#rhss

------

Gavin watched as Geoff paced in front of him, the Lord’s face drawn tight with concern. There were worry lines on his forehead that had crept up in the past few months, and in the fading red light from the sinking sun it almost looked as if Geoff’s face was dripping with blood. The Lord’s cloak swished behind him as he turned, silent, staring straight ahead as he walked. Finally he sighed, moving over to where Gavin was seated. He placed one hand on the table, the other coming to tug at his short-cropped beard.

               “It doesn’t look good, Gav.”

               “So there’s news?”

               “Yeah; Trevor came back a few nights ago with word that Flynt’s starting to mobilize. There’s not much, mostly rumors at this point, but he’s sent out couriers to his sympathizers and we think he’s going to try to make a move within the next month or so.”

               Gavin looked at Geoff’s pinched expression, and then down to the table covered in notes, any bits of information Geoff or his allies had managed to gather on Lord Coal.

               “Not good,” Gav agreed, voice grim. “So what’s our plan?”

               “It’s pretty rough…”

               Gavin waved a hand impatiently. “What do I need to do, Geoffrey?”

               “Technically, we’re still allies with Flynt – on paper at least. There’s been some skirmishes over land disputes near the Gulch River, and while that’s not our biggest problem in the least right now, it’s annoying as dicks to have to deal with. I’m going to send you to his court as a negotiator – see if we can rework the borders in a way that’s convenient to both of us.”

               “But Geoff,” Gavin said slowly, “I’m never a messenger. You have loads of other people who are better suited to that.”

               “Yeah, but none of them can double as thieves. The negotiation is a front; I’ll need you to sneak into his quarters when you can, gather any information you can find. Ideally you’ll copy it all and leave the originals undisturbed so he doesn’t know anyone’s been there, but if you can’t then just grab what you can and burn the rest. It’s a messy plan, but we need to act fast.”

               Gavin nodded. “Anything else?”

               “Yeah, I’ll be sending you in with a bodyguard.”

               “A bodyguard! What for?”

               “To protect you, asshole.” Geoff held up a hand, cutting off Gavin before he could begin to protest. “You’re a good thief, I know, but you’re not invincible. You’re also not one of the upper members of the council, and Flynt will be aware of that. If some unknown person comes traipsing into his land alone, he’s going to see you as a threat – which you are. Sending you with an escort not only makes it look like a more official delegation, but it makes the guard seem like the dangerous one, not you. Plus, if things go south, I’ll feel better knowing there’s someone watching your back.”

               “Some bloody wannabe-knight clunking around is only going to slow me down.”

               “This is non-negotiable, Gavin. You know I don’t even want you in this mess in the first place, but if you’re going to insist on it, it’ll be on my terms.” When Gavin began grumbling again, Geoff shot him a look. “You go with a bodyguard or you don’t go at all, got it?”

               “Fine,” Gavin said sullenly, and with that he rose. He paused, then gave Geoff a mocking bow, but when he tipped his face back up he was smiling. Geoff kicked him out of the room with a rather rude gesture, and then they both were laughing. Things were just tense, the two of them nervous about what needed to be done, and they knew it.

*

               Michael shifted from foot to foot, feeling out of place in the palace’s main hall. This was reserved for dignitaries; for members of Geoff’s upper court, and visiting royals. Nobility, people who wore clothes weaved from fine silk and whispered deals in each other’s ears as they danced around a ballroom or held dinner like it was a game of political chess. It wasn’t for people like him, members of the guard that defended Geoff’s territory and kept The Woodlands safe. True, Michael wasn’t just some grunt in the militia; since joining a few years ago he had worked his way up, and though by no means a general, he was fairly well respected in his troop. Still, the closest he had ever been to Geoff Ramsey was watching the Lord from several feet away as Michael stood guard during annual festivals and the like. Now he had heard that the Lord himself had called for Michael directly, which in Michael’s mind could only mean something horrible had happened.

               His mind was racing – what could it be? He had just seen his family last week, and though his little brother was prone to getting in trouble, he doubted it would be anything that would warrant Michael’s involvement. Michael hadn’t even been a part of anything major military-wise recently, his days split between training drills and border patrol. As he tried to pull anything to mind, he was distracted by a sight that nearly made his jaw drop.

               Walking into the room was Lord Ramsey, looking as he usually did with in his pristine royal garb, his simple emerald circlet resting atop his head. What was unusual, however, was the man currently clinging to his back as though the Lord was no more than a plaything. The man had a mess of light brown hair, which looked less styled and more like the wind had swept through every which way, and the man hadn’t bothered to fix it. His eyes were bright green, striking enough that Michael noticed them even at this distance. He had his legs wrapped around Lord Ramsey’s torso, and arms locked around his neck in a way that would’ve looked like he was trying to strangle the Lord, if it weren’t for the fact that Ramsey was currently laughing.

               “Get off me dickhead,” the Lord said, pushing at the man’s arms without much heart.

               “But Geeeeeeoooff,” the man complained. “Oh,” he said suddenly, catching sight of Michael, and dropped to his feet much more gracefully than Michael would’ve imagined.

               “Lord Ramsey,” Michael said, voice a little strangled, bowing his head.

               “Please,” Ramsey said, waving his hand, “call me Geoff.”

               “As you wish,” Michael said warily, still eyeing the other man who was now looking at Michael with a put-out expression. “What can I help you with my Lo—Geoff.”

               “Your name’s Michael, right?” At Michael’s nod the older man continued. “I have a bit of an unusual assignment for you. I’m sending Gavin here to talk with Lord Coal, and would like you to escort him there.” He swept his arm towards the other man, who merely tilted his head at Michael with that same stupid expression, as though Michael was a fly in the room that he’d rather be rid of. “It should be no more than a two-week trip, and of course you’ll be paid for it beyond your normal means.”

   Michael fought to keep his expression neutral, too many thoughts and emotions swirling underneath. “An escort … Geoff?” After a beat of silence he remembered his manners, tripping over his words in a haste to explain himself. “I’m honored, of course, anything my L—anything you need me to do, I’m happy to. I’m just confused, is all. Why not ask Captain Mica, or one of generals?”

               “It was actually your superior, General Jeremy, who recommended you to me. I need Mica and the generals close to home right now, so I asked for their suggestions. You were Jeremy’s first nomination, and Mica agreed you’d be an excellent choice.”

              Michael struggled for words. Even though he didn’t recognize the other man, he clearly must hold a position of power if Lord Ramsey was sending him in as a personal delegate to another kingdom. To be his personal bodyguard, to be individually singled out by Lord Ramsey himself, was an honor far above something Michael felt he had earned. The recognition alone from taking this job could lead to a lot of extra money that his family could really use. And yet… Michael studied the man – Gavin, as Lord Ramsey had said. He didn’t look like anything impressive. There was that damnable unkempt hair, and green eyes that felt uncomfortably focused on him. His dress was simple - a green tunic, the color of the Woodlands, with plaincloth pants, thin leather boots, and a peculiar dark gray sash tied about his waist. There was nothing immediately wrong with the sash – under any other circumstances, Michael might not have even noticed it; it was plain, just a dark heather color with no embellishments or decorations, tied around Gavin’s waist and nearly hidden by the folds of his tunic. Yet even still, something about it made Michael pause, and he had the absurd urge to reach out and snatch it from the other man’s waist, run his fingers through it and examine it up close.

              This certainly didn’t look like any of the official couriers that Michael had seen, whether from Geoff’s court or visitors to The Woodlands. He didn’t have the right demeanor either – delegates were always calm, composed, the perfect face of neutrality and diplomacy. Gavin kept shifting – slightly, but always moving, whether rocking back on his heels or fiddling with his sash, or just tapping his fingertips together in a constant motion. He also wasn’t hiding the fact that he was clearly unhappy with some part of this situation, although Michael couldn’t fathom what he had done in such a short amount of time to piss the other man off.

              “Well it’s an honor to serve The Woodlands,” Michael finally settled on.

              For some reason, that made Geoff look almost more concerned. He furrowed his brow, evaluating something in Michael that the guard couldn’t discern. After a long moment he nodded.

              “I appreciate your help. Unfortunately, I have to be off to a meeting.” The Lord pulled a face that clearly indicated he had no interest in said duty. “Gavin knows all the details, so you two can work out the specifics between yourselves.” With a playful punch to Gavin’s shoulder the Lord was off, leaving the other two men alone.

              “So…” Michael began tentatively.

              “Look,” Gavin cut in, voice annoyed. “The court’s providing us with two horses, fully equipped with supplies too. We should leave shortly after dawn – an early start to the day to maximize sunlight, but we don’t need to break our backs waking up too early. I’ve studied the maps; if we cut a clear path through the forest, we should be at Shadow Valley in 4 days, 5 tops. I’m going to negotiate –” the word was punctured with an eye-roll “and all you have to do is stand there and look tough.” Gavin eyed Michael up and down. “Shouldn’t be too hard for a bloke like you.”

              Michael bristled instinctively, words flying out of his mouth before he could catch them. “For a bloke like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? And who says bloke?”

              Gavin didn’t even flinch. “It means you’re a guard, you donut. Your whole job is to be intimidating.”

              Michael turned his head around, searching for anyone else in the hall.

              “Surely this is a prank.”

              “What d’you mean?”

              “There’s no way Lord Ramsey would send a blabbering idiot like you to go negotiate with anyone, let alone a fellow Lord. I must be being set up.”

              Gavin’s face twisted, and he muttered something under his breath that Michael wasn’t able to catch. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Shadow Valley You can come with me or not, it doesn’t make a difference to me.”

              “Jesus, who pissed in your cereal this morning? ‘Cause that’s the only reason I could think of for you being such a dick to someone you don’t even know,” Michael retorted. Not waiting for an answer, he surged forward. “I’ll be there, because I know how to do my job. I just hope you know how to do yours.” With that he spun on his heel, storming out the hall’s front doors. God, he hoped this money was worth it.

*

Sure enough, the following morning found Michael and Gavin both at the stables. The air was frosty, and not just because the weather was turning colder. They didn’t speak to one another as they prepared the horses, tying supplies to saddles and double-checking equipment. At one point Gavin accidentally knocked into a cabinet, spilling saddles and bits across the ground. Michael inhaled sharply, but didn’t bother to curse him out as Gavin scrambled to put everything back into place.

              “Are you good to go?” Michael asked curtly once it was settled. Gavin nodded.

              At first, Michael found the silence uncomfortable. It was obviously tense between the two of them, even if somehow Gavin seemed more contrite this morning. Michael was just beginning to soften, thinking maybe Gavin had just been having an off day yesterday, when the questions started. He guessed it had probably been about two hours since they left the castle, without a previous word passed between them, when suddenly Gavin broke the air with:

              “Do you think animals know which animals they are?”

              “…What?”

              “Like, over in the trees somewhere, there’s a squirrel, right? But then the squirrel is sitting on a branch, and looks up, and it sees a bird. Do you think it knows that it’s different from the bird?”

              “What the fuck kind of question is that?” Michael was so caught off guard that his voice turned angrier than he actually felt, but Gavin seemed to take it personally.

              “I’m just saying,” Gavin said, voice sullen. “You’ve got to wonder if an animal knows what it is.”

              “No, you definitely don’t have to wonder that. That’s a stupid fucking question. Of course a squirrel knows it’s different, it’s not flying.”

              “I think there are flying squirrels though.”

              “Well then the squirrel is flying! But it’s a still a fucking squirrel.”

              “But Michael, does it know it’s a squirrel is my point.”

              “Who cares? Literally who cares at all whether a squirrel knows it’s a squirrel?”

              Gavin went silent, and Michael assumed it must be because the other man was ashamed at his own dumb logic. Little did he know that it was the only beginning. Over the next few hours, Michael learned far, far more about the workings of Gavin’s brain than he wanted to.

              - “Would you take 1 million gold if it meant that every time you get a cut, you bleed out all your blood? You wouldn’t die or anything, it’d come back, but you have to bleed completely out every time you’re cut.”

              - “Has there ever been two of the same person?”

              - “If you had to trade dicks with anyone in the world, who would it be?”

              “WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP!” Michael finally yelled. “Jesus, I don’t know where you pull this shit from, but I’m going to go insane if I have to keep listening to it.”

              “I’m just trying to fill the time,” Gavin mumbled, but he looked chastened.

              Michael sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist a few times. “If you’re bored, why don’t we stop and eat some food. Stuff something in that stupid mouth of yours so I don’t have to listen to any more inane questions.”

              It had been quite some time since they left and they were due for a rest anyway, so they quickly found a clearing off the main path to stop. When Gavin was trying to dismount his foot got stuck in the stirrup, and with a loud squawking noise he toppled to the ground. In any other situation Michael would’ve laughed his ass off, but it just made him even more pissed.

              “Come on,” he said, hauling Gavin up roughly by an arm. “Is there anything you’re competent at?”

              Gavin looked hurt. “You’re mean, Michael,” he said softly.

              “At least I can get off a horse without rousing the whole woods.”

              Michael rummaged in one of his packs for some bread, meats, and cheese, and ripped off a portion for Gavin. He sat upon a large, flat rock, while Gavin just sat on the ground, staring out into the nothingness of the trees. The sunlight slanted down on top of them both, casting Gavin in a warm glow that once again made his ridiculous hair shine like gold. Stupid sun, making Gavin look good even as Michael kind of wanted to strangle him.

              Suddenly filled with a desire to make the other man as irritated as he was, Michael lashed out at the only thing he really knew Gavin cared about – Geoff. Though he hadn’t spent much time with the two of them, it was clear they were close.

              “You know, I think it’s pretty fucking dumb of Geoff to be sending you out on this mission anyways?”

              “Why, because I’m too stupid to negotiate?” Gavin’s voice was full of venom.

              “No – I mean yes, that too – but Geoff is an idiot in the first place for thinking he should bother with Flynt Coal. That man is pure fucking evil, everyone knows it. We’re wasting our time working on peace negotiations with him.”

              He was expecting Gavin to lash out, to instantly defend Geoff. Instead, Michael was surprised when the other man merely hummed, picking absently at the bread in his hands.

              “You’re not wrong,” Gavin said quietly.

              “What?”

              “He is evil, Coal. And peace will never truly last with him. But Geoff has to be… cautious.” Unlike his early questions where it seemed like Gavin was just bumbling through words, these were said with care, almost as though Gavin was guarding something. “He’s a Lord, above anything else. He has to do things the ‘proper’ way, even if it’s rubbish. But he’s a good man, and he tries to do what’s best for not just his land, but all people.” Gavin suddenly looked at Michael intensely. “Why did you join the militia?”

              Michael was so surprised that he answered honestly, unthinking. “It just sort of seemed like the right thing for me to do. I’ve grown up in The Woodlands my whole life,” he clarified. “My parents were born here, my grandparents, on and on. A few generations ago, things were kind of shit here. But once the Ramseys took over, it really started turning around. Or at least, according to my grandparents anyway. Obviously I was too young to see these lands under any other blood line. But the rulers before Geoff, his aunt and uncle, they were good people too. My family’s never really been that well-off, but because of Lords Leona and Edward, we always had ways to get by. I really appreciated that, growing up. That we never had to turn to crime or that shit just to live.”

              Michael was so caught up in his story that he missed the way Gavin’s eyes shifted down, no longer looking at him as he continued. “I’ve always been naturally strong, too. So I figured why not play to that, you know? As soon as I turned 17 I joined the militia, and it’s been good. We’re kind of like a family. And I don’t actually think Geoff’s dumb – I’m proud to be working for him, like I said before.”

              Gavin nodded, but it wasn’t totally clear if he had been listening.

              “What about you?” Michael said.

              “Huh?”

              “You always been a negotiator, or whatever it is you do for Geoff?”

              “Oh, no. This is kind of a special circumstance.”

              Michael waited for Gavin to elaborate, but he didn’t seem like he was going to say anything else.

              “Come on dude,” Michael laughed, chucking a bit of bread crust at Gavin. “You’re gonna pull the whole mysterious act on me? I mean, if you don’t want to talk about your job, at least let me know where you’re from. You’re clearly not from The Woodlands, not with that goofy as fuck accent.”

              He meant it as a joke, but all it did was close Gavin off further. The other man curled his shoulders inward, not meeting Michael’s gaze.

              “Doesn’t matter where I’m from. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

              Michael huffed, good mood instantly evaporated. “Well fine, my fucking bad for trying to be fun here.”

              When Gavin didn’t say anything else, Michael went from annoyance to a flash of fear. He thought Gavin had just been making polite conversation earlier, but what if he was really doing it to dig up information on Michael? The guard didn’t think it was likely Gavin was a spy or anything, as he seemed quite loyal to Geoff. But maybe Gavin was just searching for a leg up on the other man, another way to prove he was somehow better. Well, Michael would show him. He wants to be a recluse, fine. Good luck getting Michael to share anything else.

*

              The rest of the day was rubbish. Gavin didn’t mean to shut Michael down – he just couldn’t help but close himself off when Michael started asking questions about his past. He knew Michael wasn’t trying to be mean, but Gavin could barely focus as his thoughts became more and more crowded, a frantic choking feeling clawing its way up his throat. After lunch they were silent again, and Gavin didn’t try to fill the air with hypotheticals or anything of the sort. The quiet wasn’t good for him – he was barely keeping back the thoughts of his past, trying his best just to focus on his horse and the path around him.

              It didn’t seem like Michael was doing much better. Every now and then they’d have to dismount and clear fallen debris from the trail, and the guard took a bit too much pleasure in hacking away at whatever was in front of them. Sometimes he’d shoot Gavin looks through narrowed eyes, though Gavin pretended not to notice.

              Gavin wanted to bridge the gap, he really did. But he also had to be cautious. Geoff had briefed him before they met Michael that the guard was to only know what was necessary. It wasn’t that Geoff didn’t trust him – quite the opposite, he’d only assign someone he truly believed was loyal to a mission like this. But the more information that was spread, the more likely Coal would find out that it was all a setup, and so Gavin didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t defend this “negotiation meeting” to Michael, not without revealing too much. And he wasn’t willing to talk about his past, that was a non starter too. So instead he had to put up with Michael’s constant glares, and his own dismal thoughts.

              As they set up camp that night, Gavin offered to go set traps to catch game for dinner, pulling the tools from one of their satchels.

              “Like you know how to hunt,” Michael scoffed.

              “Hey, I’m pretty damn good with a bow,” Gavin scowled. “And I certainly know how to set a bloody trap.”

              “Yeah right. Give me that,” Michael said, reaching for the trap.

              “I can do it!”

              “Like hell,” Michael said, swiping it from Gavin. “Knowing you, you’d probably cut your finger off and I’d be held responsible. No thank you.”

              “I’m not useless, you know!” Gavin shouted as Michael began to walk away.

              “Sure seems like it to me.”

              Though Gavin could, in fact, set a trap, in truth it was better that Michael went. Knowing that he’d have at least a good hour before the guard returned, Gavin pulled out the notes hidden in a secret pocket in one of his bags. He had read it all earlier, of course, but it was always good to familiarize himself with as much information as possible.

              Over the past couple of months, Geoff and some of the other Lords of nearby territories had noticed strange things occurring from Shadow Valley. Clouds of thick, purple-black smog hanging above the center city. Families and traveling merchants disappearing near the Valley borders. Tales from some of the nomads of inhumane shrieking echoing through the valley ridges. And it wasn’t all intangible things too – Flynt had become vocal about his disagreements with Queen Lindsay, who ruled over all of Achievelandia. She was far away, set in Achievement City which was tucked between the Tower Mountains and Lake Sky. Though she sent delegates to check on the various Lords and resolve minor disputes in the Kingdom, she hardly made appearances herself, and it was starting to take its toll. On the surface, this is what Flynt complained about – that the Lords and their territories should be sovereign kingdoms of their own, not ruled by the monarchy. This was an old complaint, one that stirred up amongst one Lord or another every few decades or so.

              But there were other rumors, worse ones too. That Flynt was unhappy with the ban Queen Lindsay’s predecessors had put on dark magic, and that he wanted to overturn it. Dark magic, despite its name, in and of itself wasn’t a bad thing. It was inherently more powerful than other types of magic, which could have its uses. However, dark magic took incredible tolls on the magician’s body, which often could not be sustained. This led the magicians to outsource their powers – either through necromancy in raising the dead, or summoning creatures from the Nether who could sustain the brunt of the damage themselves. Both of which, of course, were incredibly dangerous. The thought of dark magic… Gavin’s mouth suddenly filled with the taste of smoke, and if he looked at his hands he swore he saw them flash red with blood. Shaking his head, he shoved the thoughts aside. If Flynt was dabbling in dark magic, as the rumors suggested, the results could be disastrous to say the least.

              Hence, Geoff sending Gavin to find any intel he could, anything that could thwart Flynt’s plans and put a stop to the endeavor before it even started. But because they were technically in a peace with the Shadow Valley and Geoff wasn’t trying to provoke unnecessary war, especially not with circumstantial evidence, he needed Gavin to do so in secret.

              Always in the shadows, Gavin thought bitterly.

              He reviewed Geoff’s notes once more, all of the information their scouts and couriers had picked up over the past few months, and shoved them back in their secret compartment. By the time Michael came back with a couple of rabbits, Gavin appeared to have just been poorly whittling a stick of wood. Almost as soon as dinner was done, Michael grabbed his bedroll and dragged it to the furthest side of the clearing, away from Gavin. Probably for the best anyway, as Gavin spent ages tossing and turning before falling into fitful sleep. The last thing he remembered was the echo of a conversation Geoff had with him before he left, accusing him of being too close to the mission, too sensitive to pull it off.

*

              Michael could not figure out this guy’s problem. Yesterday, even if he had been clumsy, Gavin had seemed to be brimming with that nervous energy he carried with him. Today, however, everything he did was sluggish. His fingers slipped tying knots around the saddlebags. His arms drooped over his horse’s neck, every movement belayed with exhaustion. Sure, sleeping outside wasn’t the most comfortable, but it shouldn’t have been bad enough to put Gavin in such bad shape.

              Unless, Michael thought bitterly, he’s some spoiled brat who’s never had to rough it. I’m sure that’s his problem. He’s some dignitary’s kid who was pampered his whole life, never had to work for anything. It’s probably why Geoff is sending him on this dumbass assignment anyway. We all know peace with Coal is useless, might as well send the kid and make him feel important. It explains the dumb voice too.

              All morning Michael went, adding onto his list of things that made Gavin suspicious, that clearly proved he was just some rich kid looking for a way to pass the time. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he jolted when Gavin finally spoke.

              “Uh, Michael?” Gavin said. His voice was raspy from not speaking all morning.

              “What?”

              “Are we going the right way?”

              “Of course we’re going the right way. We’ve been following the trail, it’s a straight shot through the forest. Isn’t that what you said to me back at the court?”

              Gavin sighed, but it didn’t seem like he was tired with Michael, just the situation as a whole. He clicked his tongue to move his horse up next to Michael’s, pulling the map and a compass from his bag.

              “Last night we camped here,” he said, finger pointing to a spot some ways off the trail.

              “How do you know?”

              This time, Gavin definitely sighed at Michael. He moved his finger, showing Michael a small black dot. “I was keeping track of how far we’ve been going, marking it by the river. I figured our campsite last night was roughly in that region, so I burned a piece of wood and marked the map with charcoal.”

              It was smart, Michael had to admit to himself. He had been keeping up with the map too, but not well enough to place them that specifically. Still, it seemed accurate.

              “Ok, so?” he said instead.

              “Well, we took this branch,” Gavin said, finger tracing a narrow path, “to get back on the main trail, but we haven’t hit this hill yet. And,” he said, setting the compass as flat on the map as he could, “the mountains are to the East right now. But look, they should definitely be more North if we were on the trail.”

              Michael was silent for a long moment, studying everything and trying to figure out if Gavin was correct. As he began to take in his surroundings with a sinking stomach, he realized the other man was right. They had gotten off course, and since Michael had been leading, it was his fault.

              “Well, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

              “Wot?” Gavin didn’t even sound angry, just bewildered.

              “If you’re so fucking smart, how come you didn’t realize we got off track earlier.”

              Gavin looked flabbergasted. His mouth hung open a fraction, before snapping shut, eyebrows coming to an angry furrow. “You must be having a laugh. You insisted on leading this morning, not me. You’re supposed to be responsible to getting us to Coal’s city. And you think it’s my fault we’re lost?”

              “We’re not lost!” Michael protested loudly. “We’re just… off course.”

              “Off course!” Gavin repeated, voice rising in pitch. “This is some bloody – mmf!” Gavin flailed as he suddenly found Michael’s hand slapped over his mouth.

              “Shut up,” Michael hissed.

              Gavin’s was still struggling, protests loud but indistinguishable behind Michael’s palm.

              “I mean it,” Michael said, voice low. “I think I hear people.”

              At once Gavin’s eyes went wide, and then he stilled. Gently, Michael removed his hand, coming to rest it at the hilt of his sword instead. The snap of a twig was the only warning he got before suddenly he and Gavin were surrounded.

              The bandits appeared as though from thin air, wearing mottled green and brown clothing and brown bandanas pulled over their mouths. There were five in total, and Michael cursed silently. If he had another guard with him, someone competent from The Woodlands army, they might be able to make it out ok. But ambushed as they were, and knowing protecting Gavin was his first priority, Michael didn’t like his odds.

              The bandits seemed wary of the horses, careful to stay out of reach of the horses’ shaking heads and stomping hooves, but held fast to their knives and swords. Acting quickly, Michael spurred his horse forward, slashing at one of the bandits. They leapt out of the way, but it created a break in their circle.

              “Gavin, go!” Michael shouted. “Run!”

              Not stopping to look at the other man Michael whirled around, already heading back towards the bandits. He saw one coming up on his right and quickly jabbed outward, slicing the man along his arm. With his other hand he reached back, fumbling for his shield which was still strapped to the horse. He parried an attack from a different bandit, careful to keep his horse moving and under control. It was difficult, seeing as the horse wasn’t trained for battle, but luckily Michael had enough experience in the cavalry to keep a grasp on the situation. He caught a flash of green and was turning to attack, only to be surprised that it was Gavin himself, coming up on the ground by Michael’s side. He had no idea where Gavin’s horse had gone, or why the man hadn’t fled when he had the chance.

              He saw a woman coming up behind Gavin, but before he could shout to warn him Gavin spun with surprising agility, a knife glinting in his hand where there previously had been nothing, slashing a neat line across the woman’s throat. Michael barely had time to register his shock before he found himself grasping at the reigns of his horse as it bucked, dodging one of the bulkier men. As the horse came down Michael arced his sword, stabbing the man in the chest. He pulled it out, just in time to parry an attack from someone else, trying desperately to keep the bandits at bay while also keeping an eye on Gavin.

              The other man, for his part, seemed to be doing just fine. He had a slight limp in his step, but was easily blocking the attacks of one of the bandits. Again and again he dodged the man’s knife, dancing out of way before coming up under the man’s guard, stabbing him in the gut.

              Michael, on the other hand, lost his focus for too long. While keeping one bandit in sight, he lost track of the last one, and suddenly felt a searing pain shooting across his sides. He cried out, barely keeping his grasp on his sword. The woman’s sword had cut him across the ribs, but luckily it was at such an angle that she couldn’t properly stab him. Michael managed to nick her on the shoulder, and seeing that her other companions had been cut down, she and the last bandit decided to flee. On horseback Michael wasn’t agile enough to follow them into the woods, and he had other priorities on his mind.

              “Gavin!” he called out.

              “Here, I’m here,” Gavin said, coming up beside him.

              “What were you thinking, you – fuck!” Michael cried out, hand going to his side.

              “Michael, you’re bleeding Michael,” Gavin said, voice trembling as Michael’s hands came away red and sticky.

              Michael winced, keeping one hand pressed against his ribs. “Yeah, I can see that.”

              “Here,” Gavin said, rummaging frantically through the saddlebags. “Let me grab a bandage or something –”

              “No time,” Michael grit out. “We have to keep moving, in case they come back. Where’s your horse.”

              “Gone. I got off it to fight – I’m rubbish on horseback – and it got spooked and ran.”

              “Well get on mine, and we’ll—” Michael cut off with another pained cry, doubling over.

              “We’ve got to stop the bleeding somehow,” Gavin said. He paused suddenly, hands trembling as they went to his waist. It seemed to take ages as he untied his sash, slowly unwinding it from his body, though Michael supposed it could’ve been a matter of seconds. “Here,” Gavin said softly. “Let me tie this around your side.” Gavin didn’t seem to look quite at him as he did so, but once he was assured Michael was properly bandaged, he hopped onto the horse, shoving Michael to the back of the saddle. When Michael tried to protest, Gavin just waved a hand in his general direction.

              “You look bloody pale as a ghost. Let me take over.”

              “Bloody pale doesn’t make any sense,” Michael said, but it was weak. In truth, as Gavin began to ride out towards safety, Michael felt relieved that he could slump against the other man’s back. He found himself fighting to keep his eyes open, and as Gavin murmured something to him, Michael’s vision faded away.

*

              Michael might’ve been a prick towards him earlier, but the sight of blood seeping through his fingers made Gavin’s body run cold. He knew he had to stop the bleeding, had to help Michael somehow, but even still he felt faintly nauseous as he removed his sash to cover Michael’s side. Seeing it around Michael, knowing it would probably be stained with Michael’s blood make his gut churn. But it had to be done, and before long Gavin’s sole thought was finding somewhere to rest and properly take care of the wound.

              Gavin could feel Michael gripping the back of his shirt, and kept talking to him, anything to keep Michael awake. Soon he felt Michael leaning against his back.

              “Michael no, you can’t rest yet. You’ve got to stay awake. You’re – you’re my boi out here, I don’t have anyone else. You have to protect me, remember? We’re going to find some shelter soon and then you can lie down, but you can’t sleep yet.”

              Even as he said it he knew it was useless, Michael’s weight growing heavier against his back. In the end it was all Gavin could do to keep the other man balanced, spurring the horse forward faster.

              “Oh great,” Gavin said as he felt a few faint rain drops fall on his face. He glanced up and saw gray clouds dotting the sky, not quite gathered enough to be a full rainstorm, but knowing one would come soon. Luckily, he knew that the mountains curved towards the woods only a few miles ahead, and after a bit of riding he found an outcropping of a rock – hardly a cave, barely enough for the two of them to lie down under and still be covered, but it would have to be enough. As they began to slow, Gavin heard Michael stirring behind him.

              “We’re almost there Michael, see that rock up ahead? That’s where we’re going.”

              He got a slurred sound in response, but it was better than nothing, and by the time they reached the outcropping Michael was cognizant enough to get himself out of the saddle with very little help from Gavin. He winced as his feet hit the ground, leaning heavily into Gavin’s side.

              “Easy, I’ve got you,” Gavin murmured. They limped to safety, Gavin setting Michael down gently with his back propped up against the wall. He rummaged for medical supplies, and was soon kneeling next to Michael.

              “I think you’re going to have to cut me out of my shirt,” Michael said.

              Gavin nodded. He slowly unwound his sash from Michael’s side, setting it aside. He pulled his knife from his tunic pocket, carefully slashing a line from hip to shoulder. Michael winced slightly as Gavin pulled the sticky cloth away from his side, but otherwise made no sound. Gavin, however, recoiled, startling backwards so hard he nearly slammed himself into the cliff-face. As he had cut away the shirt, Michael twisted to look at his ribs, baring his back to Gavin. And there, set against his upper right shoulder blade, was his soulmark; a glowing diamond sword with a patchy green scarf wound around its hilt. The very same mark tattooed above Gavin’s heart.

              Michael was his soulmate.

              Michael was his soulmate.

              Gavin was reeling.

              “Gavin?” Michael said, concerned. “I don’t think it looks that bad. Pretty shallow, just a lot of initial bloodloss. You look like I’m dying.”

              “Yeah sorry—sorry I—” Gavin tripped over his words, slowly coming back to Michael’s side. He grabbed the antiseptic cream and smoothed it over the wound, fingers trembling.

              “Are you ok?”

              “Just, bad with blood,” Gavin said, shooting Michael a weak smile.

              Michael stared at him. “You just stabbed like two people. You slit someone’s throat, and you’re bad with blood?”

              “Well, that’s different, innit?” Gavin said, working to keep his voice light. He began to wind a bandage around Michael’s ribs, careful to keep it tight but not too constrictive. “When you’re fighting it’s one thing, but it’s different to have an open wound in your face.”

              Michael stared at him a moment longer before shaking his head.

              “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was a faint smile on his lips.

              Michael was his soulmate.

              Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so caught off guard. Nearly everyone met their soulmate, and it usually happened around Gavin and Michael’s age too. But the fact that it was real, that the universe had apparently decided there was someone meant for him and they were sitting right in front of his face – Gavin didn’t know how to process it. Instead, he did what he was best at, shoving it aside to focus on the present moment.

              “Ok,” Gavin said, more to himself than anything else. “Ok, well it’s really starting to rain, so we might as well set up camp here. I’ll get a small fire going, alright?”

              As Gavin set up the fire and got a stew boiling, he could sense Michael watching him. He felt like he should say something, but his tongue was weighed down and refused to move. Besides, what would he even say? It was clear Michael hated him from the beginning, and even if he maybe now felt grateful for Gavin’s help, he certainly wouldn’t want him as a bloody soulmate. In the end it was Michael who broke the silence.

              “Lucky they were just common bandits.”

              “Hm?”

              Michael shifted against the wall, grimacing slightly. “This is annoying, but at least it’s a cut from a regular sword. Would’ve been way worse if it was magic.”

              “Ah, yeah.” Gavin looked down at his hands. “You have a lot of experience with magic?”

              “Not really. I’ve heard stories, things from the generals and some of the older militia about how, back in the day, nearly every person they fought had some kind of dark magic or another. It sounded fucking miserable. But luckily we don’t really deal with that anymore.”

              “Rotten stuff, that dark magic,” Gavin said, struggling to keep his voice level.

              Michael snorted. “That’s one way of putting it. The horror stories I’ve heard, it used to be fucking gruesome dude. There was also one time, on one of my first patrols in the guard, my patrol mate got hit with some kind of spell – earth magic, so not as bad. It was still nasty stuff; the wound got all infected, growing fungus and shit – what?” Michael broke off as Gavin began wretching.

              “Fungus growing out of a person’s body?” Gavin wretched again. “Nasty.”

              Michael laughed. “I still can’t believe you took care of those bandits without an issue, but you look like you’re going to pass out at the mention of plants.”

              “They were growing out of his body, Michael!”

              “Yeah, but you didn’t even see it! How could it be that gross to you?”

              Gavin shuddered. “It just sounds awful.”

              Michael went quiet suddenly, cocking his head. “How did you take out those bandits?”

              “Huh?”

              “I thought you would’ve been long gone, and then I turn around and you’ve got a knife pulled out of nowhere, acting like you’re a trained guard member. Where’d you learn how to do that?”

              Gavin looked at him, took in Michael’s warm brown eyes, his reddish curls looking even more vibrant in the firelight. He thought about what it was like the other night when Michael talked about his past, how it had almost felt like friendship. Something in Gavin yearned to open up, even a little. Then he remembered the mark on Michael’s shoulder and shoved it down.

              “I’d rather not talk about it,” Gavin said. Seeing Michael’s face fall, he quickly added on, “At least not right now, if that’s ok. Another time?”

              Michael nodded slowly. “Another time,” he repeated, and it sounded like a promise.

              Gavin looked out towards the heavy downpour, and suddenly thought of his sash. He scrambled to get it, heading towards the mouth of the outcropping.

              “Where are you going?” Michael called out, something like panic in his voice.

              “Don’t worry, just giving this a wash,” Gavin said, sticking the scarf into the rain. With his back blocking Michael’s view, Gavin turned the sash over in his hands, watching as it shimmered from its usual dark gray into a mottled green, pulsing softly with magic. Gavin breathed a sigh of relief; so the scarf still worked. As he twisted it around, he couldn’t see a single drop of blood. Frowning, he changed the scarf back to its hidden form, and watched as the dark patches faded back in. He scrubbed them as best he could, but he could tell the stains weren’t coming out, at least not right now. Gavin was tempted to turn the sash over once more, to test if its powers were truly intact, but he had no way to do so without alerting Michael to its true nature. Eventually he brought his hands back under the rock, wringing out the cloth and laying it to dry by the fire.

              “What’s the deal with that?” Michael asked.

              “Geoff gave it to me, as a gift,” Gavin said, a small smile on his face. “At a time when things were… kind of rough for me. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

              Michael nodded, but Gavin could see him still staring at it intently. Some part of him wondered if Michael could see through the enchantment, but then he reassured himself that surely he couldn’t – otherwise he would’ve commented on its similarity to the mark.

              Gavin was wary that Michael was going to ask more questions, questions he desperately wanted to answer but couldn’t, but instead Michael let out a large yawn.

              “You should probably get some sleep,” he noted.

              “What about you?”

              “You took first watch last night, I can take first watch tonight.”

              Michael looked reluctant, but shifted himself to lay more comfortably on the ground, stretching out on the bedroll Gavin had prepared for him.

              “Alright, as long as you agree to wake me up for second shift. I’m still protecting you,” he said with a grumble.

              Gavin hid a smile. “Yeah, ‘course.”

              Within minutes Michael was snoring, and as the fire dulled down to its embers, Gavin felt something in his chest thump painfully hard.

*

              “Holy fuck, I feel like shit,” were the first words out of Michael’s mouth. In his defense, he really didn’t feel great. He could tell just from stretching that his ribs were mostly ok, but they were sore as hell, and he felt a faint twinge every time he moved.

              Gavin was at his side in a second. “Is it still bleeding?”

              Michael sat up properly, lifting up his shirt. The bandage was still white. “Nah, doesn’t look like it, but we should probably change this anyway.”

              After redressing Michael’s wound and packing up their supplies, Gavin shot Michael a concerned look.

              “You’re sure you’re good to travel?”

              “Of course dummy. We’ve still got to get you to your meeting, don’t we?” When Gavin continued to give him some truly awful puppy dog eyes, Michael waved him off. “I’m good, I promise. If it really hurts I’ll let you know, ok?”

              Leave it up to Michael to find something worse than slashed ribs to ruin his day.

At first the going wasn’t so bad – Gavin was still in front, insisting on taking charge. They made a good pace without riding too hard, careful not to jostle Michael too much. They were making good time, and there didn’t seem to be danger in sight. And that was when they reached the river.

Gavin swore, bringing the horse to stop at he dismounted.

              “What’s going on?” Michael asked, but the question died in his throat. The Gulch river divided Geoff’s territory from Flynt’s, and had to be crossed in order to reach either place. Normally it was fine, with bridges placed evenly across it to allow free passage. With the previous night’s rain, however, it seemed that the river had flooded, and the bridge they were meant to cross had been severely damaged by the roaring flow.

              “Fuck,” Michael said softly. His heart began racing, palms sweating against his leg. He really, really did not like water.

              It was stupid, he knew, but when he was younger he had nearly drowned, and would’ve died if his older sister hadn’t seen him and pulled him from the pond near their house. Even though he trained himself to swim, he still absolutely loathed water, and refused to go near it as best he could. Now, eyeing the swirling water, he could feel panic begin to rise in his gut.

              Gavin was further ahead, examining the bridge. The base structure was still there, but some of the railings had splintered, and bits of the bottom were missing. He put a tentative foot on a wooden board, and Michael could hear the creak even from his position.

              “Hey, careful asshole!” he shouted, fear making his voice angry. Gavin looked up at him. “If you get sucked into that thing, I’m not dragging your ass back out.”

              Gavin just beckoned him closer. Gritting his teeth Michael urged the horse forward, slowly as he could. He stopped a few yards from Gavin.

              “I think it’s okay. We’ll have to be careful, avoid the weaker patches obviously, but it should hold our weight.”

              “I don’t know dude, maybe we should just find another bridge.”

              Gavin shook his head. “Nearest one is ages from here. It’d add a day or two to our trip. This is the quickest way to Flynt’s.”

              “Yeah, but what happens if it breaks, huh? Getting to the meeting on time won’t mean much if we’re both dead.” It didn’t make sense even as he said it, but Michael could not bare to cross that bridge. Not with the water swirling so violently close.

              Gavin looked at him, eyes narrowing in sudden scrutiny. “Are you worried about your side, Michael?” he asked softly.

              When Michael met his eyes he could tell that wasn’t what Gavin was really asking.

              He swallowed. “Yeah. Just don’t want to stumble and hit a bad board or something.” He couldn’t entirely keep the tremble out of his voice.

              Michael was expecting Gavin to respond with judgement, or worse pity, but instead Gavin just nodded, face carefully smooth.

              “How about this then? I’ll go across first with the horse, you wait here. I’ll be able to better tell where the stronger parts are as I cross it, and then I can come back and help you across.”

              Michael’s fist clenched. He hated this – he could obviously go over the bridge himself, he wasn’t helpless. And yet…

              “Yeah, that – that sounds like a smart plan.”

              Every step Gavin took, everytime he heard the horse clop a hoof down, Michael winced. The bridge creaked and groaned, water sloshed against the sides, but it held. Gingerly picking his way across, Gavin had soon navigated the bridge, and having secured the horse he made his way back much quicker.

              Gavin stretched out a hand to Michael. “Ready?”

              Michael took a deep breath, clasping Gavin’s arm. “Yeah.”

              They went slow, so slow it was almost worst, but every time Michael’s chin dipped to look at the water, Gavin would softly remind him to look up, that he would watch Michael’s footing. When they finally reached solid ground Michael nearly collapsed, but instead steadied himself against Gavin’s side.

              “Well,” he said, “that wasn’t so bad.”

              Gavin let out a laugh, clear and high, and though normally Michael would be angry, see it as a personal affront against him, instead he found himself laughing, staring right into those bright green eyes.

*

              Once they were past the river, Gavin couldn’t stop thinking about the way Michael looked. How he was so clearly trying to hold himself together, but the way his eyes went wide and his hands shook. Michael, who would’ve tried to take on five bandits alone just to keep Gavin safe. Michael, who had probably faced horrific people and tragedies as a guard, but who clearly had his own fears.

              And he had relied on Gavin to get him through, to keep him safe. Even if he hadn’t said as much in words, how could Gavin not give at least some of that same trust right back?

              “My parents are gone,” he said.

              “What?” Sitting behind him, Gavin could hear the confusion clear in Michael’s voice.

              “You asked about where I’m from. Why I know how to fight.”

              Gavin took a deep breath. It was easier, not having to actually look Michael in the face, being able to focus on the trail instead. He hadn’t talk about this with anyone in a long, long time.

              “When I was young, my parents died. They – they were murdered.”

              He heard Michael suck in a breath behind him.

              “Jesus, Gav, I’m so sorry.”

              Gavin didn’t pause. “I didn’t have any siblings or anything, didn’t know any other family. It was just me. We… didn’t live in a great place. When they left, I had a rough go of things. I had to make some difficult choices.” Gavin’s fists tightened. “It wasn’t easy, having no one looking out for you. I had to learn how to watch my own back. I learned how easily it was for others to take advantage of you if you didn’t. I spent a long while drifting. No home, nothing to hold onto, really, except an awful, burning desire to kill the woman who had taken away my parents.”

              Gavin let out a hollow laugh.

              “Turns out someone did that for me. Not sure what I would’ve done then, except shortly after I ran into Geoff. It was stupid, really – his caravan had broken down and I happened to come across it. Of course, I had no bloody idea who he was, and I tried to rob him. His guards caught me, but instead of executing me as he could’ve, he decided to pardon me. Guess he saw that I was young, or struggling, or something. Anyway, I felt right guilty after that. Especially finding out he was a Lord! Anyone else would’ve done me in for sure. But I hate feeling like I owe people something, so a few weeks later I snuck my way into his court. I found him in one of his offices, and demanded to pay him back somehow. I didn’t have a lot of skills, but I was willing to learn. After hearing about where I came from…” Gavin trailed off, shrugging.

              “Well, Geoff basically adopted me. I mean, not proper of course, I’m not heir to The Woodlands or anything. But he took me in, made sure I had a home and food and was cared for, helped guide me. Sometime that first year, he also gave me my sash.”

              Gavin let out a little laugh. “He jokes that I’ve long since repaid him, but I’d never leave Geoff now. Not after everything he’s done for me.”

              For a few long moments, everything was silent.

              “God Gavin, I’m sorry. That’s a lot of shit to go through.”

              Gavin shrugged again.

              “Yeah. But things are better now.”

              “I can’t imagine going through that though. I mean, I’ve seen some shit being in the militia – battles and bloodshed, I’ve lost some good friends. But not having a family, a home? I just can’t picture it. My family’s everything – it’s always been my siblings and I, my parents looking out for us. Growing up without them, well, it’ve been impossible. Even if we do all want to strangle each other sometimes.” Michael paused. “Shit, I’m sorry. I feel like a jerk.”

              “Nah, you’re fine,” Gavin waved him off. “I’m glad you have family. I don’t want everyone to be like me, a sob story and all that.”

              “Is it hard, being away from The Woodlands? From Geoff’s court?” Michael asked quietly.

              “Whatd’you mean?”

              “Well… you said Geoff basically adopted you. I assume the court is like home now. Is it hard, traveling away from it after not having a home for so long?”

              “Not really. I’m happy to do anything Geoff needs, and I know I’ll be back sooner or later. And I’m certainly not sad about it for this trip, if that’s what you mean.”

              “Why? What’s different about this trip?”

              Gavin cursed inwardly. He was getting too close, giving too much away. He had been careful to leave details out of his story, not cluing Michael into his full past – anything that might jeopardize the mission. But he got comfortable, he wanted to open up, and it made him sloppy.

              “I have a personal investment in this meeting.”

Before Michael could ask questions, Gavin quickly changed topics. “I was looking at the map earlier; I think if we ride out for a good few more hours, we can make camp in the hills. Then it should be a short ride to the capital tomorrow morning.”

In the ticking silence that followed, Gavin knew Michael was debating whether or not to push the topic. But instead all he said was,

“Yeah, sounds good to me. My side’s beginning to itch like hell anyway, the sooner we can get off this damn horse the better.”

*

Flynt Coal might be an awful man, but his territory sure knew how to throw a party. Gavin’s estimation was right, and the following morning he and Michael quickly found the capital city in their sights. As they approached, Michael leading for the first time in days, he squinted.

“What’s that?” he said, gesturing to the gates of the city. The gates themselves had been enchanted to glow softly, and gentle lights dotted the high walls, pulsing through different colors. Beyond the gates they saw the streets teeming with dozens of people all dressed in bright clothing, with rows and rows of booths lining the ways.

“I dunno,” Gavin said, staring at it in awe.

When they arrived at the city itself, a guard soon informed them it was the land’s annual festival of Candlelights. Shadow Valley received its name because it sat out the base of the mountain range; surrounded by hills and high peaks, the valley was often cast into shadows. This became even more apparent in the early summer months, when sunlight was only visible for a few hours each day, resigning most of the territory to dusky half-light for the rest of the days. In order to lift spirits, the land created the festival of Candlelights, a two-week extravaganza in which the whole territory was given respite from work, and encouraged to celebrate with loved ones and friends. The theme was, naturally, candle lighting, and through enchantments and light magic, the city was able to cast itself in warm glow, even in the darkest months of the year. The capital city set up a temporary marketplace, full of vendors from all over the land, even beyond Shadow Valley. There was food, dancing, revelry, and was a time when “even your greatest wish can come true”.

“Well, Gav, I don’t know about you, but I’m not particularly eager to be knocking down Flynt’s door,” Michael said, a smile spreading across his face.

“You know boi, our meeting isn’t officially until tomorrow. I think we’ve earned ourselves a little holiday.”

Michael needed no further encouragement to grab Gavin’s hand and go running into the crowd. Of course, it wasn’t strictly necessary to hold onto Gavin, but how else could be sure not to lose him in such a busy place?

Gavin was fucking delighted, to say the least.

“I’ve never seen something like this Michael!”

Michael laughed. “C’mon, The Woodlands have dozens of celebrations.”

“Yeah, but nothing like this, you’ve got to admit. And certainly not in the capital city.”

That much was true, Michael did have to agree. Most of the traditions in The Woodlands were ones focused on family and the home – meant to be celebrated with a close group of friends, not out in public the way Candlelights was. And even the more outward festivals tended to have bigger gatherings out in the plains, not really in the denser cities. Seeing Gavin’s pure, enraptured glee simultaneously made Michael sad that Gavin had missed out on so much of a childhood, but also determined to make this day one to remember.

“Well, come on then! We better explore as much as we can while we’re here.”

And so they went, trailing from booth to booth. They could hardly take a few steps before Gavin was tugging on Michael’s sleeve excitedly, pointing out some shiny decoration or intricate costume. At one point they passed a fruit stand, of all things, and Gavin’s whole face lit up.

“Michael, come here Michael!”

“Why do you always do that?” Michael said with a laugh.

“Do what?”

“Repeat my name twice. Every other sentence is, ‘Oi, Michael, look what a great big nose I have, Michael!’”

“Hey!” Gavin protested, but he was laughing too. “I do not have a big nose! And my accent does not sound that stupid.”

“That’s what you think,” Michael said with a snicker.

“You’re quite mean to me,” Gavin said, pouting.

“Aw c’mon, stop giving me that face. What did you want to show me?”

At the reminder Gavin’s face flipped again, eyes sparkling. “Look at the fruit!”

“We’re literally surrounded by every sort of toy, magic item, piece of clothing, whatever-the-fuck-you-want imaginable, and you’re excited by fruit?”

“But look!” Gavin said, picking up something that was round and purple, about the size of a small apple. “This is an Oxberry. I haven’t seen these since I was a kid… they’ve never been in The Woodlands.”

“That’s right!” the vendor chimed in. “I brought these from all the way across Achievelandia. They only grow in the Oxfordin Hills, hence the name of the fruit. They’re very hard to find nowadays.”

Michael couldn’t help but notice the way Gavin flinched at the mention of Oxfordin Hills. If it were anyone else, Michael would’ve brushed off such a reaction – with that area’s past, it made a lot of people uneasy. Once, Oxfordin Hills was a hub of life and growth – it was the produce capital of Achievelandia, with land rich for growing crops, exported across the kingdom. But after the dark magic wars, after a group of warlocks and mages banded together, using an army of Nether creatures and undead to raze villages and take control of the capital… well they had started in a town not too far from Oxfordin Hills. It was one of the cities that bore the strongest brunt of the destruction, before the Lords had banded together to take down the attackers. Though much of Achievelandia was affected, most were able to rebuild. A few cities, however, had been so badly ravaged that they were unsavable, Oxfordin Hills being one of them. If Gavin had had this fruit as a kid, and his parents were killed… Michael decided to put that thought aside.

“Well Gav, if you’re that excited about a piece of goddamn produce, I guess we have to get it.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring much spare change,” Gavin said, his face falling.

Michael waved him aside. “It’s on me.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Who says I’m getting it for you? Maybe I want to try the fancy exotic fruit.”

As it turned out, Michael definitely did not. As soon as they purchased the Oxberry Michael took a huge bite, ignoring whatever Gavin was saying. Immediately a sharp bitter flavor floor across his tongue, causing him to scrunch up his face in disgust.

“What the fuck?”

Gavin was double over laughing. “You can’t just eat it straight, you dolt! You’ve either got to roast it, which makes the skin all sweet and crinkly and the insides soft and mushy, or you sprinkle sugar directly on it.”

“Well that’s just dumb! Why grow a fruit that you can’t eat right away?”

Gavin just shook his head, face fond. “You need to appreciate the finer things, Michael.”

“I’ll show you finer things,” Michael said, before grabbing Gavin’s head in a headlock and rubbing his knuckles across Gavin’s scalp.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Gavin complained, laughing as he squirmed out of the grip.

On and on they went, through the seemingly endless rows of booths. They were handed free samples of just about everything, Gavin eagerly stuffing everything into the rucksack on his back.

“What could you possibly need an enchanted quill for Gavin?”

“What if I want to write something all fancy-like?”

“I doubt you even know how to read.”

“Hey!”

Back and forth, bickering and shoving each other, Gavin tugging Michael to one stall before Michael would drag him to another, both smiling the whole way throughout. Michael had intended to make this day special for Gavin, but he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d ever been so truly, purely, blissfully happy.

When Michael saw a stand advertising charms and other magical trinkets, Michael knew he had to get something. The vendor had all sorts of small items laid out across a table. There were wooden carvings of animals with small jewel insets, books for healing spells, and different pieces of jewelry displayed. Michael’s attention was drawn to a small pendant, rather unremarkable compared to some of the other jewelry, but for some reason it stood out to him right away. The cord itself was simple black leather, and the charm on the end held an interlocking design – one half green, one half blue,  like two waves twisting in and out of one another.

“You have a good eye,” the vendor said, an elderly woman. “That’s a lucky charm. Supposed to bring good fortune with the wearer anywhere they go.”

Michael looked at it again, something about the piece drawing him in further and further the more he held it. He glanced up at Gavin, who was staring at the pendant a little oddly. Michael’s hand closed around it.

“I’ll take it.” He exchanged the gold pieces with the woman, whose eyes seemed to twinkle with knowing.

“Didn’t really take you for a jewelry person, boi,” Gavin said as they walked away.

Michael stuck out his arm, a little stiffly. “Well, it’s not for me.”

Hesitantly, Gavin reached out to take it. “You’re giving it to me?”

“Figured if anyone needs good luck, it’s probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin asked, mock-offended.

“You can barely walk without tripping over your own feet! You’re like a walking disaster sometimes.”

Gavin’s brow furrowed, but then he looked smug. “I think it’s the opposite. I think you’re giving it to me because I’m your lucky charm?”

Michael spluttered. “Did you not listen to what that old lady said at all? Clearly I’m giving you luck, not taking it from you.”

“Mmhm, whatever you say.”

“Oh yeah, and what about you is so lucky?”

“Well we’re here, aren’t we? You would’ve never got to experience Candlelights if it weren’t for me, since your whole job was to follow me here.” Gavin said the word job all elongated, like the idea of Michael being assigned to him was now a joke.

In all fairness, it did seem kind of strange to Michael too. It had only been a few days, and yet Gavin had rapidly gone from an annoying charge to… well, something more than that. The thought that he would only be here because Geoff was paying him didn’t sit well anymore.

“Speaking of jobs, do we need to be preparing to talk to Flynt tomorrow?”

Gavin’s face went sour. “We were having such a lovely time Michael, I don’t want to think about that yet.”

Something inside Michael fluttered at the idea of him and ‘lovely’ going together.

“Well we can keep shopping, but I have a feeling the stalls are all going to start looking the same.”

“Don’t worry,” Gavin said with a grin, “I know just what we should do.”

*

“Bevs?” Michael said, looking at the flagon of beer in his hand.

“Precisely!” Gavin crowed, knocking his glass against Michael’s.

Gavin had towed them both in the direction of the nearest tavern, and they now found themselves tucked into one of the only available booths. They had to lean in close and shout at one another just to be heard, and the band that was playing was truly awful, but Gavin wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“You really think it’s a good idea to get drunk right now?”

“We won’t get drunk silly, just have a bev or two, and then we can head off and do all the responsible things you insist we do before the meeting tomorrow.”

Michael looked uncertain, but Gavin winked and threw back his glass, prompting Michael to mutter “what the hell” before chugging his own drink.

With nothing to do but look directly at Michael, Gavin was noticing all sorts of things about the other man. Like how Michael’s nose was brushed with freckles, or how he had mis-matched curls on either temple that just wouldn’t lay in the same direction as the rest of his hair. Gavin had the insane impulse to reach out and touch the curls, to try to smooth it behind Michael’s ear, or maybe tangle his fingers in them. Before Michael had even finished his drink, a warm red flush was starting to rise on his cheeks, and Gavin found his lips quirking upward more and more.

They weren’t drunk, either of them, but with the atmosphere and bit of warm beer in their stomachs, it lent itself to an air of looseness. Soon, Michael was telling Gavin stories about some of his screw-ups early on in his training, which led Gavin to squawk in laughter, high-pitched noises of delight spilling from his mouth.

Gavin surprised himself too, finding stories from his past that weren’t painful to talk about, scrambling for anything that would make Michael launch into that belly-deep, loud laughter, something that might have chafed on others but made Gavin feel like he was glowing.

“Can you believe it?” Gavin crowed. “He just got up and bloody walked out in the middle of our date. All because I said I like cats more than dogs.”

“I mean, he has a point,” Michael said. “Dogs are, without a doubt, infinitely better than cats. But that’s still fucking rude.” Michael took a pointed sip of beer, and then too casually said, “So, dates with dudes, huh?”

Gavin was still spluttering in indignation about the animal comment before catching on to Michael’s question. “Oh, yeah. I suppose I fancy birds too, but I usually tend to like blokes more.”

Michael hummed noncommittally, seeming suddenly very interested in his drink.

Gavin hesitated. Michael was his soulmate, he knew that. Even still, not all soulmates worked the same. And rarely, some soulmates didn’t match up at all, despite what the tattoo showed. So Gavin had to wonder…

“And yourself?” he said.

“What?”

“Birds or blokes?”

“You’ve got weird phrasing for everything, you know that?” Michael said in lieu of answering. “Birds, blokes, bevs… well not everything you say starts with a ‘b’, but you get what I mean.”

If Gavin was going for this, he might as well be committed. “Avoiding the question boi?” he said, arching an eyebrow and plastering on a fake confident smile.

Michael shrugged, eyes looking somewhere just above Gavin’s head.

“Eh. Not too much experience either way.”

That brought Gavin up short.

“What? Never had a proper girlfriend – or boyfriend or anything?”

“Not really. It was hard when I was younger – yeah I had a few crushes here and there, but I mostly had to look after my siblings, I didn’t have time to be dating. And then I joined the militia, where there’s all sorts of rules about not dating each other. I know people outside the guard but…” he trailed off. “Besides, guess it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“Well, there’s this whole soulmate thing. I’m guessing you saw my mark with all this rib bullshit.”

Michael’s voice had lowered, causing Gavin to lean even closer. Normally, you didn’t really talk about your soulmark with someone else, and you certainly didn’t show it off to other people, at least not if you were unbounded. But sometimes, circumstances arose that were unavoidable, which could lead to some uncomfortable moments. Like the one Gavin was currently experiencing.

“Uh, yeah. I noticed it.”

Michael flapped a hand. “I don’t really care if you looked. I mean I know I’m supposed to, but whatever. I never really got why your mark has to be some big secret.” When Gavin didn’t answer, just gave a noncommittal hum, Michael forged on. “But anyway, yeah. Never dated much, but I figure whoever, whatever, my soulmate ends up being, I’ve got to like them regardless, so it’ll work out. That is, if I find them.”

Gavin’s head snapped up. “What do you mean, if?”

“Well, I don’t know. I like the idea of a soulmate, sure. But I don’t actually care that much – it’s why I don’t really care if you saw my mark either.”

Gavin’s blood went cold. “You don’t care about your soulmate?”

“Well, that sounds kind of harsh. It’s not like I’m rejecting the idea or anything, I’m not one of those radicals. But also, I like being me. I’m having a good time with my life, and I don’t feel the need to go searching for someone else to complete me, you know?”

“I suppose,” Gavin said, voice tense.

If Michael didn’t care about soulmates, why would he care about Gavin? Sure, Gavin had joked earlier that he was Michael’s lucky charm, but the reality was that if Geoff hadn’t ordered Michael to accompany him, their paths would’ve never crossed. Michael would’ve never given a second glance at Gavin. And even now, even after it seemed like they were getting along, it was one thing for Michael to not despite Gavin’s company anymore, but to accept him as his soulmate? When it seemed like Michael wasn’t bothered either way about finding his or not? Well what sort of shot did Gavin have then?

“Let me guess,” Michael teased, not picking up on Gavin’s mood. “You’re waiting for ‘Mr. Right’ to come along and sweep you off your feet.”

Gavin let out a harsh laugh. “Not hardly. Idunno. I’ve always liked the idea of soulmates. When my parents died, it was nice thinking that maybe one day, I’d have someone else. Not to replace them or anything, but just… someone who would always stick around. But it’s hard to imagine anyone would really want me, all of me, even if bloody fate or whatever says we’re meant to be together.” When he saw a sad look cross Michael’s face, Gavin forced a smile. “With this ugly mug, I’d need some strong magic to make that soulmate stick.”

“You’re not ugly,” Michael, rather sullenly Gavin thought. When he saw the look Gavin gave him, he rolled his eyes. “I mean sure, you’ve got a nose big enough to fit a horse, but you’re not. You know. That atrocious looking.”

“What a stunning compliment Michael,” Gavin said, but already he was struggling to keep the smile off his face.

“Shut up. I’m sure you’ll find your soulmate and they’ll – I don’t know. Shower you with praise or whatever.”

Gavin was quiet for a moment. “What if your soulmate isn’t who you think they’ll be?”

“Huh?”

Gavin struggled to meet Michael’s eyes, but forced himself to look. “Let’s say you meet your soulmate – bird, bloke, whatever. And they’re not what you expected. Maybe not what they seem at first. Would you still want to be with them?”

“I don’t know, Gavin,” Michael said, looking strangely annoyed. “There’s so many things that could mean. Like, is the person secretly a brunette and not blonde, or are they actually a necromancer in disguise? That would change a few fucking things. I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

“Never mind,” Gavin said, abruptly mad at himself for letting on too much. He gestured to their two nearly-empty glasses. “We should probably finish these and find a place to sleep.”

“Already?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. Like you mentioned before, big meeting tomorrow. And it’ll be hard enough to find a place to stay with all these people, might as well get a head start.”

Gavin’s plan was to find an inn with an available room or two, go to sleep, and wake up well-rested enough to deceive Flynt and put a stop to his plans. Of course, things never went so smoothly for him.

Almost immediately upon exiting the tavern, he and Michael were jostled against a wall, a group of people swarming forward and forcing the two of them into a smaller alley. There were still dozens of people milling about on the streets, but here he and Michael were more tucked away, out of eyesight from any casual passerby’s.

Two figures stepped forward into the mouth of the alley, and Gavin’s head swiveled to see one more behind him. One woman from the front approached them, her eyes glassy, a knife clutched in her hand.

“You,” she said, voice trembling with anger. “You both killed my Lucy.”

Gavin shot Michael a look. Who now? Then Gavin saw Michael suck in a breath.

“You’re those bandits from before.”

Gavin’s eyes widened, and sure enough, around their necks lay the same bandanas as the crew from the woods.

“Yes,” the woman snarled. She thrust out her knife arm, but nowhere close to actually hitting either of them. Instead, she used her other hand to rip her shirt sleeve up, revealing a soulmark in the shape of storm cloud with red rain.

“You killed my Lucy. You took her from me,” the woman was crying now, tears rolling down her face, but still twisted with anger.

“Uh, in all fairness, you were trying to rob and or kill us,” Michael said cautiously.

“YOU TOOK HER!” the woman wailed again, and suddenly lunged forward.

Cramped in the small alley as they were, Gavin barely managed to avoid her, crushing his one arm against the alley wall. He heard Michael curse as he too twisted away, clearly agitating his ribs. The woman, Lucy’s soulmate, stumbled past them, and Gavin realized all at once that she was drunk. Praying that the other two were as well, he turned and shouted at Michael “After me!”

Without bothering to get out his knife, Gavin stepped towards the other bandit in front of them, sweeping a foot behind the man’s ankle and throwing his weight against the bandit’s chest, knocking the man over. Grabbing Michael’s hand, he surged forward, yelling at them both to run.

They tore through the crowd, weaving as best they could, crouching behind stalls and circling around buildings. After a few minutes Gavin couldn’t see any sign of the bandits, and pulled Michael into the nearest inn with a sigh of relief.

“Are you ok boi?”

“I should be asking you that,” Michael said. “She didn’t get you?”

“No, all good.”

“Me either. Though my rib’s hurting like a bitch. I don’t think I reopened the wound, but it certainly doesn’t feel good.”

“Let’s get a room,” Gavin said, worried. “Then we can look at it properly.”

Michael was right, and to their relief there was no fresh blood. Gavin changed the bandages again just to be safe, and before long they were getting ready to tuck into the room’s one bed. If it had been earlier in the night, Gavin might’ve felt a thrill that they had to share a bed. Instead, the encounter left them both exhausted and raw, nothing else to say to one another. Even worse, Gavin couldn’t stop feeling guilty, churning over the tavern conversation in his mind.

That woman, the bandit, had clearly gone postal when she lost her soulmate. Michael said he didn’t really care if he found his soulmate, but would his reaction change if he knew that it was Gavin? If he found out that Gavin knew the whole time? If he truly discovered the details of Gavin’s past? Would knowing all of that make Michael care – make Michael hate him?

The more Gavin thought, the more miserable he felt, spiraling deeper and deeper into his thoughts until he fell into a tense sleep.

*

              Michael did not want to go into this meeting already feeling awful. He knew it was going to go poorly; everyone knew Flynt Coal was an asshole, and there was no way he’d agree to this proposition to renegotiate boundaries simply and peacefully. The most he and Gavin could do was at least go in with their best foot forward, spirits high. Instead, they both woke up with the air thick and tense between them.

              Personally, Michael thought the night had been going great. He and Gavin were having the time of their lives at the festival, and the tavern was fun, up until Gavin got weirdly moody about soulmates. Michael wanted to fix that, to find out why Gavin got so serious and to make him feel better, and then they had to get attacked by those fucking bandits again. If Michael ever encountered them again, he would be sure to see to their last breaths.

              Still. If Michael felt bad, Gavin must’ve felt worse. All Michael had to do at this meeting was standing and look intimidating, Gavin had to do the actual persuading. The least he could do was pretend things were alright, try to lighten the mood.

              “Feeling good Gavvers?”

              Gavin shrugged. He had been up before Michael, already dressed by the time the other man woke, and was currently snacking on some bread and fruits.

              “Sure you’re not roughed up in any way from those assholes last night?”

              “I’m sure,” Gavin said dully.

              Michael softened, losing the false cheer in his voice. Tentatively, he reached a hand out, resting it on Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin looked startled, and Michael was worried to see deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

              “If something’s wrong, you know, you can tell me. Not just about this, about anything.”

              For a long, long moment, Gavin didn’t say anything. It felt like hours passed in silence as Gavin stared at Michael, searching for who-knows-what in his eyes. Michael wasn’t sure what Gavin found, but something in his expression hardened.

              “This might be a suicide mission,” Gavin finally said, “and I’m not sending you in there unless you know the truth.”

              Michael felt his stomach drop from underneath him. “The truth about what?”

              Gavin took a long breath, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I’m sure you’ve already put some of this together, but I’m from Oxfordin Hills. My parents weren’t just killed at random, they were part of the masses that got caught in the dark magic army from years ago. I barely escaped – the only reason I got out was because I’ve always been small, and I was able to hide in a tiny closet in our house. I waited there for three days, until the smoke cleared from the air, until the screaming stopped, until I was sure they were all gone.”

              Michael felt like the room was spinning. “Three days,” he murmured. Gavin kept talking as though he hadn’t said anything.

              “I told you I had a ‘rough go of things’  -- ha. That doesn’t begin to cover it. You know what one of the first things you said to me was? When we set out on our trip? That your family never had to turn to ‘crime or that shit’. Well, I didn’t have that luxury. That is exactly what I had to do in order to survive. I fled Oxfordin Hills and the very first village I came to, I stole. I stole everything I could carry and ran, through the night, endless running until I reached the next village. That time, I was caught by the woman I was stealing from. Instead of just dropping my things and running, I picked up a frying pan and swung it at her head. Killed her instantly. I was eight.”

              Michael couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

              “Same cycle, over and over, until I hit a city on the edge of The Woodlands. I messed with the wrong people there, and they gave me an offer – join their crew, or—” he cut himself off. “Well, it wasn’t a pretty offer, I’ll say that. So I helped them. For years, I did what they needed. I stole, I broke into places, I lied and swindled and cheated and I killed, Michael. You want to know why I can handle myself with a knife? Because for years, that was the only thing I knew how to do. When I robbed Geoff’s caravan, it wasn’t some random thing I happened upon – it was a setup. Some other people in the crew set the trap, breaking the axle of his cart. Myself and one other guy were sent to extract the goods. ‘Course, no one told it was a bloody Lord we were stealing from. We were totally unprepared, and the other guy was cut down almost instantly. Then, well the rest of that story you’ve heard. Geoff took pity on me for whatever reason, and I changed my ways. Or at least, I tried, but some habits just don’t go away.  I was caught trying to steal from the court on more than one occasion, despite the fact that I kept digging myself deeper into debt with Geoff. Eventually, he was the one who figured out how to make something useful of it. Made me a spy instead. I could play the part; look unassuming, infiltrate difficult locations, scout for information.”

              “That’s what you’re doing here,” Michael said slowly. “This is all a sham. You’re not here to negotiate, you’re here to steal something.”

              Gavin nodded. “Not sure how much has been passed down to the militia but there are rumors that Flynt is trying to raise a dark magic army, just like the one from twenty years ago. He’s starting to mobilize, so Geoff needed a reason to get me close to the court, giving me the chance to look through his office and take any information I can find. I’ve either got to copy it or burn it, depending on how it goes.”

              Michael struggled for words, overloaded with information. “Why not just tell me this from the beginning?”

              And now, Gavin looked properly miserable. The whole time, recounting his story, Gavin’s face had been carefully neutral, even if his voice tremored. But now he looked at Michael pleadingly, real emotion seeping into his face.

              “I wasn’t allowed to. I mean, at first I didn’t want to, but then – I couldn’t Michael.”

              “Did you not trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

              “No, it wasn’t like that at all – “ Gavin said, but Michael cut him off, voice rising in anger.

              “Did you not think I could hold a secret, especially for you? Gods, I bet you and Geoff were having a great time before we left. ‘Big, dumb, Michael, he’s just a guard, he’ll never know better’. Bet you didn’t care at all that you, master thief, might get caught, and get us both killed!”

              “Michael no, it’s not any of that at all. Geoff couldn’t –  he couldn’t risk anyone finding out, it wasn’t about you, it was about putting the mission first, and he made me promise not to say anything. But I couldn’t go through with it, I had to let you know, about the truth of what we’re doing – about me.” He looked up at Michael pleadingly. “Please, please understand.”

              When Gavin reached for his hand, that was the last straw. Michael wrenched himself away.

              “No. You know what? Fuck you Gavin. ‘Putting the mission first’, really? You didn’t want to tell me in the beginning, fine, but after all that it took you until the morning of to grow a conscience and actually say something? And gods! Telling me you’re an orphan, that Geoff adopted you – what a sweet little story that was. Nicely covers up anything wrong you did in your past.”

              Gavin looked stricken, and some part of Michael was making himself sick too. He wanted to stop, but couldn’t, blazing forward.

              He adopted a horrible accent. “’Let’s go to the festival with my pal Michael! Let’s get bevs and pretend like everything’s fine, when I’m a big, bloody liar!’” Michael sneered. “Well I’ve had enough. Good luck with Flynt, I hope he sees right through you like the fraud you are.”

              With that Michael stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and cutting off Gavin’s protests. He was so mad he couldn’t think straight, mind whirring. He grabbed their horse – no, his horse – from the stable, taking it and spurring them both out of the capital, out of the city, away from its people and noise and merriment.

              For an indeterminable amount of time, Michael did nothing but ride. He wavered back and forth, livid at Gavin for hiding everything, for not trusting him enough to say something sooner, and then understanding of the predicament he was in.

Michael was loyal to Geoff too, wasn’t that one of the first things Gavin had known about him? And if Geoff really did pull Gavin out of a life of crime, if Geoff mentored him and took him in as his own… well Michael could understand how it would be hard for Gavin to go against Geoff’s direct orders.

              But gods on the other hand, all the information that Gavin was hiding… Sure, Gavin was right, some of it Michael himself had put together. The lost parents, the fruit, the strange accent he couldn’t place – Gavin was from Oxfordin Hills, an orphan of the dark magic war. The rest of it though, Michael could never have fathomed. To get into such a life at a young age, the thought made bile rise up in the back of Michael’s throat.

              Even still, that wasn’t really Gavin’s fault. He was alone, with no one to look after him, and he made a few bad decisions. Should that really be what defines him now?

              On and on Michael went, unsure of how he felt or what to do. With a jolt, Michael suddenly realized that the sun was sinking low in the sky, and he had spent most of the day aimlessly wandering. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to that same inn and face Gavin when he returned from his meeting with Coal, but on the other hand, Michael didn’t fancy the idea of staying out iIn the wilds for the night.

              As he turned back towards the capital city, a line from Gavin crossed Michael’s mind, nothing to do with the situation on hand at all. “What if your soulmate isn’t who you think they’ll be?” The way Gavin had looked at him when he asked the question, so serious and piercing, and those strange follow-up questions, it made Michael pause. Why had Gavin cared so desperately about the state of Michael’s soulmate?

              Another thought dawned on Michael too. Gavin had seen his mark – they both knew that, it had been brought up. But Gavin didn’t offer any information about his own mark. If anything, the whole conversation seemed to make Gavin a little cagey. Michael had assumed it was just the usual level of discomfort people felt when talking about intimate soulmate details, or maybe Gavin’s self-esteem issues. But what if…

              Gods, Michael didn’t know, he couldn’t know for sure, but the chance that maybe, there was more to him and Gavin than he had realized… it made Michael’s heart race. And as he spurred his horse back to the city, faster and faster with a growing sense of urgency, he realized that it didn’t really matter, one way or another, just as he had told Gavin the night before.

              Whether or not Gavin was his soulmate, Michael was too far gone to let him recklessly endanger himself, secret past or not. Michael was in it for the long haul, and he wasn’t about to fuck this up because of some hurt feelings. Faster and faster he raced across the land, urging the city to come closer, praying beyond all hope that Gavin was ok.

*

              Gavin was fucked. The meeting had gone horrendously – right off the bat Gavin was nervous, twitchy in a way he normally wasn’t when assuming these kinds of roles. Flynt picked up on it immediately, dismissive of Gavin and barely giving him the time of day.

              “This is it?” the Lord had sneered derisively. “This is the delegation the ‘great’ Lord Ramsey sent to me?”

              “Well, your Lordship,” Gavin struggled, “the other courier was delayed. We ran into a problem with bandits.”

              “Bandits?” Flynt said, eyes flashing dangerously. “Surely you don’t mean to imply that a territory such as my own would have a problem as lowly and banal as bandits.”

              Gavin grit his teeth. Thieves, bandits, and the like lived in every city, and Flynt knew that. Still, he was vain, and clearly trying to get a rise out of Gavin.

              “No, your Lord. Outside your lands. But they still managed to cause some complications for my companion.”

              “Well, that’s your own problem,” Flynt said, looking down to pick dirt from under his finger nails. “And besides, I don’t know what Ramsey wants. It’s clear that my land stretches to the bend in Gulch River, his petty village people out there need to relocate, or learn which territory they actually lie on.”

              Gavin clenched and unclenched his fist. “Well you see, actually in the last treaty we made, you gave that land to us – to Lord Ramsey, I mean. He’s willing to negotiate, of course, but the initial boundaries must be established…”

              Gavin trailed off as Flynt rose from his chair. “No, I’m quite certain Ramsey is mistaken. That land is ours. Have your people removed, or we shall remove them ourselves. You can leave now.”

              Gavin tried futilely to talk to the Lord, but despite standing mere feet away, he was blatantly ignored. In another time, Gavin might’ve left the court and returned the next morning, determined to wear down Coal through persistence if nothing else. Plus, the added nights in the city would mean better time to plan and organize the break-in.

              Now, however, feeling rattled by his fight and the lack of Michael’s presence, Gavin had to rush things. He needed to be on the road by night, when it was best to flee, but that meant sneaking into the office at dusk. It was riskier, light still filtering clear across the court, making him much more visible. His one small piece of luck was that he had found out Flynt liked to have extravagant dinners, especially at Candlelights, and he knew the office would be deserted for at least an hour or so.

              Turning his sash over in his hands, he watched the green pattern wash across the fabric. He tied it around his waist, instantly feeling a blanket of magic cocoon around him. The sash had been one of Geoff’s most valuable items, which he gifted to Gavin upon first officially employing him. Made by a team of incredibly skilled magi, if used the right way it could transform the wearer’s looks into something completely unrecognizable. He wasn’t able to control the appearance in any way, Gavin only knew that to an outside observer, he would look entirely different – not just in facial features, but in stature and weight as well. The magic would only last for two hours before it would begin to fade, and after two and a half hours it was completely worn out, and wouldn’t work for another day or so. Luckily, Gavin wouldn’t need to use it on this trip after tonight – or at least, he hoped not.

Creeping along the courtyard of his home, Gavin managed to hide behind hedges and press himself against walls, narrowly avoiding the guards. Once he was below the office he quickly scaled the stone walls, shimmying a small piece of metal beneath the window latch and swinging the glass open. He dropped himself inside silently, immediately heading to the desk to search for papers. To his luck, he found what he was looking for; correspondences from Flynt’s allies, diagrams of battle plans, and even an extensive notebook regarding the dark magic Flynt was researching. Gavin pulled more and more papers, stuffing them hastily into his bag, grabbing anything that seemed relevant.

It was just then that he heard a shout, and his head whipped around. The open window, of course. In his haste, Gavin had made a stupid mistake, leaving the window wide open when it should’ve been shut. A guard patrolling the top of the wall had spotted him, and he knew that surely more would be coming soon. Rushing, he pulled a flash of oil from his tunic, dripping it over the desk and across the room, lighting matches and dropping them as he made his way out. Heat was already beginning to wash over him from the small fire, and he could only hope that the blaze would catch strong enough to burn the rest of Flynt’s plans before the staff could put it out.

Sticking his head out the window, Gavin cursed, reeling back immediately as an arrow went whizzing by his head. He looked around frantically – he couldn’t climb back out the window, there were too many guards already gathered on the wall across from him, and more beginning to come into the courtyard. Behind him was an ever-growing flame, and a door that led into the heart of Flynt’s home, a place Gavin knew nothing about. He hadn’t thought he would need to navigate the court itself, and thus knew nothing of its layout. Still, racing through the hallways seemed better than climbing out to his certain death, and he was just about to race through the fire when he heard shouting from below.

Gavin nearly thought he was hallucinating as Michael came charging in, cutting down three guards with one arc of his sword.

“GAVIN!” Michael bellowed, searching frantically for him.

“Up here!” Gavin yelled, but Michael looked right past him. Gavin cursed. With the sash on, Michael had no idea who he was. Michael was still circling furiously below, parrying the guards on the ground. Gavin would just have to take advantage of the commotion to scale back down the wall, and hope Michael wouldn’t think he was one of Coal’s men. His feet had just touched the ground when he heard his name again, and whirled around to meet Michael’s eyes. He saw confusion flicker across Michael’s face, and then his eyes widened as everything seemed to move in slow motion.

Distracted, Michael didn’t see the knife that was coming up on its side. Without another thought Gavin flung himself forward, landing on top of the guy and taking the knife directly to his shoulder. He cried out in pain, vision flashing white as everything narrowed to the hot point above his chest. He became dimly aware of Michael yelling, the flash of a sword going past him, and then being hauled upward.

It was hard to focus past the roaring in his ear, but he managed to make out Michael screaming “LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” and somewhere found the strength to pull himself fully into the saddle. As Michael charged out of the courtyard and towards the gates, everything fully faded to black.

*

The moment he entered the city, Michael knew something was wrong. Though there was still music in the streets and festival cheer in the air, a lot of people looked confused, faces turned towards the court. That’s when Michael heard the shouting, and made his way over as fast as he could. He was looking everywhere for Gavin, desperate for a flash of that familiar green tunic, but all he saw were guards. He swung wildly, knocking out a few and unable to stop himself from calling out Gavin’s name. He thought he heard a noise but still didn’t see anything, and in a moment was too busy keeping himself from being stabbed to continue searching.

That’s when he saw the man jump down from the wall. He turned and met Michael’s gaze, and it felt like Michael’s whole world shifted, and then fell back into place. The man was a complete stranger, absolutely nothing about him was familiar, and yet the eyes – they were brown, and the wrong shape (they looked, strangely enough, kind of like Michael’s eyes), but he somehow felt that they were Gavin’s. Then the strange man was surging forward, knocking a guard aside who would’ve surely stabbed Michael, and if he wasn’t Gavin, at least he was an ally.

Desperately riding out of the city, it was all Michael could do to keep them both in focus. He heard groaning behind him, and knew at once it was Gavin. Michael rode out just far enough to make sure they were safe, that they weren’t being followed, before hauling Gavin to the ground. The man looked like himself once again, hair light and unkempt, tunic green, sash across his waist – Michael paused. The sash was wrong. Instead of gray, it was a mottled green, a mess of different patterns that would be chaotic except – except Michael knew that sash. Then Gavin groaned again, and Michael snapped back to focus.

He stripped Gavin of his shirt, and though he saw Gavin’s soulmark bare across his chest, for the moment Michael ignored it. Instead he grabbed one of Gavin’s hands, bringing it up against the wound.

“Hey Gav, buddy? I need you to put pressure on this while I grab the med kit and some bandages, ok?”

Gavin let out a mess of sounds that wasn’t coherent, but he did press his palm a little firmer against his shoulder, and so Michael had the ability to run and get what he needed.

“Gav, hey, look at me,” Michael said, fingertips gripping the bottom of Gavin’s chin and waiting until his green eyes locked on Michael’s, if a bit fuzzy. “I’m going to have to give you stitches. It’s going to hurt like hell, but it’ll stop the bleeding, okay?”

Gavin nodded, a slight dip of his head. He seemed to fade in and out of consciousness, and once Michael was completely done and everything was bandaged over, he was passed out. Assured that no one was coming after them, and that he had done all he could for Gavin, Michael slumped against a tree, letting out a breath.

Finally, finally he let his eyes wander over Gavin’s soulmark, tracing the familiar pattern he had had on his back since the day he was born. Perhaps the moment should’ve felt revelatory, like the entire earth had moved or like he had finally come alive, or any other number of clichés he had read about. Instead, it felt exactly like coming home.

While Gavin slept, Michael churned over what to say, over how to bring it up. He came up with and trashed a dozen lines, ranging from “Hey, it looks like we’re soulmates” to, “So. I’ve shown you mine, and you’ve shown me yours?” In the end, when Gavin woke up and seemed to be actually conscious of what was going on, what Michael said was,

“What’s up with your sash?”

Gavin blinked at him.

“It uh. It was gray before. Now it’s green. With a pattern. Like our--” He stopped talking, berating himself silently.

Nice going there, Michael. Real smooth.

“Oh,” Gavin croaked, then cleared his throat. “It’s magic. It can change my whole appearance. It normally looks gray to everyone, even when it’s in use, but I guess you broke it somehow.” Gavin cracked a smile at him. “Figures, you’d be the one to break through a century-old magical enchantment.”

“Maybe it’s not broken, I’m just so awesome it doesn’t work on me. Because it didn’t, work on me that is.” When Gavin tilted his head, Michael explained. “You looked different, at the court, but I could still tell somehow.”

“I guess you’re just awesome like that,” Gavin agreed, and then when it went quiet, he kept going. “Or maybe, it’s because you’re my soulmate.” Michael looked at him, fear and hope and a dozen other emotions battling it out in the small space between his ribcages.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin said. “You know, about not saying something sooner. I just…”

“No, no it’s ok,” Michael said, words tripping over themselves in a haste to get out. “I understand. It’s fine too, about before. About everything you told me. And not telling me sooner. I get it.”

Now it was Gavin’s turn to look conflicted. “You do?”

“I really do, I promise. I was angry, but I was also being an asshole. You were just doing what Geoff told you. And if I had been through the shit you had, I’d be afraid to opening up too.”

“You know,” Michael continued, “you asked me how I’d feel, if my soulmate wasn’t who I thought they were. I have to say, it feels just fine. Better than fine, actually. And when I said that I didn’t really care if I met my soulmate or not? Utter horseshit.”

A slow smile began to creep up Gavin’s face, and Michael felt his lips echoing in return.

“Yeah?” Gavin said.

“Yeah. Turns out meeting my soulmate is pretty fucking awesome.”

“Huh,” Gavin said. “Dunno if I can say the same. Mine’s kind of a prick.” He was full-on grinning now, leaning towards Michael.

“A prick!” Michael exclaimed, hand flying towards his heart in mock hurt. “Well, then I guess I should’ve left your ass for Coal’s men, if I’m that much of a jerk.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Michael’s voice went quiet, warmth seeping into his bones. “I’m glad I didn’t too.”

“Hey Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d quite like to kiss you.”

“Well then why don’t you shut up, you big idiot, and come do that.”