Setting

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Alexander was often allowed the evenings to himself, provided his duties had been carried out beforehand. In this free time he'd either visit the barracks to check on his subordinates, journey down to the cellars to spend an hour or two with his wife, or he'd leave the castle to take care of... other business.
At considerable risk to his own safety, not to mention the lives of those still in Victoria's grasp, Alexander opted for the latter that night. He'd promised his granddaughter an assortment of weapons and armor; everything ranging from swords, whips, and staffs to shields, helms, and breastplates. As he'd been informed, the Rebellion were lacking in protection and their abilities could only get them so far.
Over the course of several weeks he'd been taking items in small numbers and hiding them elsewhere. If anyone dared to ask questions, he'd shrug it off and claim that they'd simply been lost on patrols or damaged beyond repair in training. No one thought to question him too much; Alex wasn't the sort of man with whom you could speak comfortably, so most didn't try.
One bandaged hand slipped gingerly into his pocket to retrieve a small silver watch, which he observed for a moment before quickly returning it to its place. If he left within the hour, he'd make it to the meeting place by nightfall. First, however, he needed a hot bath and a moment's rest.
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Alexander, accompanied by a select few of his most trusted and loyal soldiers, trudged through the mud with a solemn expression upon his face. His cloak, once a pristine white colour, dragged along the dirt as he went and caught on branches more times than he could count. He'd been foolish to wear it on a journey such as this, knowing it would get filthy, but the world had grown cold this past year. The nights were unbearable, more so than even he could tolerate.
Before long they came to a break in the trees; the clearing in which he was expecting to meet Sunday. True to her word she'd arrived precisely on time and had no doubt been waiting some time for Alex to finally show his face.
Hands clasped behind his back, Alexander bowed forward and dipped his head as a show of respect for the young lady, before straightening up. "I hope you can forgive my dreadful punctuality," he told her. "I underestimated how long it would take to get these supplies out of the castle without being seen." While he spoke, he gestured behind himself to the disgruntled soldiers lowering their crates to the floor. "As promised, I've brought everything you might need. Armor, weapons, clothing, medical supplies, food."
Alexander hesitated for a moment, seemingly conflicted, then waved a hand for one of his men to step forward. The younger boy clutched what appeared to be a box wrapped in cloth and tied with a piece of string, and shakily handed it over to Alex when he called. "Perhaps I'm over-stepping my boundaries here, but... I happened upon some books that I thought Alice might enjoy reading," he explained as he then extended the gift to her. "They're mostly old fairy tales."
He'd not yet met Sunday's daughter, little Alice, but he already knew in his heart that he would adore her. He hoped he'd be able to meet her one day, when he wasn't in a position to have information tortured out of him. Until then he would stay away from the majority of his family, and the Rebellion's camp.
As she thought this over, a rustle startled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Grandfather clad in his Remei armor appear through the trees and bowed. She swallowed. She wasn't sure she was ever going to get use to that. She was acting Queen of the Fae since Father seemingly couldn't be bothered for his grief but she wished he wasn't so formal. How she longed for some familial love. She knew better though, he wasn't alone and him being this familiar with her was hard enough since she was technically the enemy. "I hope you can forgive my dreadful punctuality," he told her. "I underestimated how long it would take to get these supplies out of the castle without being seen." He said and his men began to lower crate after crate of supplies the rebels needed. "No need to worry, Grandfather, I understand the discretion." she said and held out a hand. A shadow swirled beneath the crates and they dropped one by one into the shadows, as if a hole formed beneath them.
Once the others finished a younger lad approached Grandfather and handed him something wrapped in cloth. Sunday cocked her head at Grandfather's nervous expression. "Perhaps I'm over-stepping my boundaries here, but... I happened upon some books that I thought Alice might enjoy reading," He held the apparent books to her and Sunday smiled. "They're mostly old fairy tales." He told her and Sunday found herself giggling. "This is brillant, Grandfather, She will love them, Thank you," She said overjoyed that he thought of her young daughter to whom she'd be practically raising alone. She had Kellin but that was getting more and more complicated, Her Father was losing himself by the day. She did have Eida but she was just as lost as she is. She wished she had someone older, wiser. She wished she had Grandmother. Sunday's smile faded. "Have you seen her?" she asked softly, dropping her gaze. " Grandmother, I mean, is she any better? " she asked, remember how broken shed been the last time she saw her, talking to herself, weakened severely by the iron. It was awful knowing how powerful she had been. How she still could be now if Sunday had chosen to save her instead of Father that night. She was still lucid then, told her to take Father and go, but they needed her. Now more then ever.

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"This is brilliant, Grandfather. She will love them, thank you."
Straightening his expression, Alexander dipped his head in response and offered a simple, "You're welcome."
He noted her sudden shift in mood and it only took him a second to figure out where this conversation was headed. Sunday was very fond of her grandmother and it was no secret she intended to free the former Queen from her prison. It was only by Alexander's begging that she ended up in that place, rather than being outright executed, but he wouldn't be entirely surprised if Sunday blamed herself for her mother's actions.
"Have you seen her?" the young girl asked solemnly. "Grandmother, I mean, is she any better?"
Alexander paused for the longest moment before clearing his throat. "I try to visit your Grandmother each evening, if I can," he told her, his voice dropping considerably in volume. "She's... not doing too well, I must admit. Barely lucid at the best of times, and only growing weaker by the day." His gazed shifted for a single moment, perhaps out of shame or just discomfort, but he regained his composure quickly enough.
"Thankfully, in her state of mind, she seems to be unaware of her situation. She believes that she's living in the Hotel once more, with her children," he further explained. "I've not had the heart to shatter that illusion."
"She's mad," muttered one of the soldiers, standing a little in front of his comrades. "You ought to give her some mercy, let her die in peace rather than forcing her to live in pai-" The man's voice cut short as Alexander's head whipped around, wearing the sort of look in his eyes he typically reserved for the Tyrant Queen. "Forgive my outspokenness," he offered feebly, then stepped back.
Alexander inhaled slowly and returned his attention to Sunday. It was only for the man's loyalty that he wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood, but there were more important matters at hand than disciplining a loose-lipped subordinate. He hadn't travelled so far only to offer supplies; he also had information that may have been valuable to the Rebellion.
Reaching into his cloak, Alexander retrieved a small scroll of paper and passed it to Sunday. "I've happened upon a small village nearby. It's under the Queen's control, naturally, but it's deemed relatively unimportant since the village is small and poor," he said. "It's guarded by one large creature and a handful of Demon soldiers, none belonging to the Remei." Another scroll of paper was revealed and once again passed to Sunday, this time detailing the resources, civilians, and amount of soldiers she could expect to find there. "I'm afraid that's all the help I can give you for now."
Behind him he could hear his men getting restless and Alexander knew he had to wrap this meeting up as quickly as possible. Before then, however, he had one more think to inquire about. "How... is Simon coping?" he asked, his expression softer than it had been just moments before.

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His time with Ambers only ever felt good in the moment, he'd quickly come to realise. The second they were done, he would always feel a tightness in his chest and a weight on his shoulders that proved unbearable at times. His mother's imprisonment, the fate of his people, and the countless hardships he forced upon his own daughter because he was too weak to shoulder them alone. All of it was taking its toll on him. The man in his bed wouldn't distract him forever, much that Simon wished he could.
When sex wasn't enough, there was only one other thing that worked to drive away the depression. One thing that made him truly numb.
After what felt like an eternity of staring into space, Simon finally heaved himself up and walked to the furthest side of the tent where his garments lay in a messy pile. He bent to pick up his bottoms before he started pulling them on, another impatient sigh filling the silence.
"Go fetch some wine from storage, would you?" he asked, his tone somehow both sharp and exhausted at the same time, and for the first time since in a while he finally turned to look at Ambers. "Not that weak mortal shit though... It won't do anything for me."
The look in Simon's eyes suggested he wasn't in the mood to argue about the subject, but he suspected the young soldier would try it anyway.

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This morning Eida had been invited to join a small group of the Rebellion's women and children, who would often venture to nearby streams or lakes to wash their garments and bathe. She wasn't a particularly sociable person but it was a far better alternative to wandering out of the camp alone, especially with her child.
As they chattered among themselves, Eida stayed a ways back from the group, smiling at the babe who gurgled and grasped at the collar of her jacket.
Eida allowed Hotaru to sit with a small group of Fey while she went to bathe quickly, figuring she should get herself out of the way first so she could focus entirely on her daughter.
Even beyond the noise of the children and idle chatter, a rustle in the bushes nearby was enough to catch Eida's attention and her eyes scanned for the source, finally settling on a tall figure in the distance. It only took her a second to recognise that face, the long hair and familiar armour of the Dragon Realm. His attention wasn't focused on her, strangely, but instead on the young Dragon she'd bore with him.
Eida strode forward until she was out of the water, completely unabashed despite her current state, and didn't halt again until she was standing between the two of them; fists clenched and narrowed eyes trained on the man. Everyone around them had fallen silent.
"Take one more step towards this girl, see what happens to you," she challenged him coldly, ignoring the younger woman who walked forward to drape a small sheet around her shoulders. Her sword, seemingly of its own volition, lifted from the ground to meet her hand and she stood more than ready to use it.
Eida didn't trust Mycah anymore, not after learning of the sigil he wore... The sigil he asked her grandfather to etch into his skin; the one that allowed him to flee when she needed him most. It kept her away, kept his daughter away by association, and he'd thus far made no attempts to see either of them -- whether he knew she was his or not. More than that, however, she was territorial by nature and the thought of sharing her daughter with this man was enough to make her blood boil.
"You made your decision, Mycah, the second you accepted that sigil and what it entails," Eida continued. "So even if I have to separate your head from your shoulders, you will stay away from my child until I say otherwise." She further lifted her sword and pointed it threateningly in his direction, so there was no mistaking how far she would go to defend her daughter and her territory. "Leave now."
He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to him. He rose his hand to his chest. Shame and guilt overwhelming him. He hadn't known, even with the scars from her...attack since in his heart. He wouldn't have knowingly abandoned her and their-her child- know matter how he felt about her. She'd been broken, he'd failed her in the Demon Realm that day and he'd failed her again. This time, she seemed to be better than she had been. Back to herself Mycah took a single step back and bowed. "I am glad you back to your true self, Day Girl." He said and turned from her. "I am sorry I was not present to see you blossom or her." He said and walked back the way he came but was stopped short but a sudden pull. Then Young Drsgon, his apparent daughter. Young Dragons are naturally drawn to Older Dragons, they need them in order to change for the first time. They need genetic permission. Something he had not had until he had grown much in his human form and his first change was painful and had no one but the slave masters to watch and no comfort came from them. "She...won't let me leave, She wants to change but needs the guidance of an Elder Dragon, if you will allow it, I need only touch her hand and say the words and I will be off." He said, not facing any of them.

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"I am glad you're back to your true self, Day Girl," Mycah spoke up then, eliciting a sharp click of the tongue from Eida. For the first time since he'd given her that nickname, she hated it. "I am sorry I was not present to see you blossom, or her." That seemed to be the end of the situation for the moment; she didn't bother to call his name when he turned to walk away, as she might have two years ago, nor express anything other than relief that he was finally leaving.
Eida allowed herself a quick glance in Hotaru's direction, foolish as it might've been to succumb to any kind of distraction at that time, and when she looked back in Mycah's direction she was agitated to see that he'd halted in place. She took a breath, her sword still raised.
"She... won't let me leave. She wants to change but needs the guidance of an Elder Dragon, if you will allow it, I need only touch her hand and say the words and I will be off."
Everything about these words confused Eida to her very core, a large part of her believing he only wanted to get close to her daughter. She was ignorant to the ways of Dragons; Mycah hadn't been given much time to teach her much beyond the basics. As such, she was doubtful of his intentions.
"Well she's just going to have to wait," she snapped back after a moment or two. "You've been here for all of a minute and you think I'm going to let you anywhere near her? If so, you're delusional."
Eida lowered her sword some and huffed impatiently, but everything about her demeanour suggested that she'd opted to concede just a little. "Why don't you start with explaining exactly what you mean by change, huh?" she asked, mostly out of curiosity but also a little concern.

His light-brown gaze looked over at Simon when the curse left his lips, and his gaze fell back onto the sheets. He was aware of the weight on Simon's shoulders- or, at least, could see the effects of the man's mind on his body and actions. In this sense, it was the way Simon's voice sounded that gave Ambers the impression that some sort of thoughts started weighing him down again.
The soldier looked over to Simon again, studying those eyes, and realized that he wasn't in the position to argue. It hurt a little to see Simon turn to wine to cope, but it was situations like this that he became conflicted over who had authority. As soon as the fun ended, Simon became the royal prince again, and Ambers, a soldier.
One day, Ambers felt like he would be cast aside once Simon was tired of sex, but those kinds of thoughts were the ones Ambers tried not to think about too much.
"Alright." Ambers said, and he sat up to start making his way off the bed, rolling his shoulders. He pulled his pants on and made sure not to make Simon too impatient with the wine.
He retrieved the wine that best suited Simon's description and made his way back to the tent, ducking a little through the entrance.
"I got it, I hope it's to your taste." Ambers said, and he moved to get two glasses, pouring an appropriate amount for Simon, and only a little for himself just for taste. He had to cover a patrol shift later, so he wasn't going to have more than what he poured for himself.
He held out Simon's cup for him to take.
"Here."

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Growing too attached to the boy would be his death sentence, as it had been for Sashi and Tanya.
The tent's entrance was pulled back some and he turned to see Ambers clutching a bottle of wine. Simon might've forced a smile, were it not for the overwhelming guilt he felt in that moment.
He watched wordlessly as the soldier poured wine into glasses, then held one of them out for him to take. He looked at it for a few moments, though it felt like an eternity, while the countless voices in his head bickered over whether he should take it. Slowly he lifted a hand but instead of reaching for the glass, his hand went to Ambers' wrist, guiding him to set the glass down on the table once more.
Stupid as it was to do so, Simon stepped forward until he was chest-to-chest with Ambers, placing a single kiss upon his shoulder and another in the crook of his neck. He seemed to settle into the taller man, hoping for an embrace that would once again distract him, but this time it was different. There was nothing sexual about the interaction.
"I'm sorry," he spoke through a sigh. He wanted to say more, to explain what the hell was going on in his head, but nothing seemed to come out. He could only apologise for his failures and weaknesses, as he had a hundred times before.

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At the very least she understood the importance of this interaction, and knew she couldn't stop it even if she wanted to, but that didn't stop her from taking as much control of it as she possibly could. His words were slowly working to ease some of her concerns, but it would take a lot more than that to chip away at the wall she'd built around herself and her daughter.
"This is no trick, Eida, that is not my way. I am unable to leave her without giving her permission to take full dragon form," he finished, so softly she could've sworn her heart fluttered a little, but she shut that thought down as soon as it appeared. "You have my word, I will leave the moment it is done."
She remained silent for a long time, carefully regarding the father of her child, then exhaled slowly. "Turn around," she ordered, knowing he would comply, and waited for him to do so before she bent to retrieve her clothes. Only when she was adequately dressed did she allow him to turn back around, by which point she was already knelt beside Hotaru, lifting her up with the gentle hand of a mother.
"You may approach her," she told him with a nod, her voice holding none of the strength it had just moments before. It was clear to see that, despite his reassurances, Eida was still quite unsure of herself and the situation. She cradled Hotaru lovingly, allowing just enough room for Mycah to get close but not enough that he'd think to try to pick her up himself, and she didn't take her eyes off him for a second.

Did he pour it wrong? Surely there must have been some royal etiquette that Ambers would have probably not known about. Or, maybe he took too long and the desire for wine had already passed. Or perhaps he had to let the wine sit or something before pouring it. Ambers didn't know anything about wine, besides that it had originated from grapes and aged in old barrels.
After it seemed the moment was too long and Simon seemed to not be taking the glass, Ambers' lips parted to apologize- only to find Simon's hand moving up. However, instead of the glass that Ambers had thought Simon was reaching for, he watched the hand instead move to hold his wrist to guide the wine down to the table. He looked up to Simon then, trying to read his expression, his thoughts. For Ambers, it was routine to stay one step ahead of the game; but with Simon, it was impossible. He couldn't read him very well during moments like this.
"Simon..." Ambers started to say, and he would have continued if it wasn't for Simon stepping in to place that first kiss on his shoulder. His word simply faded out to breath, and whatever Ambers was going to say went completely out the back doors of his mind.
The apology was unexpected, and it was then that Ambers had realized what was happening and just what type of affection this was... and a feeling of relief lifted from Amber's chest. It seemed like Simon wasn't going to drink the wine after all. As much as he was relieved for it, Ambers still was concerned on the nature of the apology and the context of it.
He wasn't entirely sure if Simon was apologizing for asking for wine, refusing the wine, or if the apology had anything to do with him at all. But, that much didn't matter to him. If he could lend an ear to Simon and help alleviate whatever negative feelings the prince was plagued with, Ambers would do it without hesitation. He owed his life to the prince, but he also found that after time had passed he really started to care for the man's wellbeing as though it were his own.
"It's alright." Ambers said, and he let a small sigh leave his lips, raising his arms to wrap them comfortably around Simon. His hand moved up to comb through the side of his long brunette hair, and Ambers hoped that his touch was able to offer some amount of comfort for the prince.
"You're trying your best, and I'm proud of you for it." He said.
Small things first. Simon made the choice to refuse the wine, which was a choice of sobriety on his part. A good step that required a lot of strength to do.

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"You're trying your best, and I'm proud of you for it." These words caught him off guard.
Simon could've laughed. Did Ambers really think this was his best? He'd never been so pathetic in his life. Even when his parents left him behind to raise his sister alone at the age of twelve, when his wife was murdered and he raised his ungrateful son alone without complaint, or even when his girlfriend was also murdered and he was too busy fighting a war to mourn the loss. Through all of that he'd remained strong.
In the end, what broke Simon was the death of his sister, Symone. Were it not for his daughter pulling him away from the scene when she had the chance, Simon would've undoubtedly gotten himself killed trying to rescue her. Instead he watched as she was burned alive, alongside his best friend and uncle.
He could do nothing to save them, and their screams still haunted him.
Simon shook his head and pulled back just a little; not in an attempt to break the embrace, but enough that he could hold Ambers' gaze. "Don't be," he murmured, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hand moved over the soldier's bare chest and settled on the nape of his neck, tracing circles with a single finger. This was not the time to dump all of his thoughts and feelings on Ambers, who no doubt had his own issues to deal with, so he opted instead to change the topic of conversation.
"We should get out of this tent," he suggested, being careful with his tone so that it wouldn't sound like he was barking an order. He wasn't so ignorant that he didn't acknowledge the authority he held over others, and the way they were often more concerned with his title than he was. "I think some fresh air is in order, aye?"

Ambers couldn't help but look at Simon's eyes with a bit of gentle protest. Of course he was proud of Simon, and he respected him very much. There was no way he couldn't be proud.
The way Simon looked at him with that hint of sadness had Ambers going completely silent, and he thought at that moment just the kinds of things the prince must have experienced. He only heard of stories from other soldiers, tales of the worlds before. Certainly, there were lots of things that Simon wasn't ready to talk about, and he respected that in all attributes. Ambers wouldn't push that boundary.
With that thought in mind, his eyes closed to the feeling of Simon's touch across his skin. It was quite fascinating how someone else could elicit such a calming response in his body. Ambers seemed to learn something about himself every time the two interacted. Not that Ambers had never been in a relationship before, but it had been quite a while since experiencing this type of intimacy. He had made an effort to avoid it as much as possible prior to seeing Simon, for his own reasons.
"We should get out of this tent. I think some fresh air is in order, aye?"
Ambers offered a smile to Simon's words, and he nodded.
"Yeah, fresh air sounds like a good plan. I know of a couple spots we can walk to. There's a good stream nearby... but I'm not sure how far you'd like to stray from camp." He murmured, and he leaned forward a little to deliver a gentle kiss to Simon's temple. "I'll put the wine back. Just think about where you'd like to go, and we'll make sure to go there."

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On the other hand, the words that followed only worked to sour his mood.
Simon's eyes found the bottle in a second, a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach, like he wasn't quite ready to let it go just yet. This feeling barely had time to register on his face, however, as he released a soft laugh and a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No need, Ambers," he told the younger man, keeping his voice as casual as he could manage under the circumstances. "I'll take that back later, don't worry."
The prince's hands slipped down Ambers' arms until he reached his hands, then began to pull him forward towards the tent's exit. "Let's just go, 'ey? That stream sounds nice... peaceful," he added, pulling back the door flap for both of them to make their way through it.
Without needing to be shown the way, Simon - still keeping at least one of Ambers' hands in his own - made his way through the camp and towards the edge of the forest, where a small path had recently been formed. It became a habit over the past year for Simon to spend many a night mapping out the areas that surrounded the Rebellion's camp, no matter where they found themselves in this ruined world. Within the first two nights, Simon had managed to familiarise himself with every nook and cranny. Streams, lakes, clearings, caves, and whatever else he could find. Not much had slipped by his notice.
The moment they left camp, Simon had visibly relaxed, and he released his hold on the young soldier's hand. A slow exhale filled the silence, before his brown eyes settled on Ambers.
"How are you holding up?" he asked, as if he was surprised that he hadn't thought to do so earlier.

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She'd give her right arm for someone to step forward and decipher what was going on in her mind right then. Not that it mattered anymore, of course. Mycah was in her daughter's life now, whether she liked it or not.
In the midst of her thoughts, Eida was caught off guard when suddenly the young child was no longer in her arms, but instead had her own wrapped around Mycah's neck. Her eyes wide, part of her was tempted to snatch her daughter back, but something halted her. He daren't move in that moment; she could see the hesitation in his face, and in the way he merely held his arms out.
She stayed motionless for a good while, then set her jaw. Shit...
"Hold your daughter, Mycah," she told him, her voice so quiet it could be classed as a whisper, but there was no way he wouldn't have heard it. It took a lot for her to use those words, and they were not careless. Acknowledging Mycah as the child's father was a sign of budding trust, or at least some leniency with regards to her boundaries. "Her name..." she started, pausing momentarily. "Her name is Hotaru."
Eida pulled her gaze from the two, unable to watch as Hotaru cradled her father so lovingly, and took a moment to scan their surroundings. The women and children that had accompanied her on this journey were long gone; only the three of them remained. She didn't quite know if she was grateful for their absence.
With a flick of Eida's wrist, a wooden stool emerged seemingly from nothing and she lowered herself to meet it. She spared a glance to the sword that still lay by her feet, a sigh escaping her lips.
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