#tsav

You stopped walking and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to find some sort of inner wisdom that would assist you in navigating this social situation, and defaulted on what you saw others do with Teoritta. 

You looked over your shoulder and smiled brightly at the hero. “You sure did. Good job.”

Rhyno nodded contently.

You put that bit of information in the back of your mind. Seemed it worked on more than just goddesses.

“Huh?? Why does that guy get any praise,” Tsav interjected, bouncing on his heel as he passed you and continued up the mountainpath. “All he did was shut up! I could do that! I could win that kinda game anyday.”

“Comrade Tsav, don’t be a bad loser.” Rhyno said cheerfully, and when he also passed you by, you once again felt relieved not to have to carry his bag. How he even got it off the ground, with it holding his entire artillery armor, you didn’t want to know. He looked over his shoulder to you. “What do I win?”

Taking a deep breath, you started walking again, not sure if your moment of contemplation had yielded any results whatsoever. “I didn’t think of anything.”

“…Then I’ll think of something,” Rhyno said, satisfied enough with that, and marched ahead as if having the resident probable psychopath think of a reward wasn’t bad enough. 

You pressed down another deep sigh, wondering if he’d ask to shell a mine just to maybe lure out some faeries. Last time he’d wanted to do that, it’d taken Xylo and Kivia both hammering home how shit of an idea that was for him to relent. You didn’t have that kinda sway with the other heroes, so you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stop him if he did. 

Tsav groaned loudly. “That’s not how games work! You need a reward. Otherwise, what’s the point?” He spun around mid-step, walking backward now, arms thrown wide like he was presenting an invisible audience. “A game of ‘who can be silent the longest’ without any kind of spoils is just… being… shut up.”

Both of them stopped walking and looked at eachother…

Before slowly turning towards you.

You avoided eye-contact with both of them, not eager to have them realize that had been the whole point. If they’d feel you tricked them, they’d not get less annoying.

“Not like you would’ve won anyways.” You said, motioning towards Tsav. “You lost within seconds.”

“For strategic reasons,” he shot back immediately, forgetting the realization he’d probably just had and continued walking. “I was luring you all into a false sense of security.”

“You talked the entire time,” Rhyno added, also dropping the point in order to hammer home an insecurity. “Of the three of us, the weak link is clear.”

Tsav ignored him.

The path narrowed as the three of you climbed higher, jagged stones giving way to loose gravel that slid underfoot. Wind brushed past in uneven gusts, carrying with it the dry scent of dust and something colder from further up the mountain, which was a relief to your sweat stained skin. You adjusted your grip on your bag again, shoulders burning.

“I’ll take the rear,” Rhyno said suddenly, like he had just come to a very important conclusion. “As my prize.”

“You already spent the entire time behind us,” you replied, glancing back at him. “Not much of an upgrade.”

“That was before I won.”

He looked over his shoulder at you, eyes lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.

“And since then,” he added, “you have both dropped rank.”

You let out a short laugh under your breath. “That was five minutes ago.”

“It still counts.”

You shook your head, amused despite yourself. “What, you miss keeping an eye on us already? Never pegged you for the controlling type.”

Rhyno only shrugged, like the accusation did not bother him in the slightest. Then he stepped aside, lifting a hand in a slow, almost courteous gesture for you to pass.

“Victory changes a man.”

You exhaled slowly through your nose, staring at the ground as you walked. This was… manageable, you thought as you gained on Rhyno and walked in front of him again. Having him in the back meant you constantly had a weird gaze trained on you, but it beat having him think of something else.

A loose stone shifted under your boot.

Your balance tipped.

Before the thought even fully formed, your body lurched sideways-

-and a hand caught your arm.

Tsav.

“Whoa there,” he said, steadying you with surprising firmness. Up close, the usual restless energy in him had sharpened into focus. “Try not to fall off the mountain. That’d be a pretty lame way to lose.”

You blinked, a little thrown off. “…Lose what?”

“The game,” he said, as if it were obvious. Then, after a beat, he grinned again, that same crooked, boyish grin snapping back into place. “Pretty sure dying disqualifies you.”

Rhyno glanced back. “Does it? That’s a new rule.”

“I’m adding it now.”

“You can’t add rules after the game ends,” Rhyno said.

“It hasn’t ended!” Tsav insisted. “I’m making a new round. Starting now.”

You straightened, testing your footing before carefully pulling your arm free, trying to be nonchalant about almost dying. “…What are the rules this time?”

Tsav tapped a finger against his chin, humming under his breath as he turned and started walking again. This time he faced forward, though he kept glancing back like he did not trust either of you not to argue without him.

“Alright,” he said at last. “New game. Whoever reaches the top first wins.”

Rhyno lifted his hand without hesitation. “I have already won.”

“And you have already cashed your prize. We are starting over. I just said so.” Tsav spun around mid-step, nearly losing his footing in the process. “You cannot win before we even start.”

“It feels unfair, considering I’m carrying a lot of armor and a race will negate my prize.”

“Too bad! Should’ve packed lighter and chosen something better.” Tsav waved his arms. “No complaining allowed either!”

“I’m not complaining.”

“That counts!”

You watched them go back and forth, their voices overlapping as the wind picked up again, tugging at your clothes, carrying their argument up the mountain.

“…Tsav?” You called out.

“Yeah?”

“What do we get if we win?”

He glanced back at you. For once, he didn’t answer immediately.

“I dunno,” he said, which meant he hadn’t thought about it yet, just like you had. “Something good, probably.”

Rhyno nodded. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

Tsav threw a rock at him, and all decided that was the starting signal.

Tsav bolted ahead with a whoop, nearly slipping on the loose gravel before catching himself and laughing like it was part of the plan. Rhyno followed at a steady, unbothered pace, the weight of his armor clanking softly with each step but somehow not slowing him nearly as much as it should have.

You didn’t sprint like Tsav, but you also didn’t have the steady endurance Rhyno had. You were supposed to be a glass cannon! You’d sit in the rear, away from all those disgusting monsters, and you blew stuff up. Not a lot of endurance needed for any of that.

An hour of walking passed this way, but you were exhausted and really wanted a drink. Rhyno passed you when you uncapped your water flask and seemed disappointed by it. You heard him mumbling about lost prizes, but decided not to worry about the ramblings of a madman. 

A few steps. Then more. Careful at first, but the distance between you and the other two stretched quickly. You could’ve started sprinting, but the near fall had stolen some of your confidence. Plus, losing didn’t mean that much to you, it just meant you’d finally be left to your devices for the first time in days. It wasn’t like the mission started anytime soon.

“Hey!” Tsav called back once, already several bends ahead. “No falling behind! I’m not gonna bust my ass trying to run while you take it easy!”

“I’m not-” you started, but your voice got swallowed by the wind.

They disappeared around a curve.

Just like that.

You kept moving.

The path split not long after, two narrow trails winding upward around opposite sides of a jagged outcrop. You slowed, looking from one to the other. Both looked equally worn. Equally steep. Equally… correct.

You tried to find out which way they’d gone. There were tracks going both ways, and you weren’t the kind of savant who memorised the shape of your fellow heroes soles. You tried to see which track was the freshest and deepest, since that surely had to be Rhyno, but to you it all looked like dirt.

The wind picked up again, sharper this time. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the fork. For once you really tried to hone in on Tsav’s blathering in the distance. 

Nothing answered you, and what should have been a simple task unraveled the longer you stood there, because all you had needed to do was pick a direction, keep moving, and eventually catch up.

When you lifted your gaze, the problem became obvious, as the mountain range stretched endlessly ahead in uneven, jagged lines, peaks rising over one another in layers that blurred together until none of them stood out as familiar or correct.

Some were narrow and sharp, others wide and sloping, but from where you stood they might as well have been identical, offering no clear path, no landmark, no hint of where you were supposed to go.

Your grip tightened on your bag.

Well… You’d gotten your silence. 

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself as you forced the doubt down, then chose a direction anyway and started walking.

Within minutes you were reminded of why you didn’t like travelling alone.

Without Tsav’s constant chatter or Rhyno’s steady creepy-sounding interjections, the mountain felt… lonely. Every step echoed loudly. Every shift of gravel felt like it might give way entirely. And worst of all, you were left exclusively with your thoughts. 

You kept going.

The path narrowed further, twisting between tall, uneven stones that blocked your view of anything beyond a few meters ahead. The air felt thinner here. 

As you looked around, you spotted some moving figures in the distance. With a surge of relief, you hastened towards them, only to realize as you approached that the men sitting around the makeshift campfire in an indent of the mountain, were definitely not your fellow heroes.

You’d picked the wrong path.

Three of them looked up as you approached, and called after you when you’d immediately turned around and tried to sneak away. You caught a glance at all three of them and frowned, cursing your luck.

Rough-looking. Layered in mismatched gear, cloaks pulled low, faces half-shadowed. Not travelers. Probably bandits or mercenaries.

One of them smiled.

“Well,” Bandit number one said, voice easy in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “Look what wandered off the path.”

Bandit number two, who’d been in the midst of roasting a bird, tilted his head, gaze flicking over your bag. “That’s a heavy load for someone climbing alone.”

You looked over your shoulder, trying to retrace your steps to figure out where you’d gone awry. Was it the fork, or did you turn left or right somewhere you shouldn’t have? “I’m not alone.”

“Mm.” They didn’t sound convinced. “Don’t hear anyone else.”

Neither did you.

“We’re just passing through,” you said, trying to remember how Xylo handled these things. You could kill all three, but you’d be punished severely for it if any official ever found out. Unlike some of the other members of the penal squad, you didn’t really like being stuck in a jail cell for weeks. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“‘We,’” the third one echoed, amused. “Funny word to use when it’s still just you standing there.”

A pause.

“Drop the bag,” the first one said, almost gently. “We’ll make this easy.”

For a second, your mind stalled, searching for what to do. For the right response. The right tone. The right thing that would make this resolve the way conversations were supposed to. 

You could threaten them? 

Maybe, but you didn’t feel especially threatening right now. Not enough to make them back off, anyway. If anyone else had been here, they could’ve put on a big show, but you were tired, sweaty and kind of sad at having gotten lost. None of these things made you feel especially ‘powerful’ at the moment. 

You clasped your hands together, forcing a nervous smile that did not quite hold. “S surely we can pretend we never saw each other, right? I am just a lonesome traveler, lost from my companions, and it would be… good karma to let me go.”

Gravel shifted behind you, soft at first, then heavier as one of them moved to circle around.

In front of you, the leader’s smile thinned into something sharper.

Another step sounded behind you, closer now, close enough that you could feel the presence without turning.

“Do not make us ask twice.” His gaze dragged over you in a way that made your shoulders tense, slow and deliberate, until it caught at your neck. You flinched when his expression changed. “Wait, she is a-”

A crack split the air.

The leader dropped before the word could finish, not a misstep but an instant absence, his upper body gone as if it had never been there. What remained of him carried forward a fraction too long before collapsing, blood spraying across the campfire and making it hiss where it struck.

The second shot followed almost immediately.

The man behind you did not even have time to react, his step cutting short as something tore through him in a burst of green energy, leaving nothing where his head had been.

The third man froze in place, caught between instinct and terror, his body tensing as if he had not yet decided whether to run or beg.

For a heartbeat, everything held still.

Then he turned to run.

Another crack.

He went down before he made it three steps, a heap of gore on the stone all that remained of him.

Silence rushed back in.

Your gaze lifted slowly.

Searching for the origin of those blasts.

High above, wedged between jagged stone, barely more than a silhouette against the sky.

Tsav.

As if he felt your eyes on him, which he probably could considering his amazing eyesight, he shifted, lowering the weapon slightly.

“Oi!” his voice carried down, bright and sharp against the wind. “What are you doing down there? You planning to just stand there all day?”

Something in your chest loosened all at once.

Relief.

Unexpectedly, you laughed. It slipped out of you, light and a little unsteady, but real.

“I got lost!” you called back, already moving, your steps quicker now despite the uneven ground. “There were too many paths!”

“No kidding!” he shouted as he motioned the distance between the two of you vertically. “You went completely off route!”

“I know!”

“You’re terrible at this game!”

“I know!”

But you were still smiling.

The climb toward him was steep, forcing you to grab onto rock more than once, your bag dragging at your shoulders, but it didn’t feel as heavy anymore. Each step felt clearer, more certain, like the mountain had finally decided to make sense again.

Tsav crouched near the edge when you got close, reaching down without hesitation.

You took his hand.

He pulled you up in one smooth motion, steadying you for a brief second before letting go.

“Thank you for finding me!,” you replied cheerfully, before growing a little more serious. “Let’s not tell anyone about this. I don’t want any shit over dead bandits.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, I get hit for that every week.” He shrugged, glancing off toward the distance. “Why didn’t you attack them, though?”

“I was trying to think of how to convince them to just let me go.” You said, choosing to ignore any incriminating comments Tsav may or may not have made. “Cause if they just left, I wouldn’t need to hurt them, and then I wouldn’t get in trouble either.”

“Wha! You’re such a good person.” Tsav said, eyes wide. “I don’t think I’d have thought of that.”

“Well, it didn’t end up working anyway…”

Tsav clasped your shoulder enthusiastically, startling you out of your pity party. “I’m sure they appreciated the effort you took to save their lives!" 

You looked back at the piles of gore below you, and decided not to correct Tsav’s lacking moral compass this time.

From up there, the view stretched wide. Paths twisting below made you feel lucky you’d not strayed too far off the right one.  The fork you’d hesitated at now seemed small and insignificant.

With Tsav leading the way, it was a mere ten minutes walk before the peak of the mountain came into view. Come morning, it’d be the camp from which the three of you would siege hell onto the incoming demon blight. The top was high, high enough to be obscured from sight with the low hanging clouds, but not high enough to stop either of you from raining fire onto the blight. 

Standing at the unofficial finish line like nothing in the world could possibly rush him, Rhyno stood, looking as unsettling as he always did, just standing there, waiting for the two of you to arrive with that creepy grin…

“I’ve won,” he called, raising his hand again.

Tsav groaned immediately. “You did not! That didn’t count! We encountered enemies!”

“External interference,” Rhyno replied calmly. “I remained on course.”

“Bullshit!” 

“I was simply more competitive.” Rhyno looked at you, and like usual you felt a goosebump rise in the back of your neck. What a creeeeeep! “So, comrade Tsav, what is my prize?” 

“Hmpf…” Tsav crossed his arms. “I was gonna win and get all your bedrolls so I could sleep really well while you two were gonna sleep on the floor.”

“Ah that’s a wonderful idea!” Rhyno immediately said. “I’ll gladly accept that.”

You slapped the back of Tsav’s head. “Why would you say that! It’s gonna be freezing tonight! You could’ve told him something else.”

“Ugh…” He complained alongside you. “Too late for that.”

“Don’t worry comrades.” Rhyno held open his arms, in a gesture that was probably meant to be magnanimous, but instead came across as very sarcastic. “If the temperatures drop, you are both most welcome to share in my prize.”

“I’m not cuddling up to you.” You said immediately.

“Aye, aye.” Tsav seconded.

You lay back on the rocky grassbed, the uneven ground pressing faintly through your already aching back as you stared up at the dim outline of your tent roof, its fabric shifting slightly whenever the wind moved across the camp.

At first, you tried to convince yourself it was fine, that the exhaustion of the day would be enough to carry you through the night, that the thin barrier between you and the outside world would hold.

Then the cold settled in properly.

It did not arrive all at once. It crept in slowly, patient and certain, slipping through the seams of your clothes, threading through the fabric of your undergarments, and spreading into the spaces where your body was still and unguarded. The sweat you’d accumulated throughout the day now felt like ice water, making you shiver.

Your breathing changed before you fully registered it, growing more deliberate as the chill deepened, settling into your chest and along your arms until even the air you inhaled felt sharp.

Your fingers curled slightly against your sides, an instinctive attempt to trap warmth that was already gone, but there was nothing to hold onto.

“…Tsav,” you said quietly, knowing he was in the tent next to yours.

“Yeah?”

“…Is it supposed to be this cold?”

A pause.

“…Yeah,” he admitted. “Kinda underestimated that part.”

“Why did you offer up our bedding.”

“Yeah, my bad. Seems like shit idea by now.”

Raising your voice so you could be heard from any tent on the impromptu campsite, you said “I’m not cuddling with Rhyno.” 

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Rhyno emerged from his side of the camp, his tentflap open so all could see the absurd mound of blankets and padding he’d accumulated, a nest so excessive it almost looked theatrical, which meant he’d already had like four persons’ worth of bedding with him. You sat up despite knowing better.

Firelight from the nearby campfire flickered across his face, catching the gleam in his eyes and the wide, satisfied grin stretching across his features.

“Comrades!” he called out, voice rich with mock concern. “I hear you suffer there!”

He spread his arms slightly, as though presenting himself and his ridiculous pile of warmth as some grand solution.

“There is no need for you all to suffer the entire night.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your hand closed around a small rock from the ground inside your tent, and you flung it at him. “Pervert!”

Tsav followed your lead immediately, snatching up a pebble and tossing it with equal enthusiasm. 

“Creep!”

Rhyno shifted just enough to avoid both projectiles, the stones landing harmlessly somewhere behind him. He placed a hand dramatically against his chest, feigning injury.

“You wound me, both.”

“Just give us back our bedding!” you shot back, pushing yourself up further on your elbows despite the cold biting harder with the movement.

“And refund my prize?” Rhyno replied, his expression twisting into exaggerated offense, as if the idea itself was outrageous. “No.”

It took very little time for Tsav to break.

“…It would just be for warmth,” Tsav said.

You immediately whined, ignoring how petulant you sounded. “You just said-”

“I know what I said,” he cut in quickly. “I am choosing to ignore past me. He was foolish and did not understand the consequences of his actions. It's cold as shit.”

“You agreed with me.” You begged, knowing you’d falter if Tsav did.

“I am also choosing to ignore that.”

You sat up and pushed your way out of your tent, the fabric brushing against your shoulders as you forced yourself into the open air. The wind hit your face immediately, sharp and unkind, cutting through whatever warmth had managed to linger inside.

Still, it was no surprise when you looked over and saw Tsav already in motion, half out of his own tent and preparing to make his way toward Rhyno’s.

He did not meet your eyes, borderline guilty in his refusal to look at you.

Another gust rolled through the camp, stronger this time, dragging cold air through every gap in your clothes and making the entire world feel briefly hostile.

You exhaled slowly, watching the faint cloud of your breath disappear almost instantly.

“…None of the others are here,” you repeated.

Tsav stopped walking and turned to you, eager. “Yeah!”

“And it does not mean anything.”

He nodded “Obviously.”

“And we are only doing it because of the cold.”

His nodding accelerated. “Clearly.”

A pause.

“…Okay,” you said. “But I’m very serious, Tsav, if you run your mouth about this, I’m killing you until the memory of this entire day is gone.”

Tsav was already moving.

“Great,” he muttered, making his way over without even pretending to hesitate this time. “Glad we are all in agreement.”

You took a second longer.

Then another.

Then, carefully, you pushed yourself up and followed, every step feeling much more deliberate than it should have been.

Rhyno watched the both of you approach his tent with the same creepy, calm expression as always, like this outcome had been inevitable from the start. Walking towards him, your neck hair raised and you felt like you were dirtying yourself just agreeing to this.

“Welcome,” he said, opening his arms. “I’m glad you two saw sense. I was so worried you’d prefer sleeping on rocks in this cold over sharing warmth between fellow heroes. I’d almost be insulted.”

“Do not word it like that” you replied immediately, already seeing the expressions of your fellow heroes on you complying with any of this.

Tsav dropped down first without ceremony, pressing into Rhyno’s side with zero hesitation. He reached over and yanked part of a blanket toward himself like he was reclaiming stolen property.

“Wow,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed as he settled in. “You are actually warm, Rhyno!”

“Of course,” Rhyno replied smoothly.

You hovered for half a second, every instinct telling you this was a mistake.

Then the wind cut through again and the shivering of the cold overcame the shivering of the situation.

You sat down.

Stiffly. Carefully. Leaving what felt like a very deliberate amount of space between you and Rhyno.

It did not last.

The moment you settled, Rhyno shifted, pulling part of the blanket around your shoulders in one easy motion. The warmth hit you immediately. It wrapped around you, soaked into your clothes, chased away the worst of the cold in seconds.

It caught you off guard.

Your shoulders loosened before you could stop them.

“…Fine,” you muttered under your breath.

Rhyno hummed softly beside you, something almost pleased in the sound. The firelight flickered across his face as he leaned back slightly, clearly settling in for the night.

“This fits better than I expected,” he said, and despite the comfort, you tensed a bit, knowing some uncomfortable line would leave his mouth. He had a penchant for doing that. 

Tsav shifted slightly on the other side. “What?”

Rhyno didn’t stop.

“I could get used to this,” he continued, gaze dropping briefly as if evaluating you both. “This is comfortable for all of us, is it not? Separate tents require more supplies, more effort, more distance. This way, I can keep an eye on you both. That is preferable.”

“This is getting weird,” Tsav said flatly.

“You would not even need your own bedding anymore,” Rhyno added in the same even tone, as though he were discussing logistics rather than anything personal. “You could remain here. With me.”

“Okay,” you said immediately, pressing a hand against his arm as you started to push yourself away, “that is enough.”

“And why stop there?” Rhyno continued, uninterrupted, his voice still calm in a way that made it worse. “It is unconventional, yes, but having two lovers would hardly be the most questionable part of this arrangement. It is efficient. If one were to become unavailable, the other would remain, and then there is always the question of continuity, of replacement, of-”

Tsav elbowed him hard.

“Shut up.”

You shoved at him at the same time. “Stop talking.”

Rhyno blinked, mildly surprised, then huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Such hostility,” he murmured. “I was merely trying to convey that you two are my absolute favourites.”

“Yer a creep,” Tsav said firmly. “Die in your sleep.”

“Silently,” you added.

A brief pause.

“…Fine,” Rhyno relented, though there was still a trace of amusement in his voice. “I can see when I’ve lost.”

“And the mountain was high as shit! We had to walk for days to get to the top, but not before lil miss genius here gets lost and stumbles onto a heap of bandits! So I sniped them, right, but then Mr. Comrade decides that since he got there first, he gets to steal all our bedding!”

Tsav kept going without pause, shoveling bread into his mouth between words and barely chewing before continuing. “Can you imagine? That prick! So we go to sleep on bare rock, freezing our asses off, and Rhyno has the audacity to-”

“I think they have heard enough, Tsav.”

Your voice came out sharper than you meant as you stepped into the mess hall, catching just enough of his story to know exactly where it was going. A few heads had already turned. That was more than enough.

Tsav looked up immediately, brightening at the sight of you like nothing was wrong. “Hi! Good morning!”

You shot him a look as you sat down with your food, slow and deliberate.

He blinked, then winced slightly. “Oh, right. I promised not to say shit about the bandits. My bad.”

Across the table, Xylo perked up mid-bite, clearly only just tuning in. “What bandits?”

You froze for half a second. “Nothing. Nothing. Just Tsav running his mouth.”

Tsav leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms with a lazy grin. “Sure is. Nothing happened at all.”

“Nothing,” you repeated firmly.

Rhyno chose that exact moment to sit down beside you.

“Is Tsav telling them about the night we all shared a lovers embrace in the cold?”

The table went silent.

Not quiet. Dead silent.

You did not even think. Your hand snapped up and clamped over Rhyno’s mouth before he could say another word. His skin was warm under your palm, which only made everything worse.

Heat rushed straight to your face.

“Lover’s…” Xylo stared at you, then the others, and then physically recoiled. “...Ew.”

“It was not that!” you blurted, far too fast, your voice jumping in pitch. “It was not! Stop making it sound dirty!”

Jayce blinked once, then looked directly at you with a level of disappointment that felt entirely undeserved. “Get better taste. This is beneath you.”

You stared at him, horrified. “It is not like that!”

Behind your hand, Rhyno made a muffled sound that was suspiciously close to laughter.

Tsav, entirely unhelpful, leaned forward with a grin. “I mean, it was pretty intimate. Real close. Shared warmth, stolen blankets, lingering contact-”

“Stop talking,” you snapped.

“I am just saying, the way you-”

“Tsav.”

“Okay, okay.”

You slowly pulled your hand away from Rhyno’s mouth.

He took a breath like he had been deeply wronged, then smiled, completely unbothered. “You did not let me finish.”

“You are not finishing,” you said immediately, before seeing how Jayce lurched in disgust at the chosen wording and trying to backtrack. “No! No- I mean!”

Rhyno twirled his spoon around in the air. “I was going to say it was memorable.”

“It was cold,” you shot back. “That is what it was.”

“Cold,” Tsav echoed, nodding very seriously. “Extremely cold. Required very specific positioning to survive. We did not wake up in the same spot we fell asleep in, that I can tell you.”

You turned your head slowly toward him. “Do you want to die.”

He winked. “Not particularly.”

Rhyno rested his chin lightly against his hand, watching you with clear amusement. “You don’t have to be so prickly. You were very cooperative, in the end.”

Your eye twitched. “I was freezing.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Nothing else.”

“Nothing else,” you repeated.

“Mm.”

Xylo pushed his bowl slightly away, still looking unsettled. “I am never eating breakfast with you people again.”

“That makes two of us,” Jayce muttered.

You dropped your head into your hands.

"You keep doing that," you said.

"Doing what."

"My thigh. You can't keep your hands off them."

His jaw shifted but his grip didn't loosen. If anything his fingers pressed harder, sinking into the give of you and the look on his face was the one he usually reserved for targets he'd already decided to pursue.

"And?"

"And I want to know why."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he moved closer, his knee nudging between yours, his hand sliding higher on your thigh until the heel of his palm rested against the thickest part of it. He squeezed again, and watched your breath catch with open satisfaction.

"Because you fit nicely my hands," he said, low and rough. "Because every time I grab you here your whole body reacts and you don't even notice."

His thumb traced the inseam of your pants. "And because you're mine. That's why."

He squeezed once more, let go, and went back to his pack like nothing had happened.

Your face burned for an hour afterward.

Dotta Luzulas

You noticed the pattern before he did. Every time you sat next to him his hand drifted to your thigh. It wasn't a bold move or a conscious decision either for him. His fingers just... migrated over like they had their own agenda. During meals, during watch, during the long boring stretches between missions where the unit sat around doing nothing. His hand would find your leg and his fingers would curl into the flesh and squeeze, light at first, then firmer, kneading into the thick of your thigh like he couldn't help himself.

He never seemed to realize he was doing it until you pointed it out.

"Dotta."

"Hm?" He looked up from his drink, eyes unfocused, cheeks pink from the alcohol. His hand was on your thigh under the table, fingers pressed deep, thumb rubbing an absent circle into the inner curve.

"You're doing it again."

He looked down. Stared at his own hand like it belonged to someone else. The pink on his cheeks flared to full crimson.

"I-- that's not-- I wasn't--" He yanked his hand back and shoved it between his own knees. "Sorry. I don't know why I keep--"

"I didn't say stop."

His mouth hung open. His eyes darted to your face, then to your thigh, then back. You took his hand from between his knees and placed it right back where it had been. His fingers twitched against the fabric and then curled in, tentative, testing.

"It's just..." He swallowed. His voice dropped to a whisper, so only you could hear him. "You're really pre--I mean you feel really-- there's just a lot of you right here and my hand likes it a bit and I just do it without thinking... I think."

"...A little bit?"

"Okay a lot bit." His fingers tightened on your thigh and a shaky breath fell out of him. His thumb found the inner seam of your pants and traced it and his blush spread to his ears. "Can I just... keep doing this? Is that an option for me--us?"

"It was always an option, I was just waiting on you to make the first move."

His hand squeezed again, more deliberate this time, and he bit his lower lip and stared at the table with the focused intensity of a man trying very hard not to combust in a room full of his colleagues.

Norgalle Senridge

Everything Norgalle did had to be a declaration, a public act, a king exercising his right to what belonged to him.

The first time his hand closed around your thigh you were standing beside him while he addressed the unit about a mission plan.

Nobody mentioned it, so you didn't either.

It became a pattern after that. His hand on your thigh whenever you sat beside him at meals, his fingers curling over it with ease. His grip would tighten whenever someone addressed you directly, as though giving a silent territorial reminder. During briefings he'd pull your chair closer with one hand and claim your leg with the other, his broad palm covering as much ground as it could.

But the way he did it in private was different. Slower. Greedier.

You were in his quarters, seated on the low couch while he reviewed his seal work. He set the blueprints aside and his hand found your thigh and squeezed. He watched his own hand with open fascination.

"You do that constantly you know," you said.

"I am aware."

"Want to tell me why?"

He looked at you the unguarded hunger in his eyes. His hand squeezed again, harder, and he pulled your leg toward him until your thigh rested across his lap.

"Because a king must know his territory," he said softly. His fingers kneaded into the thickest part of your thigh and his breathing deepened. "Every hill. Every curve. Every border." His other hand joined the first, both palms pressing into you, mapping you.

"And because when I hold you here, you make a lovely sound, right at the back of your throat."

"I do not."

He squeezed with both hands and you gasped.

His smile was victorious. "Do not question your king on what he knows to be right."

Venetim Leopool

The first time it happened his hand flew off your thigh so fast he knocked his drink over, stammered an apology and refused to make eye contact for twenty minutes. The second time, during a supply review, his fingers landed on your leg and stayed for a full three seconds before he realized and pulled back with a strangled cough.

By the fifth time you stopped counting and started paying attention to what triggered it. It was stress, mostly. The worse his day got, the more his hand gravitated toward your thigh. After a bad briefing he'd sit next to you and his long fingers would creep onto your leg and squeeze, like he was trying to stop himself from spiraling.

But he always caught himself, always pulled away and always pretended like it didn't happen.

Tonight you decided to end that cycle.

He was beside you on the bench outside the command tent, hair loose, eyes tired, recounting a supply disaster in a scattered way that meant he was actually frustrated with himself. His hand landed on your thigh mid-sentence and his fingers pressed in, squeezing in a rhythm that matched his breathing.

You put your hand over his and held it there.

He froze. Looked down at your hand on his. Then up at your face. The flush started at his collarbone and climbed.

"I was--I didn't mean to--"

"Yes you did."

His fingers twitched under yours, caught between the instinct to pull away and the desire to stay.

"You do this every time your stressed out," you told him. "And every time you act like you got caught stealing--Which is more Dotta's thing if we are being honest. So I'm telling you right now, you don't have to let go."

His eyes searched your face for the lie but couldn't find one and his fingers slowly relaxed under your hand and then curled back onto your thigh, tentative at first, then firmer. His thumb found the inner curve and pressed and his breath hitched.

"It helps," he admitted quietly. "I don't know why. When everything gets overwhelming and I can't find the ground, you become it."

"You should have just said so from the start." you teased with a grin, nudging his arm with yours.

His grip tightened and his head dropped onto your shoulder as his thumb kept moving against the inside of your thigh slow and steady.

"I suppose so... thank you for being patient with me." he murmured.

Tsav

He didn't have a subtle bone in his body, so when the thigh thing started there was zero ambiguity about it. You were sitting beside him while he cleaned his thunder staff and his free hand landed on your thigh, long fingers wrapping around it, and he squeezed like he was testing fruit at a market stall.

"Huh," he said out loud to no one, while staring directly at your leg.

"Huh what?"

"Nothing. Wait--Hold on." He squeezed again, slower, his fingers pressing into the give of the flesh and then releasing and then pressing again. His gap-toothed grin spread across his face. "Okay so this is going to sound weird but I need you to know that this is now my favorite thing."

"My...thigh?"

"Your thighs. Specifically this part right here." He squeezed the thickest section above your knee and his eyes lit up like he was lining up a shot. "Because there's this perfect amount of resistance, right, and when I press in it just--" He squeezed and released, as he watched your thigh bounce back to shape. "Yeah. That. I'm obsessed with that."

"You've known me for months and this is the thing that gets you obsessed with me?"

"Apparently." He didn't let go. His hand stayed on your thigh, squeezing at irregular intervals, each time followed by a small, satisfied exhale.

When you stood to leave, his hand chased your leg and caught it, pulling you back down. "Wait-wait-wait!--Where are you going?"

"To get dinner, it's been 4 hours man."

"Bring it back here--Dinner I mean, I'm hungry too," His fingers tightened. "But I'm not done with this yet either."

From that point on it was constant. Whether it was during meals or while the two of you were on watch duty, his fingers would find your leg and squeeze it like a reflex.

During a mission briefing he grabbed your thigh in front of the entire unit and Xylo stopped talking mid-sentence to tell him off.

Tsav stared back but didn't remove his hand. "Sorry sorry! I'm listening now!"

He was not listening. His thumb only continued move higher and higher on the inseam of your pants as his eyes kept darting to you to try and catch your reaction.

Least to say, you stopped wearing thin fabric around him after the third week, yet somehow it only made things worse.

Jayce Partiract

It started after a flight. You rid behind him on Neely for the first time, your thighs clamped tight around the dragon's sides with your arms locked around his waist, and when he helped you down afterward his hands had landed on your thighs to steady you, and froze. His eyes dropped to where his fingers gripped your legs, like he just discovered something about himself.

He let go and didn't mention it.

But after that, his hands found your thighs constantly. When you sat beside him his hand would drift to your leg and squeeze, while he talked about Neely's wing maintenance or complained about grounding orders.

When you sat across from him he'd hook his boot behind your calf and pull your leg closer until he could reach your thigh and rest his hand on it. Always gripping. Always kneading. Like he couldn't believe the give of it under his fingers.

You called him on it one night on the stable roof, his hand on your thigh for the fourth time that day, his thumb tracing circles into the inner section while he stared at the sky.

"Jayce."

"Mm."

"You and my thighs. What's happening there."

He looked at you for a moment before snapping his attention back to the sky, jaw clenching and unclenching until he could find his words.

"When we fly," he said, "Neely and I move together. I can feel her body shift under me, all that power and weight..." His thumb traced higher along your inseam. "Your thighs are basically the same thing. When I grab you here I can feel you and I... appreciate it."

"You're comparing me...to your dragon." you side-eyed him with a laugh.

"I'm comparing you to the thing I love most in the world.--Just take the compliment!" He squeezed again, hard enough to make you inhale, and his grin came back, sharp and unapologetic. "Besides. Neely doesn't make that face when I hold on tight."

"What face?"

He squeezed harder, watched your expression, and grinned wider.

"That one."

Rhyno

The first time it happened he looked genuinely puzzled by his own hand. You were seated beside him on the supply crates after a mission, close enough that your legs touched, and his broad hand had drifted to your thigh and squeezed. Not hard, more like... exploratory. His eyebrows lifted and he looked down at his own fingers with pleasant curiosity.

"Fascinating," he said.

"What is?"

"The way you feel under my hand." He squeezed again, slower, his pale fingers pressing into the give of your thigh through the fabric with his ever-present smile. "Huma--You are so remarkably dense. In a physical sense. All this muscle and tissue layered over bone, and when I press here--" Another squeeze, deeper. "--it gives, but only to a point. And then there's resistance."

"Are you... studying my anatomy right now?"

"Thoroughly." His thumb found the thickest part of your outer thigh and kneaded into it. His eyes found yours and the curiosity in them had darkened into something a tad...hungrier. "I find I don't want to let go."

He didn't.

His hand became a permanent fixture on your thigh whenever you were near him. Always gripping, always kneading, always seeking out that same territory with a focus that bordered on obsession.

The strange part was what it did to the rest of him.

Xylo noticed it first. Rhyno stopped disappearing after missions, stopped deviating from as many orders and reduced the destructive tendencies that landed him in solitary confinement every other week.

So they started pairing you with him. For every mission, every patrol and every assignment. Xylo never explained why. Didn't need to. The results spoke for themselves. Rhyno with you beside him was focused, contained and effective, whereas Rhyno without you was well, expensive.

One night after a clean mission that had zero incidents and collateral, you sat with him on the crates again and his hand found your thigh immediately.

"You know why they keep putting us together, don't you?" you asked.

"Because I behave when you're around." His fingers squeezed slowly, moving up and down your leg. "And I'll keep behaving, so long as you keep letting me hold onto you."