of the pre-existing spain-italy beef) there's an incident where valentino is separated from his roving gang of horseback orphans and is near-fatally injured, left for dead, pinned under his dead horse. i have referred to the italians as horse cultists a few times; this is partially because, well, ferrari. and partially because they LOVE their horses. like a lot of these guys have grown up with their horses from childhood and when their horses die it's a massive deal, often more of a big deal than a person dying? there's all sorts of rituals and funeral pyres and things and usually a year-long grieving period where they just. don't have a horse. don't ride. it's agony lol. so vale being pinned under the body of his dead horse who he has been riding for well over a decade is traumatic on a lot of levels lmao

enter: marc marquez! marc, who is like, 19 or 20 at this point? and joined in the fighting three or four years prior more out of honour than outright hate for fantasy italy has also been separated from his gang of roving spaniards, but he is not injured, and he finds vale, and it's like. i think valentino is probably pretty well-known, definitely in fantasy italy and to a lesser extent in fantasy spain? infamous over there for sure. so marc has this opportunity to kill valentino, and to be able to say I Killed Valentino Rossi, which would be... glorious, especially for someone his age. like he'd be lauded forfuckinever about it. but i think also marc at this point has a very tender heart. and he knows enough about the culture to know this dead horse situation is a legitimate tragedy, and so the options then narrow down to mercy-killing (which would still end with Glory, technically) or. save valentino's life.

shocking no one he chooses the latter lmao. so you've got this short stocky dude heaving a full-grown horse off of this guy who has killed So Many of marc's countrymen, and then checking out vale's wounds, and then TREATING his wounds. i don't think marc is big on like healing-craft by any means but he knows enough that vale is stabilized, and he's able to get vale to a relatively safe place (significantly less safe for marc, because they head west and into fantasy italy!). they also camp out that night and marc goes back to the body of vale's horse and clips some of her hair for vale to keep because, as mentioned, he knows enough about the culture to know how significant the horse is. vale wants to hate him sooooooooo bad. but is. so touched by this

it takes them like two weeks, then, but they manage to stumble back to valentino's hometown (where all the orphans are yay! and where luca's dad is the "lord" (there's a bit of a different system in fantasy italy which again we'll get into another time). and marc just. stays there. for like a year and a half. and the rosquez romance grows and grows and it gets very Very serious until there's a fucking raid by a rogue fantasy spain group lmao

essentially what happens then is this town is fucking decimated. any kids that weren't orphans before sure are now, including luca. the town is burnt to the ground, so so so many people die, and this town was sort of one of the last Proper towns left? so it's this extremely horrific final blow and it happens AFTER the war which is like. not good. (nothing ever comes of it because fantasy italy is still on thin ice and since all the countries are sovereign lewis can't intervene and insist on any punishments etc, and fantasy france just doesn't give a fuck). so this is happening, and vale is standing in the fucking inferno that was his home, and he immediately blames marc. how could this group have gotten so close undetected without help? has marc been a plant this whole time? basically vale goes temporarily truly insane and marc is pleading with him and trying to reason with him but obviously this doesn't go well; valentino goes after him with a knife or sword and fucks up marc's arm (!) and at that point marc runs. valentino chases him for ages through the forest in the night, it's all very dramatic. there's some ironing out that needs to be done with the details here but marc encounters An Italian who does believe that he's not been undercover this whole time and helps him escape, and coincidentally (like a day or two later) marc runs into alex close to the border of fantasy spain, at which point he just collapses and is real fucked up for a long time, but they get him home, relatively safe if not entirely whole

and vale spends the next ten years literally roving the land killing any spaniards he sees even close to italian land because he hates marc So Much lmao. marc sort of grows out of it but he carries that sadness with him for a very very long time

(they do see each other again during the second war. but that's another story)

so bono is actually such a fun and interesting character in this to me?? he was a blacksmith before the war and he was about 30? years old? when it actually started in earnest. so already kind of up there in age in the context of something medieval adjacent but he of course ~took up arms~ to help fight, which he ended up being extremely good at. you can imagine bono as the sort of like... pacifist berserker? hates killing. actually hates it. but goes into like the wildest battlerage when he's in the thick of it. a few times during the war i think he probably really considered deserting, maybe running off to rispurne (fantasy australia!) to hide out for a while, go full hermit. but, well. enter lewis, of course, who ends up being this unifying figure during the war? all of these countries up until now have been cold at best but largely hostile with each other. but it's lewis who comes along with this runaway northerner (the FAR north is where pretty much everyone else is but we'll get into that another time) (the northerner is nico. of course) and opens the eyes of the masses to the Italian Threat. or whatever you want to call it. and at that point they all unite under a hastily assembled treaty long enough to defeat their shared enemy, and the treaty holds long enough for there to be a lot of very reasonable trade negotiations and peace talks and after the war PRETTY much everyone is chill with each other at least on a professional level. this does not include fantasy spain and fantasy italy. but this again is another story.

so all this to say that bono was an excellent fighter, hated every second of it but was so devoted to lewis and lewis' cause that he just kept at it, and after the war when he was just going like fuck off back to his tiny town lewis insists that he comes to the capital and be his advisor in some capacity (mostly lewis wants people he can trust around him, because he's still got nico with him at this point and the southerners do not love the northerners). fast forward ten years after the war and you've got bono who quietly works in the forge in the castle making beautiful armour, jewelry, and exclusively decorative weapons

fuck me this is getting long

so KIMI, who was born like. the YEAR the war started (the war was ten years long did i mention this. it wasn't a good time) was orphaned at a pretty young age as like many many kids were in this war but ESPECIALLY in paglia. as a country it's comparatively super spread out? like they have one major city that surrounds their extremely ostentatious temple but the rest of the country is like many many very small settlements that aren't particularly well defended. so kimi is this little street urchin even before the war has ended, but a lot of these street kids ended up recruited by the. i don't know whether to call it the Church or the Cult. it's both. we'll call it the church for now it's more gracious ANYWAYYYY. now you have all of these children from ages like, 5 to 15 that are running around the streets loosely in the style of varys' ~little birds~ if you'll allow a game of thrones reference. some of these kids stay spies, and some of them follow the proper pre-war path of recruitment to become something adjacent to monks?? kimi does this and when he's like 17-18 he goes travelling south with a big ol group of priests/monks/etc who are SUPPOSEDLY meant to be a peace party, going to king lewis as emissaries trying to repair relations and all this. mainly they are there spying and causing a distraction while they get up to more blood magic fuckshit

so to get to your actual question. lmao. when this party rocks up to the capital lewis is extremely gracious with his hospitality, puts them up in the castle, feeds them and shelters them and all this. kimi, who is still a sneaky little urchin at heart, does a LOT of sneaking around. this leads to him stumbling into the forge (which like. literally only bono uses) and spending a lot of time just. watching. he forgets to spy because he's never seen so much richness in one place. there're all sorts of standard metals for weapon making but there's gold and jewels and it's absolutely crazy to kimi that this big bulky man is turning all of these precious things into more beautiful, more precious things? he's never seen a blacksmith work like this in his life and he's just INTERESTED is all

eventually he makes himself known, which is extremely alarming to bono because usually he's pretty on-guard and observant and kimi's been in and out of the shop for like days by now and bono just hasn't noticed him?? it's a weird feeling that turns into a refreshing feeling because kimi just like. sticks around. chats with him. asks with zero selfconsciousness if bono will make something for him to take back north ("like what?" "a crown, maybe," he says, unhesitating, like he's thought about it) and most surprisingly makes bono laugh? a lot? and at this point lewis has sort of. sunk into this dismal version of himself, nico left years ago and lewis has no interest in ruling and mainly spends his time looming and brooding and staring out to sea while jenson (his advisor, sort of hand-of-the-king type) runs most things on his behalf. so bono just hasn't really had much by way of joy in a long long time. he keeps making things for lewis but they don't ever seem to help. so it's just... suddenly he's feeling appreciated? kimi is so interested and so unjaded y'know??

it's pretty ambiguous at this point what Actually happens between them; as much as kimi isn't jaded he grew up hard so he's not naive by any means? so it's entirely viable that things get a bit sexual, and bono 100% hates himself for it which kimi just does not understand. if it feels good why NOT do it. and he keeps telling bono that he's kind, and he's good, and all bono sees when he closes his eyes is every man he mowed down in battle so it's very. difficult for him to believe this. kimi tries his best to convince him, though :')

so yeah. like. eventually the delegation leaves, and kimi leaves with them, and it's both pretty uncertain and pretty unlikely that they ever see each other again?? and it's especially sad for bono who has just experienced something other than this ambient desperation to do good for many many years. currently i don't have like, a satisfying answer to how their story/stories end?? but they're a very interesting dynamic to ME and i'm always stoked to go back to thinking about them!!

i am so sorry for how long and meandering this got. oh my god. it's been a long day and i'm running on like a crumb of sleep so i hope this is anything NEARING coherent. i'll give it a read-over when i'm more awake to make sure i've not just been typing in tongues this whole time but thank you THANK you for asking about it, it really is one of my favourite aus, i've drawn MAPS for this stupid thing. it's my baby and it's expanding every day with every man-on-wheels i collect

---

“I’m looking for someone,” Enea says, teeth chattering. His grasp on the language isn't bad, can't be bad after so many years of living under its thumb, but it falls out of his mouth in too-sharp syllables, clumsy with cold. “He’s—he is—”

And what is Pedro, exactly? A sellsword. A mercenary. 

Enea doesn’t even know his last name. 

The woman, who until now has been eyeing him warily, softens. “Why don’t you come in,” she says, slowly, like he’s a bit dumb. “Get warm. Come on now.”

He goes easily into the inn. It is warm inside, so warm, and dry, and it smells like roasting meat. Enea ran out of food two days out of Llynford.

“By the fire, off with you,” says the woman. She bustles him over to it, stripping off the soaked tatters of his cloak and then sitting him down in a chair. “Just stay there.”

/

He hears it from a distance, half-asleep as he is. My lord. Yes ser, he’s right over there. Enea, were he not so exhausted, heavy to the bone with the desperation to sleep, might be afraid. He thinks the thoughts—ah, Flavio has found me—and then lets them go, submits to them. Maybe Flavio will take pity on him. Put him back to work, in a less reputable brothel to be sure but at least it will be somewhere Enea can get warm. And maybe—maybe Pedro—

He sucks in a breath that rattles. He’s prone to this, this sickness of the lungs. Maybe, he thinks, just maybe he’ll die before Flavio can kill him.

“Ah,” says a new voice. “Enea. It is you.”

When Enea opens his eyes it’s—Lord Marquez, stood in front of the fire, all broad shoulders and trim waist and generous smile. Marc Marquez is and always has been very beautiful. One of Enea’s favourite clients. 

Is Enea hallucinating?

“You are so far South,” he says distantly, because that seems to be the only thing to say. Marc laughs. 

“On my way back from the city.” He kneels in front of Enea, settling the blanket more smoothly over his lap, and peers up at him. “Now, you…”

Enea grins, exhausted, but satisfied. “I ran away,” he croaks. “I know your country has these laws, for your slaves.” He coughs now, shuddering as he realizes what he’s saying. “Flavio will have me killed the second he sees me.”

Marc’s smile falters, but only for a second. Most people wouldn’t have caught it but then most people have likely not fucked Ser Marquez.

“No,” he says slowly. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” 

And Enea keeps smiling. He wants to believe this—that Marc might protect him out of some misplaced loyalty, that Marc might feel like it’s something Enea is owed. Enea has never turned down a gift before. But the idea that he could be protected from someone like Flavio is so outrageous that he wants to laugh. 

“I came back,” Enea says abruptly, wheezing a little. He really does feel quite awful. “I could have—I went home. And I could have stayed.”

Marc watches him, features blurry and firelit. “It wasn’t home anymore,” he says.

Dizzily, Enea nods. Marc understands. He always seems to understand. “So I have come back,” he says again, “to find Pedro.” The edges of his vision are going spotty. Darkening, tunneling. He’s so tired.

/

“It would be better to stay,” Nadia gripes. “The weather is bad. Look at him, he’s barely awake.”

Enea makes a muffled noise of protest. He’s plenty awake. He’s following the conversation just fine, even holding his spoon on his own. 

“Really,” Nadia says, ignoring him. “Marc. Really.”

“He can’t stay in this part of the country,” Marc says easily. Finally. Anyone else might not have picked up on the hesitance, the resistance against offering up any information that he doesn’t explicitly have to share. 

“I’m a whore,” Enea offers helpfully. Marc and Nadia shoot him sharp looks, equally pointed in different shades. 

“He’s one of Flavio’s,” Marc says. The reluctance is more naked this time. 

Nadia’s face pinches. She looks nervous for a beat before she scowls, starts to mutter to herself. It takes Enea a moment to realize she isn’t speaking Marc’s language; she’s speaking his. “That blood traitor,” she says under her breath, going back to her dough, kneading furiously. “That scum.”

/

“Enea,” Marc says, soft, chin hooked over Enea’s shoulder. “I need you to stay awake a while longer.”

Enea grunts back at him. Why? He is so tired. The snow hasn’t started to fall but it smells like it will, soon; if only they were headed south. East. Anywhere but the north where Enea will be cold, cold, cold. 

“We will stop soon,” Marc tells him. “And we’ll have a fire, and you can rest. For now, tell me about Pedro.”

He’s quiet for so long it must seem as though he’s fallen asleep. Marc moves to jostle him, but Enea sinks into his hold. 

As much as George does his best to speak and act more like the noble that he distinctly is not, he still says things like, “the rains’ll be coming down in a day or two,” or “this sun’s going to be bad for the harvest.” Things that Alex would never think to say, because it’s never been relevant. But George’s entire life before wedging his way into the city guard was just that—without vouching, he would still be out working the fields of his family’s farm. Not unsuccessful, but there’s no glory in shearing sheep and milking cows. So he says.

-

“Shouldn’t you be standing guard?”

Alex glances back over his shoulder, blinking curiously as if it will be anyone but George.

“I’m guarding,” he says, gesturing at the square below. “Just not standing, am I?”

George pretends he’s too dignified to do things like roll his eyes or scoff or, gods-forbid, snort. With Alex, he does all three.

“Well, stand up,” he says crisply. “I’m not getting a reprimand because you’re too lazy to be upright.”

-

It’s sweaty, under the helm. Alex’s never fits quite right—he thinks that George might’ve accidentally picked Alex’s up in his hurry to dress, once, and that he never noticed the swap.

-

“Come on now,” Jon says. He’s smiling—but it’s that specific smile that Lando knows means he’s getting frustrated, tight and stretched. “Come on, stop holding back.”

“I’m not,” Lando says shrilly. The practice sword is heavy, is all. One hard piece of carved wood held loose in one hand. He’s not used to holding it. He hasn’t done this in ages. 

“You are,” Jon says. “You’re better than this.”

Am I?

“You’re out of practice,” Jon says. “And you’re used to acting weak.”

Acting?

“You’re not. You’re not weak.” Jon hefts his own sword, just adjusting it in his hand. “You’re better than this, so just—“

I’m not. I’m not. 

It’s frustration in a wave, a surge that crashes cliffside. It’s fury. Anger, how unfair the world is. How unfair this whole fucking world is, that Lando’s been bedridden the best years of his life, when he could have been fighting or protecting or impressing Jon properly.

He hears himself yell. Not a sob, not a wail. A proper yowl as he lunges on instinct and swings and there’s a sharp crack. A tree, maybe, or—

He stops. Jon’s staring at him, clutching at his face. When he pulls his hand away it’s covered in blood. It’s all running down his chin, lip split.