Chapter Text
Cassandra’s chest heaves with the weight of her breath burning her lungs. Sweat pours down her back and forehead, dirt stains under her fingernails and her cloth-wrapped palms. Her grip on her broadsword shakes with the sheer exhaustion. The dawn is rising behind her. The orange light shines across the worn-down dirt of the training grounds. Sleep is a stranger to her on nights like this.
She woke up not long after initially going to bed, and she’s been here since then, training non-stop. Ever since Cassie was 13, she’s been out here, sleepless, at least two nights a month. Soon, Junicofell preparations will finish, and she’ll need to be a proper Junic Child for the day, a good Kaalenian woman. Until then, she can be who she’s fought to make herself. A respected general. At 27, she’s already a war veteran and well-loved by her men, who jump to her every command. A beloved sister, who takes care of her brother and little sister. She is of her own creation.
And yet, her clothes bear the sigils of a house she never wanted to be part of, and yet, her last name is not her own. And yet. And yet. Cassandra breathes in deeply, and with all the anger in her shaking arms, raises her broadsword and strikes the training dummy. The straw cracks around her blade, and she sucks in another breath as it pulls away.
“Up early again?” A gentle, low, and mid-tone voice breaks the quiet of dawn. Cassie laughs roughly, gasping in another deep breath. “Didn’t sleep much at all.”
Talien’s warm brown eyes twinkle in the golden light of dawn. Cassandra drops her sword and sits down on the simple log bench, and her elder brother drops down beside her.
“You really need to try and sleep through the night more often, Cass,” He says, settling a warm cup in her hands, his head rolling back against the cold stone. “Miette got a messenger from the castle for you.”
“From the castle? God, not another fucking war path,” She groans, drinking the coffee. Talien laughs a little, “Not as far as I’ve heard. I wouldn’t be shocked if they sent the Junic units first, though. You’re to report there by noon.”
Cassie sighs heavily, wiping her sweat from her brow. “Well, can’t go in looking a mess, huh?” She takes her grey, dense curls down from their bun and grumbles some more.
“Guess so. Sorry, Andy,” Talien soothes, ruffling her hair gently. She chuckles to herself, stretching and drinking the last of her coffee in two big gulps.
“‘Tis the price I pay for my luxuries,” She exaggerates into a comically upper class Kaalenian accent, and her brother laughs heartily, exactly what she wanted. Though not blood related to her little sister and elder brother, Cassandra was deeply devoted to both Talien and Penelope, and despite her father’s best efforts, they were to her as well.
Cassie makes her way back into the manor from the back training yard, thinking about her place in this home the way she has so many times before. Junic children are, in theory, simple. Wealthier families adopt children from a variety of situations and provide them a better life in the name of Mother Junira. The children are, traditionally (in Kaalen at least,) raised to venerate her and bring pride to their families in trade. In practice, it grows to be far more complicated. The children become a preening ritual for the nobleman, who compete to see the “wildest” child they can “tame” into behaving.
Cassie, herself, is originally from the mountainous country of Maldorn, daughter of a fire-kin blacksmith and an angelfolkcraftswoman mother. In the human and elf dominated plains of Kaalen, her blended genetics and… adventurous upbringing, prior to age 11, are considered as “wild” as the animals roaming the forests. She considers herself lucky, to be the Junic child of House Argos. Her Junic Father, Lord Walrick Argos, is a well-respected nobleman. She was not forced into a showy betrothal as soon as she turned 14, instead allowed to become a royal knight. She and Talien are well-respected among their peers, viewed as equals in rank despite their differing social statuses.
The main doors to Argos Manor are made of dark wood, carved ornately, decorated with gold and guarded by Lord Argos’ personal guard. The back door, however, is a simple wooden door set into the mud-brick side of a hill, within which hides the manor’s kitchen and pantries. She steals an apple, earning herself a swat on the arm from the maid sorting the kitchen, and snakes through servant halls back up to the wing her room is in. A white-coated catfolk, lightly brown near her nose, paws, and ears, brown curls tied into a neat ponytail, waits nearby, tapping her foot gently. She looks up with knowing brown eyes, sighing to herself a little.
“I brought you a sleeping drought, you know?” Miette sighs. She’s been a maid serving the entire family since shortly before Cassie came to live here, about the same age as her, and spends much of her time fighting for her life to get Talien and Cass to take care of themselves properly.
“I knowww,” Cassandra groans, pushing into her chambers with a roll of her eyes. She tosses the empty apple core in a bowl on the small sitting table. Miette shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “You truly never learn to just take the drought, do you?”
“I don’t like them!” Cassie complains while pulling the cloth wraps off her hands.
Miette motions her to a small metal tub full of hot water, shoving a wash cloth in her hands. They work as one unit, Cassandra pulls eyepatch, then her tank top off, and Miette handles the compression tube top, gently freeing the stunted wings that had been carefully pushed to her back. Her wings flutter and stretch. Cassie groans. Miette laughs a little, gently rubbing the space between them. “Did you wear it all night?” She speaks softly, using her claws to scratch at the itchy skin under the feathers. Cassie nods pitifully. She sits upright, using a cloth to rinse the sweat from her front, lifting her breasts to wash under, following the lines of hard-won defined muscles. Miette handles her back, carefully washing the sweat and dirt of training from Cassie.
Miette barely has to utter a single instruction to her, Cassie already knows what to do. She moves to face the catfolk maid and leans over the back of the tub, allowing Miette to pour water into the curls. This is only a rinse-down, so they don’t bother with the long process of washing curls. That can wait until tonight. Miette squeezes the water from her hair and applying the straightening product while Cassie dries her front with a towel. Cassie stretches herself out, standing up and flopping onto her bed, groaning. “I have a few hours before I need to set out, don’t I..?” She grumbles, covering her head with her hands. Miette laughs, “How did you ever survive not having me on the war path, woman? Yes, I’ll wake you in a while. Oh, and take your damn boots off, Cassandra, I just cleaned the linens.”
Miette’s clawed paw scratches her head and she leaves the room with a hum. Cassie sits up, takes her boots off, and flops right back down, passing out laying on top of her sheets lazily.
Cassie doesn’t like her veil. Miette had woken her up on time, helped her put on her dress and put her hair in a halo braid. The outfit is, theoretically, simple. A red dress, cut to slim down her muscular figure, in a deep red and decorated with sparse gold decorations. A face veil made of translucent grey fabric sits, pinned neatly in her hair, to show her position as a Junic child and her respect for her betters. Cassie doesn’t hate her veil. It looks quite nice with her head scarf, when she finds a day off to finally, actually wear it without breaking dress code. She just doesn’t like it.
She wears a saddle bag, containing her eye patch, a small amount of pain-killing medication, and a water skin, alongside her summons to the castle. It’s not necessary to bring the summons, but should any pushy noblemen or advisors come to question her, she keeps it as proof of her requirement to be there.
The horse ride to the palace is annoying, at best. Her skirts don’t sit very comfortably over Ilya’s back, and the poor mare likes the summer heat just about as much as Cassie does. Thankfully, it’s not horribly long, not when compared with the days of marching with only rare rests Cassie’s loyal horse had endured on the war path. They ride up from the manor, through the capital, and to the main palace gates. She passes Ilya off to a stable boy, sliding him a few gold coins and nodding to him.
The castle is nothing less than opulent. She’s guided by a maid through stone halls, decorated in swathes of fine fabrics and paintings. It’s more extravagant than the Argos Manor, a place Cassie was terrified to touch things in when she first arrived for sake of how extremely expensive everything looked. The King’s private study is a large room, filled with books, a fine mahogany desk laden with papers and an old man covered in more gold and furs than any living being ought to be sitting behind it. Cassandra bows deeply to the king, who motions to the chair on the other side of the desk.
“General Argos,” The King greets, “You’re a touch late.”
“My apologies, your highness,” Cassie mutters, embarrassed, “I have no excuse, really. I got distracted.”
The King nods, a slight upturn of his lip providing Cassie at least a little relief. “Very well, then. You know the routine, please remove your veil so I may see your face.”
Cassie reaches into her bag and quickly produces the eye patch, turning her head to remove her veil and cover the socket once more. It’s traditional to wear nothing on the face beneath the veil, but protection from the elements for the sensitive, exposed muscles is important, so she carries the eye patch any time she isn’t wearing it. She turns back to the king and returns her face to it’s neutral expression.
The King takes a deep breath. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the trouble the rebels have been causing in the northern quarter have been causing,” He sighs. Cassie winces. It’s nothing less than chaos up there, attacks on caravans and thiefs sneaking into armories up in Lylecha and Renier. “I have,” She confirms, “Is this meeting to do with their presence?”
He nods solemnly. “I was hopeful for a simple resolution, however, after a raid on their last hideout, the soliders in Renier found plans to attack the capital. We’ve received trusted word from guards in Poronel that a foxhole has formed, and that the leader of the rebellion himself may be hiding there.”
Cassie nods along, humming. Poronel- gods, she had made an effort her last 14 years as a Junic Child not to think of that place. The King continues, “Given your… unique position, as both a trusted General and a person unknown to those unfamiliar with the inner-workings of the Junic ranks, the advisors and I have come to the conclusion that you are the most qualified to seek out this foxhole and implant yourself as a spy.”
Fuck. Cassie had really been hoping that wouldn’t be the task. Cassandra is a good liar, and equipped with Eloreq, the angelfolk language, she could easily slip secrets back to the capital. But… to put it bluntly, she just really doesn’t want to. Spy missions can take years, and there’s always the risk you can never come home. It’s been five years since the war ended, and Cassie still visits the graves of her men every week. Orders are orders, though, and they trump any lingering grief she holds. “When would I be dispatched for this mission?”
“After Junicofell festival. You will return every six months to keep up the appearance of a reclusive, retired Junic general, still shaken from the war. Junicofell and Samefell.”
She nods. “As you command, my lord.”
“Dismissed, and giving my greetings to your Junic father.”
Cassie stands and bows once more in thanks, leaving the study before finding a corner to replace the eye patch with a veil once more. She sets of for Argos Manor as soon as the stable boy brings her Ilya, to prep for both her mission and the upcoming festival. She would’ve liked more than one morning and one night’s warning…
Cassandra, upon getting home, immediately took to sprawling herself out over a daybed in the sun-drenched sitting room and passing out once more, waking only when Penelope prodded at her cheeks. “Cassie,” she whispered, “Cassie, I wanna go exploring.”
Cassie sits up, bleary-eyed, tiredly. “Pen, why ask permission? Usually you just go darting off and leave the rest of us to wander about.”
Penelope, six-and-a-half years old and bright-eyed, giggles with delight. “I don’t want mama or papa to scold me for not telling anyone,” She admits, “So I told the person who doesn’t say, no, penelope, you must be a proper young lady!” Her impression of Walrick makes Cassie snort in an effort not to lose her mind laughing.
“Well, I won’t tell you to be a proper young lady, but I will tell you to be careful and don’t go into the forest,” Cassie smiles gently, stretching herself out. Penelope grins, bounding off, full of energy. Her younger sister, so infamously full of energy they had to trim her skirts to her shins and tie her boots with double knots before she even turned 4. She sits up, breathing deeply and rising to her feet. Brushing off talking with her Junic father for any longer would not bode well.
Cassie’s steps echo down the large, luxurious hallways. Fourteen years in this home and she still felt out of place among the refined, expensive décor and drapery in every room. When she first came here, fresh off the loss of her home and family, rendered mute by the images that haunted her day and night, she’d taken to quarantining herself to her room, sleeping constantly. If not for Miette and Talien, she imagines she’d still be cooped up in there day and night, or turned over to the church for care. Walrick had been no help in the delicate process of bringing her back to reality and teaching her how to blend in. The most he provided was the sleeping droughts for her tea to help her through the nights and a stern you must learn not to embarrass me.
Cassandra lingers at the hall junction that leads over to Walrick’s study. A deep breath to steady herself. Calm. Shoulders straight. The hallway is empty, it always is unless there are visitors. She can hear talking inside. She knocks on the door firmly.
“Enter,” a gruff, accented voice permits. Cassie carefully opens and closes the door to make as little noise as possible. The room is lined with bookshelves, a large window open to allow cool evening air into the study. A fireplace, currently dormant, sits in one corner.
On a daybed near the window, stretched out lazily, is Pasha, Cassie’s Junic Mother, a short, albino woman who usually stuck to her painting and music. Rarely was she seen in here. Behind the desk sits Walrick Argos- a tall, battle-scarred man, mid-50s, full of wrinkles. He eyes Cassandra up and down, then gives the simple instruction of “Speak, Cassandra.”
“Father,” She cleared her throat, “I’ve been given-”
“A mission, yes,” Walrick nodded, “His Majesty sent word to me earlier in the day.”
Pasha tilts her head. “Could I inquire as to the purpose?”
“Unfortunately not,” Cassie admits, “It’s secret. Even to you.”
Walrick hums. “You shall need an excuse for those friends of yours, no?” He questions.
“My plan is to tell them I am training soldiers in Lylecha.”
“Very well. You leave day after tomorrow, at dawn, yes?”
“Indeed,” She nods, “I am to travel light. Only a small pull-cart and Ilya with me.”
Walrick nods, sighing. “Perform your mission properly, Cassandra. Anything less shall lead to punishment.”
“Yes, Father,” She nods slowly.
“Dismissed.”
She leaves as quietly as she came.
The next morning, Cassie awoke an hour after dawn, by the prodding of Miette. The pair had spent the remaining hours of yesterday packing a bag with simple clothes and enduring the arduous process of washing both her hair and wings for the ball tomorrow. Today, Miette helps her dress in her wing compression top and a fine, feminine dress, light blue and flowing, with silver clasps, simple, flat white shoes, and light weight silver jewelry to match. Her veil, rather than her usual white, was a deep grey, held on a silver chain and pinned into her hair with pins that had dangling charms. Her eyepatch, for today only, was to be substituted with a fake eye, iris colored a deep, dull red to match her healthy one. Her hair is styled with a straightening product from roots to ends, then piled into a high, decorated bun, and at last she is allowed to go down to the kitchens and bother Nina for a cup of coffee and a pastry.
Nina, the ever-so-sweet senior chef of the manor, provided the breakfast and a sympathetic fussing. She fixes the loose sleeves up to prevent any stickiness getting on Cassie’s dress, flips her veil up and sticks a clip from her own hair into Cassie’s to keep that clean too, and sits. “You’ll be glad to know that all last night and most of today, me ‘n the chefs from the other houses will be preparin’ a right feast for tonight.”
“Oh, thank the gods,” Cassie sighs, “I love Junicofell, but by The Mother’s name, is it a long day. Early in the day to well-past dusk!”
“Aye,” Nina laughs, “And the maids and I are up before dawn.”
Cassie whines in annoyance. She rubs her eyes, stretching. Her back pops in various places. Nina pats her back. “Poor old girl. I’ll be sendin’ Farsee with meals for you ‘n Miette so you don’t wither away.”
Once Cassandra finishes her food, she returns Nina’s hair clip. Nina refills her cup. “Miette stopped by and asked me to make you some travel rations and a back stock of your tea and sleeping medicine,” She says, worriedly petting Cassie’s hair, “Are they sendin’ ya away again?”
“Not a war path,” Cassie comforts, “but it is classified. I can’t tell you much more than it’ll take a long while. I’ll be back every six months.”
“Well,” Nina sighs, “I’ll make sure you’re well stocked.”
“Don’t go too crazy,” Cassandra laughs lightly, “It’s just Ilya and I going.”
Nina smiles warmly and pats Cassie’s back affectionately once more, “Of course you’re takin’ her. Well, I’ll go easy on her. Just a small pull-cart.”
Cassie nods, gently bows to Nina, and accepts a small forehead kiss and a thermos of more coffee.
Cassie waits for Miette on the front steps, idly braiding small parts of Ilya’s mane. Hearing the door, she turns to face it, expecting her companion, only to be greeted by Pasha again, lady of the house. “Mother,” She greets formally, bowing deeply. Pasha nods in return. She stands only 5’5 in comparison to Cassie’s towering 6 feet of height, dressed in a long, simple gown meant for sleep, white hair still slightly messy, rosy pale skin looking even lighter in the mid-morning sun. Pasha is reclusive, the aloof painter and pianist wife of Walrick Argos. She’s been this way since long before Cassie came to live here.
Pasha stares up at Cassie with a mix of tiredness and rarely seen fondness. “Cassandra,” She sighs, “By the Mother, it’s early and cold for summer.” She pulls from her shoulders the well-worn grey shawl keeping her warm, standing on her toes to wrap it around Cassie’s shoulders. A quiet tradition between the two. While Cassie certainly isn’t Pasha’s daughter, in quiet and cold mornings, on holidays and before events, she treats her almost like she is. When no one is watching, Pasha can find the similarities in their stories. She gently pins the shawl in place and pats the side of Cassie’s face, before turning and leaving her alone once more. Cassie stares at the door Pasha left through, a mix of emotions flowing through her mind. She brushes them off.
Miette finally arrives, muttering curses as she fixes the apron of her dress and the strap of her bag. “There you are, I was beginning to think you were gonna bail on me,” Cassandra jokes, and Miette rolls her eyes. “When, in either of our lives, have I done that?” Cassie lets out an amused chuckle, and takes Miette’s paw, helping her up onto Ilya’s back. She follows suit, and the two set off for the castle.
#
The ball room is busy. Servants rush back and forth, the Junic Children of the nobles talk among themselves, and the church elders are drinking from cups set at the stage where the small orchestra will be later. Cassie eyes the chairs with exhaustion. The orchestra is made up of the average noble children, meaning they don’t need to be here until noon or so.
The youngest among the children are rehearsing in the center of the floor, the dance of thankfulness to Mother Junira and their Junic parents that will be performed later tonight. Cassandra drinks from her thermos, passing it to Miette and sighing. She makes her way to the center and starts helping the more struggling kids, as many of the older Junic Children also have been doing. Just as her elders had done when she was young, she guides the pre-teens and young ones, even a few toddlers, through the clumsy motions of the swirling dance. She gives them her warmest smiles as they learn, affirmations that she knows a junic child can often miss out on. The church folk hurry this way and that, fix outfits and décor, command servants. A kindly nun smiles tiredly at Cassie, “Cassandra, dear, find a place to sit and I’ll send young ones to you and your helper so you can fix them up, yes?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, only nodding desperately while walking away. Cassie looks to Miette. Miette looks to Cassie. It’s nothing they haven’t clawed through together before.
Seats are found, little faces and outfits are fixed, comforting words and laughter shared. They’re anxious, shaky, and terrified of messing up in front of so many people who their Junic Families needed to impress. Cassie doesn’t bother telling them it’s not scary, instead saying that it’s scary even for her. When every little one is done just right, a break is finally had. Some people eat from pre-packed snacks, while older handmaids and church folk taking care to ensure the young ones are fed via food run from the kitchen. The elder children know well enough that the kitchen is in short supply of excess to give them on a day like this and to make sure they’ll get some kind of food in the day.
Miette sits next to her, flexing her paws. She watches the entrance, rising only when Farsee, her very anxious and sweet ‘underling’ birdfolk maid, approaches the doors nearly shaking like leaf. Miette guides her along to where Cassie sits on the floor, and helps her portion out the food that Nina had sent out with her. While the Junic children ate, the real children come, instruments in hand, and get up on the stage. Though Cassie is close with Talien and Penelope, not every pair is the same. Some sit together, some barely look at eachother, and as for Cassandra and Talien, the man sits joyously down next to Miette, Cassie, and Farsee, nabs a thermos from Farsee’s bag. “Oh- Lord Talien, There’s only-”
“There’s five,” Miette, laughing a little, “Nina is familiar with Talien’s thieving little shit behavior.”
Farsee swallows, whispering, “What if you get heard saying that?!”
Talien snorts. “I’d back her up, I am a thieving little shit.” Cassie elbows him, drinking from her own. “She always packs one for the delivery person, two for me, one for Miette, and one for Talien.”
“Two for you? That coffee is like battery acid!”
The other three laugh lightly. “We’re knights,” Talien gently clarifies, “I don’t think either of us have gone a day since turning 15 without drinking enough coffee to kill horse.”
Farsee winces and clicks her beak. “I could never, personally. I don’t quite want mine.”
Miette snatches it up, muttering a thanks to Junira as she sets it with her other thermos. Farsee passes around portions of bread, fruit, and dried meat for the three, and takes a moment to eat her own before stumbling her way out of the busy, loud environment. By the time lunch is over, Cassie has finished her first thermos and idly chattered with Talien about the goings on back at the house prior to her departure. By then, it’s time for rehearsals with the orchestra and last preparations before the event begins in full.
#
The parents arrive closer to the evening, dressed to the nines and flaunting their children prior to the dances. Pasha makes her rarely seen appearance, dressed in a fine velvet gown, fan elegantly hiding her face, perfected hair and makeup making for the perfect aloof wife. Her infamously low social capacity meant she would likely tap out and take Penelope home shortly after the dances, but she always stayed long enough to watch Talien and Cassie perform the usual ritual.
The ball began with the church folk saying prayers and giving a small sermon, then led into the dance. Cassie had been performing this since she first came to the Argos Manor, every step neatly ingrained into her mind. Twirling, neat lines of Junic children, performing in thanks to the Mother Junira and the families that heeded her call to protect the children in need. The children only had a few small fumbles, though everyone did their first few times around with these holiday performances. The orchestra performed beautifully.
Sure enough, as soon as the dances ended and a little bit of mingling was done, Pasha stopped by where Talien and Cassie had shoved themselves in a corner, carrying in her arms her darling youngest, mousy brown hair knotted around her ears from covering them. Penelope wasn’t a fan of balls. “I’m going to leave,” she says just loud enough to be heard over the volume of the party, “Penelope is far too tired for such an event and I have no desire to get drunk this time. No trouble, you two.”
“No trouble,” Talien repeats back, and side-eyes Cassandra.
“What did I do?” Cassie rhetorically back-talks, and Pasha shakes her head fondly, covering Penelope’s exposed ear.
“Just don’t fuck a maid in the damned gardens this time and we should be fine.”
“Not my fault she was a screamer,” Cassie muttered, flushing. Pasha baps her on the head lightly before making her exit.
The party drags on and on, although many people trickle out as the moon comes further overhead. Dinner is had, a delicious feast just as Nina had promised, and the real show beings: the noblemen parents begin showing off their well-behaved children to one another. The elder Junic Children hovered together in groups whenever they slipped away, and Talien sheepishly dragged Cassandra over to the group his fiance, Emily, stood in. She wore her dark hair in a high, delicate bun, lightly blue-green-tinted skin reflecting the light, shark-like teeth showing in a wide smile as soon as she saw Talien. Her dress, the same as Cassie’s, flows gently on her frame, the light blue fabric complimenting her perfectly, as Talien had not shut up about since seeing her earlier in the night.
Emily, a beautiful half-sea elf, has only ever been a Junic Child on paper. She never wore a veil for longer than a ceremony or church service, always floated effortlessly between the real children and the Junic children, and stood, headstrong, as her family’s pride and joy, their only daughter. Her parents were never particularly keen on her participating in these parties, viewing them as demeaning, always asking if she was “certain you want to be around those kinds of people that long?”
Emily, however, was a headstrong girl, viewing them as a celebration of their unique statuses, even if misused by the people around her. Cassie admired her outlook.
Talien had been engaged to marry Emily since they were 20, an arrangement that had been delayed time and again by various unfortunate things. The war, Emily becoming ill, Emily’s parents needing to check on the land they lorded over. The two had, however, been best friends since even before Cassie came to House Argos, Emily had even helped her train out her Maldorni accent in trade for a proper Kaalenian one. Cassie somewhat mourned the fact her mission would keep her from embarrassing him at his own wedding. “Andy, rather unfortunately,” Talien spoke in a low volume to his future wife, “is going to be dragged away on a mission.”
Emily’s face promptly grew into a pout. “What? Well, when? I don’t want you to miss the wedding, Cassie.”
“I leave at dawn tomorrow,” She admitted, to which Emily groaned, painfully disappointed.
“We really can’t push it off again, can we?” She looked to Talien with a frown so big, Cassie thought Talien might crumble on the spot and promise to fix it immediately. Instead, he steeled himself and shook his head. “Even with your father’s skill in convincing mine of things, I don’t think we could pull that off.”
“Hey,” Emily suddenly lit up, “Are you willing to start your journey tired, perhaps a little hungover?”
“Well, that’s how every good journey start,” Cassie laughs, and Emily nods like an excited puppy, bouncing a little.
“I’ll gather the crew, then, we can meet at the fire pit in the forest after we’ve changed out of these frills and faff,” Emily decides, “We’ll have an impromptu second engagement party.”
“It’s been so long since our first, and we hardly got to celebrate with them- might as well,” Talien agreed, kissing the top of her head sweetly. Cassie fake gagged.
“Well, I’ll meet you out there,” Emily giggles, and the trio part ways.
Talien goes off to sweet-talk their father into not punishing them for leaving before the party finishes and Emily darts off to request their horses from the stable boys and gather their party of fools. Cassie weaves between groups of people to snake out through an exit to the gardens. She pokes around the winding paths, until finally she finds Miette, crouched on the cobbled path, cigarette in hand. She stubs it out on the stones, flicking the butt end into the bushes and standing. “Finally sick of standing ominously in a corner?” She teases, and Cassie rolls her eyes.
“I was tired before we got here, asshole,” Cassandra grumbles. Miette laughs at her misery.
“I was up two hours before you, yet I’m not complaining,” she points out, and Cassie nods.
“Fair point.” She leads Miette back into the party and then through, out through the door into the halls and to the front entrance. There, Talien stands, patting his own horse’s side. “Ilya tried to kick Kaita again,” He complains.
“Well, tell Kaita to stop biting her ass every time she’s made to walk behind Ilya.”
“We all know she won’t stop doing that,” Miette interrupts, turning to Cassie and allowing her to help her onto Ilya’s back. Cassie carefully situates herself on the horse’s back, letting Talien lead the way out of the gates and back to the manor.
If Miette is anything it’s fast, reliable, and, without fail, an absolute bitch while she does the best work you’ve ever seen. The speed at which she helps Cassie change into a tank top and normal slacks is matched only by the litany of curses she hurls at her for moving around while she pulls decorations from her hair, pulls it from the high bun, and brushes out the knots her curls had tangled into in protest of being forced to sit flat. Cassie swaps out the prosthetic eye, with much relief, for her worn old leather eyepatch. They throw on their coats on, Cassie grabs her guitar from under her bed, they steal alcohol from the kitchen, and slip out the back door, meeting Talien.
The three don’t take the horses- Ilya needed her rest before tomorrow’s journey and Kaita wasn’t big enough for three riders. They travel on foot, talking in hushed voices about the gossip from their respective groups at the ball. Talien speaks of the men bitching about their wives, mocking him for remaining in the orchestra as a general, and his retorts of “hey, my fiance loves me, your wife is all the way across the room and won’t look at you.” Cassandra talks about the drama of the Junic world, where various of the older children are considering taking roles in the church to escape bothersome betrothals, the teens are telling their already tragic tales of heartbreak and dismay, and the newer additions to their world are beginning to imagine what their futureswill look like. Miette tells of the underbelly of both worlds, exhausted and gossiping maids and servants, discussing who is sleeping with who and what lord was caught with which of his employees.
As they arrive at the fire pit, just within the forest, a sunken into a dip in the dirt, stones built haphazardly around it, sitting there since long before their little group had taken it up as a meeting point, Cassie sighs with relief- She had been a little worried she wouldn’t be able to see them before leaving. Miette sits down, stretching her back, setting her bag down next to her. Cassie seats herself next to her, settling her guitar on the ground. Talien chooses a spot roughly across from the two, his face blooming into an almost childish smile as soon as he sets eyes on Emily, walking arm-in-arm with Kollette, their mutual best friend. Kollette stood only slightly shorter than Cassie, lilac blue skin darkened by moonlight, deep black hair parted by two horns that curved back and to a point. In the summer night breeze, he layered a lightweight cream long sleeve, deep grey tank top, and a red sash draped over his shoulder and wrapped around his waist. He smiled brightly and laughed with Emily as they sat themselves on either side of Talien, Talien immediately launching into questioning what had come up to make them laugh so, reactions so clear Cassie didn’t even need to read their lips to tell what was being said. To Cassie’s right sits a tall sun elf, fussing with the logs and tinder, arguing with the human to his right. “Oh fuck off,” Julien laughs, “That set up is not better than mine. Besides, we got the firestarter now,” He looks over to Cassie and grins. Cassie shakes her head fondly.
“My firekin roots are not for you to exploit for bonfires and snacks,” She lightheartedly scolds. Regardless, she leans forward, letting the white flame crackle into existence in her palm, then rest on the tinder until it catches into an orange flame, lighting their side of the bonfire. As the wood catches, Cassie admires Julien for a moment- matching Cassandra in height, warm-toned dark skin complimented by the fire light, dark, tight coils pushed back into a fluff of a ponytail, beads hanging off his front braided pieces highlighting his elven elegance.
“Mine still would have worked better,” The human, Kayan, grumbles as the wood catches from the tinder, spreading the flames to Talien’s side of the pit. Kayan laughs as Julien elbows them- no harm, no foul. The two had always been at each other’s throats, since long before the two trained with Cassie and Talien’s regiments, having been neighbors since they were children. They’d been on the healing lines, saving their lives endlessly whenever the generals had gone and nearly gotten themselves killed. Kayan, with their blonde hair and vibrant green eyes, ivory white skin scattered with freckles and troublesome personality, was always such a delight watch argue and clash with their best friend.
Miette pulls a bottle of wine from her bag and a series of wooden cups, filling them and passing them around, greeted with excited thanks and laughter. Kollette hands out pastries from his family’s bakery in the downtown area. Kayan and Julien distribute fruit and snacks. The circle alit with joy and conversations that Cassie ached with preemptive missing and grief. They shared their stories from their sides of the holiday, reminisced on past iterations, both before and after and even during the war. She soaked in every second. God, she thought, I’ll barely be able to see them whenever I come home.
Cassandra cleared her throat and stood. “Mournful announcement,” She sighed, “This is, in fact, a going-away party. And I need you all to keep your mouths shut about that or I’ll have to kill you. I can’t tell you much besides I’m off to train guards in another town.”
Laughter. She smiled. “I’ll be back every six months. Don’t yap. Keep yourselves out of trouble. That means you, Kayan.”
The human flushes and grumbles. Julien laughs at them. Kayan punches him.
Kollette raises his up, “To our brave soldier boy!” He cheers, “Little Cassie, bold and courageous!”
Cassie laughs, filled with love for her friends, as they raise their cups and cheer, “to our soldier boy!”
“I’m not even the youngest here!” She complains, plopping back down beside Miette, who ruffles her curls and leans on her shoulder. “Spiritually speaking, you’re the youngest.”
“Spiritually speaking, I’ll fuck your mum,” Cassie grumbled as she picked up her guitar and tuned the strings. Miette rolled her eyes.
“You’ve already fucked me, Cassandra, don’t be weird.”
The drinking and merriment carry on into the early hours, though Cassie stops accepting refills halfway through, and they spend hours just enjoying eachother’s presence. This, this is what Cassandra will miss. She can live without Nina’s meals, without the familiar sounds of the manor, without the protections of her Junic father, but this? Miette’s head on her shoulder as she plays her guitar, joy twinkling in Talien’s eyes as Kollette and Emily take turns harassing him, Julien and Kayan arguing beside her, this is what she would miss. Dozing off in between conversations and laughter, waking back up to new arguments and debates. As the first signs of dawn begin to touch the east horizon, Cassie gathers Miette onto her back and laughs as Julien, with his elven tolerance to alcohol, struggles with Kayan, and Talien leads Kollette and Emily around by holding their hands. Julien and Kayan, with further to travel back to town, wish Cassie well with hugs and head bumps, leaving the siblings to cart their drunken friends back to the manor.
Honestly, thank the gods for Nina Apolethen. The absolute angel she was, she made all five of them sit down at the kitchen staff’s table and eat food and drink water, providing Cassie with a potion of energy for her travels. She told Miette and Cassie to hurry on upstairs and get ready, saying she’d take care of Ilya and the cart, and that the few hours they had before they had to leave were best spent taking their time on the last preparations and “resting their foolish feet.”
Cassie and Miette have known each other a long time. Miette, barely a year older than Cassie, had only just come to Argos manor when Cassandra arrived, shaking in fear and scared to touch a single thing. Miette had initially only been assigned to Cassie to get herself trained and Cassandra to open up, but they’d grown so close they became inseparable. It was only natural, through that, something more had grown. It’d been a long time since they decided they were better off as best friends, but always, deep in their chests, they had loved each other in a way beyond words.
It was why, as Miette pulled the cardigan from Cassie’s shoulders, she kissed them, and why, as she pulled the clean travel clothes over her body, her hands lingered on scars. It was why she, without asking, undid Cassandra’s hair and restyled it into two braids down her back, kissed the top of her head, and spent just longer than needed staring at her. “Come back alive,” she whispered gently.
“Or you’ll bring me back and kill me yourself,” Cassie laughed, kissing the crown of Miette’s head. Miette rested it on Cassie’s chest. Cassie held her close. “I mean it,” She insisted, sniffling and wiping her nose, “Come back to me.”
“I always do,” Cassandra whispered back. She gathered her bags. On with the show.