#my friend the Canary | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

britcision · 3 months

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Happy Leap Year friends! Another little present from me to you, this time we have a totally sweet little story about Pattadol and Marcille bonding over who is actually bravest 🥰

Just. Don’t look at Kabru and Lycion behind the curtain.

(I cannot be the only person who finds it suspicious that Mithrun was notorious for specifically his warden colleagues dying.)

Warnings: implied past unspecified abuse, definitely actual past murder, abuse of power over prisoners

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After Dinner Mints - Death Rates

Honestly, Marcille had to admit that she quite liked Pattadol. Even when they’d both been operating under the assumption that Marcille would be going back west with them as a prisoner, the elf hadn’t treated her badly.

She was kind, a little nervous, and honestly seemed even more out of her depth than Marcille felt. So it had been a bit of a relief that the other Canaries had apparently decided that Pattadol would be her arresting officer.

She probably wouldn’t have been able to relax if the captain had been the one to keep an eye on her; either Captain Mithrun or Captain Flamela, who just seemed lost now that she had nothing to be angry about.

They’d got to talking even that first day, and Pattadol had admitted that the Island’s dungeon had been her first ever mission with the Canaries. First, and probably last, which none of them really knew what to do about.

And then Laios had gone to the Canaries and just told them that he’d be keeping Marcille unless they actually wanted to explain ancient magic to him, which absolutely everyone knew wasn’t going to happen.

So Marcille was sort of, kind of free now.

(Privately, she wasn’t going to count on anything until Laios had died; elves could afford to wait out one human. Maybe even a few generations, if Laios had children or enshrined her place in law.

That wouldn’t be too bad though; she wasn’t sure she’d want to stay in Melini without her friends. But they had decades ahead of them, so she wasn’t going to worry about it yet.)

All of the free Canaries were avoiding her now though, all except Pattadol, who wasn’t exactly comfortable talking to them either. Almost all of them were a century older and decades more experienced than she was, and while she’d officially been blooded in a dungeon now and been part of destroying all of the dungeons… well, it turned out she was actually closer to Marcille’s age than her fellow Canaries by a lot.

Marcille was pretty sure someone had been ordered to keep an eye on her; it didn’t feel like a coincidence that one or two Canary convicts tagged along to whatever she was doing.

(That was weird too; these were the people who understood the most about ancient magic, and Marcille would have loved to just sit and talk theory with them all day. They’d been forced to direct all of their skills to dungeon breaking, sure, but still.

Any one of them could have a useful insight, resources she’d only ever been denied! Which, they’d been denied too. Obviously. And then found anyway.

The thing was… even the ones who actually cared about the magic itself seemed to have split themselves into two camps when it came to her; they all thought she was still a child, since she was fifty.

But some of them insisted on treating her like she also didn’t know what she was talking about, like she hadn’t been the ruler of the dungeon and directly linked to the infinite the ancients had pulled from, like she hadn’t pulled off a resurrection that should have been impossible! And would have worked perfectly, if Thistle hadn’t come along.

And the others treated her like a cute little kid, maybe one who’d done something impressive, but in general someone to indulge and not take too seriously.)

So. She liked Pattadol, who treated her like an equal, and she didn’t mind talking while they both worked. Marcille actually had more dungeon experience than Pattadol, which definitely helped even if no one would ever be getting any more.

Which was how they’d gotten onto the subject of deaths in the dungeon.

“Oh, my first death was to a slime on the very first floor,” Marcille admitted with a laugh, fondly remembering how excited she’d been. Honestly, flooding the planet with mana would probably have sounded like a good idea back then.

Pattadol smiled along, but didn’t quite manage a laugh. Then again, her first death had almost been to Marcille, in a roundabout way.

“Honestly, I can’t imagine the bravery it takes to go into a dungeon so unprepared… we train for years to be ready, and people told me so many times about the captain’s other partners, but I was still so scared when I thought it would actually happen…”

It reminded Marcille of something Senshi had said, a while back. Not liking how comfortable adventurers became with death… then she paused, something else the elf had said catching in her mind.

“The captain’s other partners? What about them?” She looked around on reflex, but the only member of the squad nearby was Fleki, who was busily chatting up someone with a fresh basket of mushrooms.

Pattadol did laugh this time, an embarrassed little sound and flicked her hair back off her face.

“Oh, not our convicts… actually, most of them have been with him for a while, only Cithis arrived just before me. I mean the other wardens. Captain Mithrun has… had a reputation, because a lot of his other partners died,” she explained with a slightly sheepish smile.

Marcille’s brows furrowed.

“Well, sure, but that happens a lot in the dungeons. People die and then they get brought back, it happens all the time,” she pointed out. Pattadol forced another laugh, most of her attention now firmly on the dough she was kneading.

“Oh, yes, for other people. But ah… when we go into a dungeon, it’s usually to close it? So if the mission is successful, but someone isn’t revived before it’s over, they… sometimes can’t be? And Captain Mithrun lost a lot of partners… which wasn’t his fault, obviously! He’s incredibly skilled; he had never actually died in a dungeon at all until you…” she trailed off again, and Marcille ducked her head and got back to kneading too.

The rhythmic, firm motions helped anyway. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually blown a person’s head open. It had seemed so necessary at the time, like she didn’t have a choice, but… still.

Still, the rest of what Pattadol had said kept running around and around in her head.

Going into the dungeon, walking down to face those monsters and knowing that if everything went right… you could die and stay dead. That had to take a lot more courage than any of the adventurers that made their living in dungeons.

Finally she couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“You know, there was something Senshi said about the dungeon too while we were in it… he never liked resurrections, because they made people not care or think about dying. That when people stop believing that death matters, they get out of step with the cycles of nature.”

Pattadol made a soft noise of encouragement, and Marcille looked up enough to give her a quick smile.

“I was never scared of dying in the dungeon because I never thought it was going to count. I died my very first time, and all it did was make me excited with the possibilities of magic down there. I think what you did was actually much braver than what I did… I don’t know if I could have gone down believing I would die forever.”

This time she got a smile that she actually believed, Pattadol’s cheeks flushing pink. She really was quite pretty, in an awkward sort of way. It reminded Marcille of Falin, when she got flustered.

“Thank you… you know, not many Canaries have ever retired without having been killed in the dungeon at least once, it’s quite an honour. It might just be me and Captain Flamela now,” she added thoughtfully, and Marcille grinned back.

“Then I’m even more glad that you did survive the dungeon, because she already seems hard enough to live with,” she teased, and maybe she’d been hanging around with Laios too much to even have the thought, but Pattadol’s scandalized gasp and nearly dropping her bread bowl made her laugh long and loud.

Kabru slipped away from the two elves thoughtfully, an armful of dirty dish-ware in hand. He hadn’t intended to spy on Marcille and Pattadol; he wasn’t even sure it could count as spying.

They hadn’t kept their voices down, or seemed to care if anyone heard them. He’d just wandered by, and happened to overhear.

And one thing stuck out to him like a sore thumb.

He hurried back through to drop off the dishes for cleaning, barely giving a smile and a wave before hurrying back to the dragon’s clearing. Although, he didn’t think this was something he would be able to ask Mithrun…

The captain might not even know, but from what Kabru understood, he’d been assigned Otta and Lycion before any of the others, and Lycion was currently keeping an eye on Captain Mithrun in case he collapsed.

Kabru was… about sixty percent sure that Lycion liked him. It was hard to tell, but even when they’d disagreed (and when Kabru had been directly getting in his way) the elf had been more mildly irritated than angry.

More importantly though, Kabru was pretty sure he knew what buttons to push to get Lycion to talk. It was actually kinda nice; a lot of Captain Mithrun’s squad seemed to have followed the captain’s example, and were pretty open with information if they didn’t have a reason to keep quiet.

Lycion and Fleki especially enjoyed oversharing, especially if it could get a rise from anyone. Kabru didn’t mind giving them one, if it got him what he needed. Half the time it was less feigned than he might like of course.

He was in luck as Lycion already looked bored, lounging against a tree while Mithrun busily hacked his way down a dragon’s ribcage. The hole he was digging was already past his thighs. The pile of frozen meat inside wasn’t too high, so Kabru hurried directly over to relieve the elf.

Lycion perked up when he saw him, giving a nod and straightening to smile.

“Hey, Kabru. Did you wanna take over with the captain? I had him down for some water a couple of hours ago, but he’s probably due another break soon.”

And, well, that was the other thing he could use as leverage. Apparently Kabru was the only person not in the captain’s squad that Captain Flamela had approved to keep an eye on Mithrun, and absolutely all of them were happy to trade a favour for taking a shift.

(Kabru didn’t mind, actually. He wasn’t a great cook, and really didn’t want to touch the dragon meat more than he could help, and in his books keeping an eye on Captain Mithrun beat running pots and pans around or doing dishes.

Although he was pretty sure all four convicts used him taking their turn as an opportunity to go nap, run into town, or cause trouble instead of actually helping.)

So he beamed back at Lycion, bright and welcoming.

“Sure! Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you first, if you don’t mind?” He asked brightly.

Lycion sighed as if heavily put upon, and leaned back against his tree. He was still smiling though, so Kabru didn’t worry about it.

“Yeah, sure. What’s on your mind?”

Kabru closed the last of the distance between them, glancing around to make sure they were alone. Or at least, not being observed by anyone who would care.

“Oh, it’s just something Pattadol said, about a lot of Captain Mithrun’s warden partners dying.” Watching closely, Kabru caught the moment where the elf froze, his relaxed posture suddenly deliberately, carefully lax.

So he wasn’t wrong, then.

Brightening his smile, he did his best “eager and excited child” impression, which usually went down well with elves.

“I was just wondering how that happened, since you were so quick rushing to retrieve everyones’ bodies when you were… when the others fell while we were waiting for backup,” he stumbled a little feebly over the end, remembering the shaky ground he’d stood on at the time.

Sure, he’d joined the fight and helped as best he could once Laios had been found, but he’d probably been headed back to Milsiril in disgrace right before that.

The look Lycion shot him told him the elf remembered all too well, but oddly he didn’t take the obvious diversion. Instead he cocked his head, giving Kabru a thoughtful look.

“Oh? What did Pattadol say, exactly?” He asked with a carefully studied innocence that Kabru immediately latched onto.

Lycion would feign ignorance with his usual untroubled smile, but this felt different. He matched the tone as best he could, leaning against the tree beside the elf.

“Oh, she was talking about how once you successfully close a dungeon sometimes you can’t bring people back. It sounded really worrying, but I didn’t think closing a dungeon was that spur of the moment. Like you rescued Pattadol from the giant mushrooms before she went down, and said it’d be a pain if Water Walk fell on the others but you could still get them?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, he caught the jump of muscle in Lycion’s jaw. Yeah, people usually didn’t like when Kabru showed how much he’d been paying attention.

For a moment, he wondered if he wasn’t going to get an answer after all. If he’d finally reached the end of Lycion’s laid back patience.

Then the elf hummed softly and Kabru chanced a glance over to see him staring at the sky.

“Did you know that before your little friend blew his head off, Captain Mithrun had never died in a dungeon?”

Kabru flinched. It wasn’t like he’d been on Marcille’s… the dungeon lord’s side at any stage. He just… hadn’t wanted it all to be swept under the rug. Before he could speak though, Lycion waved a hand at him.

“Relax. It’s… pertinent. You also know how we Canary prisoners are bound, right?”

Still wary but willing to wait, Kabru nodded.

“You can only use magic with permission from a warden. You were already transformed, though.” He didn’t think Lycion would be forced back into an elf shape without a warden, but he wasn’t exactly an expert.

Lycion shook his head though.

“Not the point. I don’t really do much healing magic anyway, even with permission. We all learn a bit, basic wound healing and poison stuff, but I can’t even do a simple revival. Pattadol’s…” he paused, searching for a word, then sighed. “She’s annoying, and formal, and over eager and a pain in the ass, but she’s one of the good ones. And a damn good healer.”

Kabru couldn’t help but agree with that; he hadn’t gotten an up close look at what Marcille had done to Captain Mithrun, but enough people who had had come to congratulate her after everything was over that he had to believe them.

Lycion nodded along with him.

“So. Let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re a Canary prisoner. You always need at least one warden alive and up to give the orders to fight or heal. And, one way or another, you’ve gotten assigned to a captain who’s a bit weird. A bit high maintenance. But they leave you alone for the most part, no weird orders or creep shit, and they’re the scariest fucker you’ve ever seen in a dungeon. Nothing seems to touch them. So you can be pretty sure, that guy is going to stay up.”

He cocked his head enough to raise a brow at Kabru, who nodded slowly, already trying to work ahead. To see where the story was going.

He kind of didn’t like what he was seeing.

Lycion nodded again.

“Yeah. I can see you’re with me. And you’re thinking our lives aren’t worth theirs, right?” He asked, still with that dreamy smile on his face.

Kabru stiffened and frowned, looking away reflexively. It. Wasn’t that, he didn’t think anyone deserved… what Lycion was implying, for any crime. It just.

“There have to be rules, don’t there?” He asked quickly, spitting the words out before Lycion could keep going, could say anything else. Could think that maybe he would be on the side of that kind of person. “That kind of abuse of power can’t be allowed.”

Lycion chuckled softly, draping an arm easily around Kabru’s shoulders.

“You’re a cute kid. Yeah, there’s all kinds of rules. Regulations, punishment for anyone who gets caught. But in the end, if it’s a warden’s word against a prisoner, who do you think is believed?” He asked lightly, as if they were discussing what to have for dinner.

Kabru flinched again, caught himself hunching, and forced himself to straighten.

“Captain Mithrun wouldn’t…” and then he stopped, wondering. He was completely certain that Mithrun would never perpetrate that kind of abuse, or approve of it. But… the man couldn’t even eat or sleep on his own.

Lycion gave him a friendly pat on the chest.

“Oh, he wouldn’t tolerate anything that’d affect the mission. Damn hard to get too creepy with that dead eyed stare on you, too,” he agreed cheerfully, raising a hand to wave at the captain.

Then he turned just a little, facing Kabru so that no one else could see his face. Lowered his voice so that even Kabru strained to hear him.

“Unless that’s what you like. Not all of them were giving us trouble,” he added quietly, darkly, and Kabru’s eyes widened, staring past him to the captain, still placidly cutting in his hole.

The captain, who didn’t care where he slept, what he ate, or about anything at all.

A sudden surge of anger and disgust washed through him. Lycion chuckled softly, nodding and leaning in until he was talking directly into Kabru’s ear.

“Not everyone took working under a former dungeon lord well, and while we did the grunt work, it was the other warden’s job to make sure he was alright for a while. They didn’t all like that, either. We lose a lot of people in dungeons, and…” he shrugged, his voice still lazy and calm, and Kabru’s fists clenched, “we’re not against losing a few more.”

Suddenly Kabru was pretty sure things had gotten a lot more direct than just not finding someone’s body. And if he were honest with himself, it wasn’t all that different from some of the things he’d done.

So why should it make a difference if it was for the captain or for the convicts?

Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded stiffly, then blew out his tension along with it. Lycion straightened like nothing had happened, still all smiles, and Kabru caught his hand before he could pull back.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m… glad you had each other.” It didn’t feel adequate, but there was nothing that he could say that would be, or that wouldn’t break their careful bubble of deniability.

Lycion grinned at him, turning and leaning back against the tree again. Out beyond him, Mithrun had actually paused of his own volition and was watching them. Lycion gave him a wave and Kabru fixed a brighter smile onto his face.

“Of course, some of them we did properly lose by accident. There’s all kinds of weird shit a dungeon can do to you to make you impossible to resurrect,” the elf noted cheerfully, nodding towards the hole hiding the remaining mass of Falin, “and I’m pretty sure someone was onto us come the end. We got Cithis… two dungeons ago, I got switched under our other warden, and that one… well, they’d worked with Cithis before. Otta reckons she held a grudge, but I think they were just reckless. They’re fine, retired now,” he added quickly, but Kabru hadn’t planned to ask.

He nodded slowly, watching the captain turn and get back to his cutting. He’d not believed that the Canaries were all noble heroes for a very long time; Milsiril and Helki hadn’t actively discouraged it, but they’d been sure to warn him when he first said he’d wanted to join.

He’d known the kinds of crimes the convicts were usually in for, and long suspected that at least some of the wardens could be corrupted by the amount of power they held over them. Honestly, Lycion hadn’t told him anything he hadn’t already wondered about.

Captain Mithrun’s people just got away with more because their captain honestly didn’t give a shit.

He mulled the thought over for a while, and though he was pretty sure he had the shape of the answer… it didn’t hurt to check.

“You’re very loyal to the captain,” he noted quietly, letting his voice stay soft. It was something he’d noted in the dungeon, at pretty much every turn; Mithrun’s convicts didn’t treat him like a warden, or their jailor. Especially not the way they treated Pattadol, which was full of surface level respect with barely concealed eye rolling.

They treated him as something like an older sibling, or a family friend. Someone to be respected, yes, but not bother with formalities for. Someone they cared about, and cared for in the ways he needed with patience and a fond inevitability.

(In all honesty, Kabru wished he’d seen more of how Cithis in particular usually cared for him; it had been second nature to make sure the captain ate and slept after the week they’d spent together, and he’d kept on being his primary caregiver even after the other Canaries caught up.

Looking back on it, he’d rationalized it by assuming that it was still part of his penance, and that if he didn’t make himself useful they’d just give up the pretence and tie him up the whole time. In actuality… he hadn’t questioned why they passed the captain’s food to him first, or let him take the lead on rest.

Now, he was pretty sure they were intentionally fobbing the captain off on him to slack off since he’d done a good job, even if technically all four convicts were still on the roster with him. Which meant he actually didn’t know anything about how they usually handled him.)

Lycion chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair.

“Does that surprise you? We know a good thing when we have it,” he noted lightly and Kabru nodded slowly, wondering… how to ask without saying the question.

“Honestly? Yes. I understand wanting to keep him alive, and the extra expectations Captain Mithrun needs. I understand the risks of dungeon breaking and trauma bonding, I just… I suppose I’m surprised by how much you care,” he finished with a shy little smile, carefully calculated to flatter.

And Lycion just snickered, reaching up to ruffle Kabru’s hair instead.

“Never, ever let Cithis hear you say that,” he teased… no, that was probably actually a sincere warning, there was too much gravity in his eyes. Kabru noted it obediently.

For a long moment, he thought he’d have to try again, kept trying to frame words to the shape of what he actually wanted to know that didn’t make it sound so… cold. Before he could, though, Lycion had shrugged and straightened, turning to face him again.

“Cithis excepted, obviously, none of us are heartless. The captain is… safe for us, sure, but it’s not just that. He treats me… well, as normally as he treats anyone; he doesn’t look down on me for my body, and so long as I don’t get into trouble he never asks why I want to change. He lets Fleki take her familiar out whenever she wants to, doesn’t bother Otta about her constant flirting with half-foot women, and I’ll deny ever saying this if you tell her, but I do think even Cithis is fond of him,” the elf added, pointing warningly at Kabru.

Who just barely remembered to nod in time, his mind already spinning with questions, calculations, new information. They’d been pretty open with him in the dungeon, answered any questions he actually dared to ask, but…

Well, one of the things Kabru had always wished for was people just telling him how their minds worked. He might still be sceptical of how much he could understand an elf, but this might be as close as he ever got.

Lycion seemed to approve anyway, chuckling again and flicking a ponytail over his shoulder, glancing back to look fondly at the captain.

“He does whatever she wants, when we’re not in the dungeon. Which, y’know, takes all the fun out of it on her side, but I think she respects that he could tell her no but doesn’t bother. It’s not that he cares to make us happy; we know he doesn’t. But he accepts us as we are. Doesn’t try to shame us, or make us feel shitty for whatever crimes we committed.” Lycion paused at that, his brows furrowing for a moment. “Actually, I don’t even know if he knows. They’ll have told him every time, obviously, but if he remembers he’s never said.”

And then, like there was just a string connecting word to action, the elf just walked away. Wandered a little closer to the still frozen pit of dragon.

“Hey, Captain! Do you know what I’m in for?” He yelled, turning the heads of everyone currently collecting the meat Captain Mithrun was dicing. It was piling up at the inner edge of the pit again, and starting to get trickier to haul out.

Realizing that his mouth was hanging open, Kabru closed it quickly (his mother used to warn him a bug would fly in) and hurried after the elf, unsure what he’d hope to accomplish. Unsure what the hell Lycion was looking to accomplish.

For a minute it didn’t look like he’d even gotten Mithrun’s attention, and then the rapid teleporting stopped, Mithrun turning with another thin sheet of flesh in his hands. He squinted at Lycion like he was trying to remember who the elf was… and remembering their encounter with the shapeshifter, Kabru wouldn’t have been surprised if it was true.

Then he shrugged and tossed the sheet aside too.

“You’re our beastman.” And he bent, knocked the loose slabs of flesh aside, and pulled up his cloak to keep going.

Lycion clapped his hands and laughed, turning back to Kabru like he’d just won a prize.

“See? Isn’t he something? Other people keep doing stupid things like asking why I’d want my infinitely superior body, but he just loves me as I am, don’t you Captain?”

The captain did not deign to respond, but Lycion clearly didn’t care. Hurrying back into whispering range, Kabru chanced the direct question. While the elf was in a good mood.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you in for?” He asked quietly, and once again Lycion gave him a look a little sharper than his usual calm.

Then he shrugged and gestured to his torso.

“Oh, I have a life sentence. Can’t stop having an illegally modified body, so it’s not like they can let me go.” He paused, brow creasing momentarily before relaxing. “Oh yeah, and the murders. Probably some assault charges. It’s been a while since I saw my rap sheet.”

Aware that his mouth was hanging open again, Kabru closed it quickly.

It. Wasn’t that he was shocked, honestly. No one was sentenced to the Canaries for minor offences, though Lycion may have been right about his transformation being what forced him in; regular murderers weren’t eligible for service.

It just. Wasn’t what he’d expected. Either the crimes or the light, airy tones Lycion spoke about them in, like none of it mattered. The elf even laughed at the look on his face.

“Oh, relax. Most of them were in totally consensual pit fights, first floor of a dungeon and everything. Apparently it counts as homicide even if you can all get resurrected,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like they weren’t discussing actual murder.

“Or maybe you were convicted for the ones that weren’t?” Kabru felt compelled to ask, and Lycion actually looked honestly thoughtful.

“Y’know, that might be it. Mostly I’m still in for being too beautiful for this world though,” he preened, flicking long silver hair around again. And then one eye slid sideways to lock onto Kabru, and Kabru would swear it was the wolf’s. “So you know what’s coming to you if you hurt the Captain.”

About to try to get back on track, Kabru was abruptly dumbfounded.

“I… you… was that a threat?” He asked weakly, mind playing back over all the rest of their conversation. He had thought Lycion was being remarkably candid… but why would he think Kabru even could hurt the captain?

The elf chuckled softly, the light sound suddenly much more menacing than before as he patted Kabru on the shoulder.

“If Milsiril ever asks, no. And if you ever do anything to hurt the captain, in any way, you’re going to need to run straight back under her skirts as fast as you can,” he told Kabru sweetly, his smile still gentle and warm, his eyes dangerously cold, “I know your scent. You can’t hide from me.”

And then he cocked his head and the moment passed, and Kabru would swear he saw his pupils round out to a human shape again.

“So, was that all you wanted to ask? I’ll take the captain for a bathroom break before I head out, and then Fleki should be along in a couple of hours for dinner,” Lycion asked brightly, for all the world as if they’d been discussing the weather. Or, maybe, asking for advice.

It felt entirely inappropriate, but Kabru laughed in spite of himself.

What the actual fuck was his life? How had any of this ever happened to him? He’d left Milsiril thoroughly convinced that a long-lived person could never truly understand a short-lived one, and yet…

An illegal werewolf just gave him a fucking shovel talk. On top of admitting to numerous other murders, which did lend an air of sincerity that Kabru had to admire.

And, in all honesty, Kabru was quite sure he’d never understood anyone more in his life than he did Lycion in that moment.

(Well, possibly still not the whole “preferring a beastman body” thing, but he was also wise enough to understand that he didn’t need to see the appeal personally; just to understand that Lycion clearly did. And, apparently, had made some pretty persuasive arguments about the benefit that body had for others to at least Fleki and Mithrun.

Kabru was blatantly refusing to even discuss beastmen in Laios’ vicinity, because he was well aware the fucker would have all kinds of potential details and information and the greatest curse of Kabru’s life was his all-encompassing hunger for knowledge. Given the chance, he’d ask.

And he was pretty sure he would not let himself survive the answers.)

It might just have been the ongoing nervous breakdown they’d all been going through in fits and starts, but Kabru couldn’t stop laughing long enough to draw breath, tears welling in his eyes.

Lycion caught him as he sagged, giving him a cheerful pat on the back.

“I’m going to call that a good sign,” the elf declared as Kabru clung to him, because it was that or sit on the forest floor and laugh til he puked.

And then abruptly Lycion shifted, growing larger and hairier (probably to support Kabru’s weight; they were about the same height, but he had a tallman’s more solid build and bone density), and their gentle sway was brought to a stop.

Finally regaining at least a little self control (or being swamped under new curiosity, possibly), Kabru giggled himself to a stop and managed to look up and see Captain Mithrun standing in front of them, apparently out of the pit of his own accord.

He looked… a little confused, honestly, his head cocked to one side as he studied Kabru with an intensity that suddenly made him very self conscious.

“Are you alright?” The captain asked, apparently blatantly unaware that it was the most interest he’d ever showed in Kabru, and definitely unaware that he was contributing to Lycion getting entirely the wrong idea. “Sometimes Fleki gives mushrooms to people and this happens.”

His mouth already opening to form the question, Kabru abruptly decided against it.

He could hunt Fleki down later and ask for more details… or Otta or Lycion, honestly, since even when he’d been threatening to kill him Lycion still apparently liked him.

He. Did he just get Lycion’s blessing to date the captain? That was what that kind of gesture usually meant for tallmen, in a roundabout way.

A grudging one, sure, but the unspoken part of “if you hurt this person I care about” was “because I accept you’re important to them enough to hurt them”. That… might be a cultural difference between elves and tallmen, but Kabru doubted it.

It was actually really sweet in its own way, and the idea of even trying to explain to the captain made him want to shrivel up and die, so Kabru just smiled at him and nodded.

“I’m alright… Lycion was just explaining more about the dungeons you used to seal, and he said something about my step-mother that caught me off guard.” It was mostly the truth, even, so Kabru firmly told himself he did not feel bad even when Captain Mithrun’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

It probably wasn’t actually intentional that he turned a very reproachful eye on Lycion; Captain Mithrun wouldn’t have bothered using puppy eyes on anyone on purpose, but that didn’t make it less effective (or Kabru less glad that it wasn’t on him).

Lycion just grinned, straightening Kabru and pushing him back to his feet, and then ruffling his hair with all that stolen werebeast height.

“Kabru came to see if he could help you, Captain, and I promised to tell him some more stories about Milsiril and Fleki later. You know, the one where Fleki tried to get her to take mushrooms and manipulate dolls with her?”

And honestly Kabru almost missed the moment where the switch of the Captain’s attention flipped, he was so pointedly not watching his every move so that Lycion didn’t get the wrong idea.

(He would probably get that story out of him later though. Just. For continuity’s sake. Definitely not burning curiosity.)

But he didn’t. Not the slight widening of his eye when Lycion said Kabru was here to help, or the way he completely ignored the entire rest of the sentence, his gaze tracking back to Kabru as something curious and warm. The slight smile that pulled at his lips.

“Oh?” It wasn’t even a full question, just a sound of curiosity.

Kabru found himself returning the smile without thinking, his own carefully practiced smile becoming something real. There really was something charming in Mithrun’s complete lack of artifice.

Everything he managed to feel wrote itself across his entire face, perhaps muted compared to anyone else, but still so powerful from him alone. Every expression felt like a tiny victory against the demon.

Unfortunately, he was also very aware that Lycion was now looming over the pair of them, and he had more than enough practice with kobolds to know when a fucking wolfman was grinning at him. Smugly.

Trying to defend himself would only make things worse, so Kabru took a leaf from the Captain’s book and made a show of ignoring him entirely.

“Yes, if you don’t mind, Captain? No one else seems to need me around here, and I’d like to be useful.” That was even mostly true too, and Captain Mithrun especially had to know why Kabru didn’t think he was remotely qualified for cooking.

He’d kept them both alive for the week, sure, but the hardtack had been a blessing. There was no greater condemnation of his culinary skills.

The captain watched him for a long moment, then nodded and stilled, watching Kabru expectantly. Half expecting him to go straight back to cutting, it took Kabru a moment to realize what he was doing.

Was… was the captain waiting for permission? Their changeover did usually include a list of questions that the captain barely acknowledged, but it was part of the routine. Him taking an interest could only be a good thing, couldn’t it?

Before Kabru could ask, Lycion had slung an arm around the captain’s shoulders, still grinning smugly at Kabru.

“Let’s you and I take a quick bathroom break, Captain, and then you can get back to Kabru. Unless you’d rather go with him?” It was far too innocently phrased, enough so that it even caught Captain Mithrun’s attention.

The elf twisted up just enough to squint at Lycion suspiciously, and Kabru suddenly really, really wondered what a shapeshifter would have made of the other Canaries from Mithrun’s head. He’d actually really like to know, almost enough to willingly go near a monster even.

Whatever he saw, the captain just shrugged curtly, turning to walk away.

“No, it’s fine.” And then he paused, glancing back at Kabru, and Kabru had to wonder how the elf saw him now. Still the same vague, barely human sketch? Or had their time together rendered him more memorable?

He almost missed the captain’s next words.

“If it’s time for a break again, I can also tell you stories.”

One of the orcs across the clearing swore abruptly as Kabru swore Lycion made a sound that only other canids could hear, then the wolfman had dragged the captain away cheerfully, chatting a mile a minute about stories Mithrun should tell Kabru.

And left Kabru staring after them, entirely dumbfounded.

Was… Captain Mithrun jealous that Lycion had made him laugh? Was jealousy even an emotion he could feel anymore? The elf had been so certain that the demon had eaten that out of him along with his desires, since it had apparently been one of his core features forty years ago.

Would that make it a good thing if it was coming back? After all, jealousy only happened when you wanted something that someone else had, didn’t it?

And. If the thing Captain Mithrun wanted was Kabru’s attention.

Oh no, his cheeks were flushing. He could feel it. Kabru tried to tell himself it was all Lycion’s fault, putting ideas in his head, but he was unfortunately good at spotting a liar. Even when it was himself.

Hurrying across the clearing, he busied himself carrying the most recent hunks of dragon meat up and over to the piles where Senshi was currently sorting and butchering them. Anything had to be better than wasting his time thinking impossible things.

It was probably nothing. Kabru had been laughing hard enough he’d almost taken Lycion to the ground with him, and then Lycion had transformed, which was an even bigger way to get everyones’ attention.

The captain heard they were discussing stories, and he had stories to tell. And no desire to avoid sharing them. It would keep his next break from being boring, or torturous for both of them as Kabru searched for some way to distract him.

It was that simple.

Absolutely no chance of anything else.

And, if down the line, there was a tiny chance that the captain would actually desire anyone… or maybe Kabru specifically… to pay attention to him, well, that would be fine anyway. Kabru was coming to accept that his fascination with the elf wasn’t going away even without forced isolation; it was better for Mithrun to start by wanting something that Kabru could happily and easily give.

And that was probably all there was to it.

That and a nosy, interfering, smug little shit werewolf who had apparently decided to get involved in absolutely everything that didn’t involve him and probably didn’t even exist.

Because when Captain Mithrun came back from their bathroom break, he was shirtless, wearing only the tiny shoulder-piece and sleeves over his skirt and boots . And apparently mildly confused about why he was so, handing Kabru the overlarge shirt that Kabru was rather certain was actually Laios’.

“Lycion said it would be too hot to keep working. I don’t feel hot,” he said bluntly, which Kabru always found a little funny whenever he said that sort of thing.

Who knew better than Mithrun that he couldn’t feel tired, or hungry, or hot?

But this was just silly, because it wasn’t the middle of summer anymore and the afternoon was wearing on, and Captain Mithrun always ran too cold anyway. Kabru firmly handed him the shirt back, determinedly not looking anywhere but his one dark eye.

“He’s just overheating because he’s furry, Captain. Maybe he forgot that it’s colder for those of us without a beast form?”

Which would actually probably be for the best, since Lycion never actually wore much clothing anyway; it would just be destroyed when he changed, which was as often as he could feasibly get away with. Honestly he owed Kabru already for having given him an excuse to change at all.

Captain Mithrun didn’t seem to buy it, giving Kabru a sceptical look but he accepted the shirt back and pulled it on, then shoved at the sleeves until they finally bunched in place on his arms instead of flopping down to cover his hands.

That wouldn’t help; they’d only fall down once he got moving again, and Kabru caught his hand quickly when one started to slip and irritation flashed on the elf’s face.

“Captain, let me fold those back for you. They’ll slide about less… actually, we should probably get you some clothes that fit you, don’t you have some on the ship?” Kabru asked suddenly, struck by the absurdity even as he painstakingly folded the sleeves over themselves up the captain’s surprisingly muscular arms.

The elf shot him an unimpressed look.

“I don’t need armour now.”

Done one arm, Kabru got started on the other.

“Not your armour, some casual clothes. Something you wear when you’re not on duty?”

Even less impressed, somehow, Mithrun tried to turn away.

“I only wear my uniform. I don’t need the armour now,” he reiterated, like Kabru was misunderstanding him on purpose.

Kabru’s brows furrowed. It… probably shouldn’t have been a surprise, since even when Mithrun had bathed he’d dressed straight back into that overlarge shirt. It still felt almost inconceivable.

He knew the Canaries only ever wore their uniforms when on a mission, but all the wardens got to bring a handful of personal belongings; it was one of their perks. A set of comfortable clothes for after the mission’s end was such a basic comfort…

That Mithrun wouldn’t even think of. He might not even have any personal belongings at all, which was terribly depressing.

(And if he did… what were they? Kabru would love to know, and he could certainly just ask; Mithrun had no desire not to answer. But it wouldn’t be the same as seeing those things, and how the captain treated them.)

Sighing to himself, he finished folding back the other sleeve and gave the captain a hopeful smile.

“Well, maybe that’s something we can do after you’re done today? Go into town and see if we can find some better fitted clothes, or back to the ship for your spare uniform,” he added when Mithrun cocked his head, looking confused.

Then the elf looked down at the baggy shirt, then back up to Kabru.

“This is fine,” he said slowly, like he was actually trying to look ahead and work out what Kabru’s objections would be.

His smile becoming fond and more genuine, Kabru nodded.

“It’s working, but better sleeves would get in your way less, and it’ll give us something to do while your mana recovers?” He offered instead, hoping he could appeal at least to the captain’s irritability. It was easier when he had a fixed desire.

Captain Mithrun fell silent again, his head turning as his eye slid over to Senshi, still butchering his way through the meat along with several others.

Kabru hesitated. That… was happening more and more lately. When Mithrun was unoccupied he often wandered off, but more often than not these days Kabru could find him by finding the dwarf. Which was actually really cute.

And way more convenient than scouring the island for a bored teleportation expert with no regard for his own body.

Chuckling softly, Kabru shook his head.

“Alright, instead how about we ask Pattadol to get someone to get your spare uniform, and I’ll run to get one of my old shirts in the meantime? It’ll still be too big, but at least the arms will fit better?”

The captain’s old uniform wasn’t an option; made of arachne silk or not, being back inside the spider had done something horrible to the armour tunic that absolutely refused to come out. The under-armour had managed slightly better, sleeves and skirt scrubbing down well enough, but that left him with a frankly irresponsible expanse of skin between shoulders and waist.

Even the boots were barely salvageable, but at least they still bent.

Captain Mithrun examined his rolled sleeves for a long moment, then looked back to Kabru and nodded. If he was giving Kabru a more appraising look, it was probably just to consider the size Kabru’s shirt would be on him.

Kabru resolved to get something with shorter sleeves. Or maybe just tack them down with a sewing kit.

It had to be better than Laios’s anyway; he was large even for a tallman, and Captain Mithrun could probably get any two of the other Canaries in there with him. It even nearly covered the green slats of his armoured skirt.

Finally the captain nodded, turning back towards the dragon.

“Alright. I’m going to keep going.” And honestly? The fact that he wasn’t just teleporting himself back down was also progress, and Kabru immediately hurried after him to help heft him down onto the remaining lump of dragon.

And figured fuck it, he could lift out the last of the cut chunks since he was already over there. At least while it was frozen he could pretend it was just ice that he was touching.

“Just a second Captain, let me get down first to take a look and then I’ll help you,” he said quickly, suiting word to deed and hopping into the hole away from most of the meat scraps.

It was actually beginning to get pretty deep, a little past Kabru’s waist now when he was just on the uncut surface; they’d probably need a ladder by tomorrow. Kabru made a mental note to ask around for one, and ask if anyone knew just how deep Falin’s dragon portion would sink into the ground.

Based only on the shape he could see… they’d probably need to get someone on clearing away the dirt from the back too, the bones were beginning to curve.

Laios would know exactly what shape and position the dragon was in, probably. Maybe that could be his problem.

Captain Mithrun had obediently stopped at the edge of the hole, looking a little impatient as Kabru took just one moment to survey the situation. Before he could decide to just jump down and probably land in the pile of cut pieces, Kabru hurried back, holding up his hands to help the elf down.

“You’re making a lot of progress! I’ll get a ladder tonight, and maybe some pulleys and things to get the meat back up; we might not need it today, but it��ll make things easier if we have it ready before we do,” he called up, giving the captain an encouraging smile.

Mithrun was light enough on his feet that he’d almost certainly be fine, and able to recover his footing even on a block of ice covered in smaller, melting shards, but he was about equally likely to take Kabru out by accident as he did it.

Or teleport a lump of meat in annoyance without picking a destination, and they really did need to eat as much as possible. Apparently. Never mind that “without a destination” had meant into people more than once.

The captain did give his hands a sceptical look before taking them, clearly humouring him, but Kabru wasn’t about to complain. Or say much of anything, actually, because that was about when he noticed that for a change, the flash of pale between boot and skirt as the elf stepped forward <wasn’t> his leggings.

That was bare skin.

Mithrun’s pale, bare skin. Kabru’s eyes travelled upwards in an uncontrollable slide, his head just barely above the elf’s knees, and Captain Mithrun’s hands slid into his and those were his thighs and they were close enough Kabru could just lean forward and he’d see everything-

And he was so frozen and stiff he nearly toppled over when Mithrun swung down, the elf’s slight weight just enough to knock him off balance while his brain short circuited.

At least he managed to catch them both before they both hit the wall, his whole face suddenly burning and mouth working soundlessly. The captain gave him an odd look and stepped away, not actually asking why Kabru wanted to give him a hand down when he clearly couldn’t even stand upright himself, but he might as well have.

For the best. Kabru wasn’t sure he could make his mouth work well enough to form words.

Not until Fleki arrived, anyway, and then he was going to go and find Cithis and tell her that Lycion had been telling him how sweet and gentle she was with the captain, and that he should ask her… no, that Pattadol would be coming to ask her how they developed such a close bond.

Because the bastard hadn’t just sent Captain Mithrun back to Kabru shirt in hand to fuck with him. He’d also fucking left with the captain’s pants.

All sorts of vengeful thoughts were welling in Kabru’s mind, cut off only by the sudden press of a small, cold hand to his temple. Well and truly snapped out of it, he stumbled a little and blinked, bringing Captain Mithrun’s frowning face back into focus.

The elf made a soft, considering noise and removed his hand, looking at it with mild interest.

“Perhaps Lycion was right. You’re overheating. Sit on the ice.” And he reached out and planted a hand on Kabru’s chest, shoving with a strength Kabru still wasn’t used to seeing and sending him ungracefully to his ass.

Still trying to catch his breath, he watched Captain Mithrun walk away, bend down (and he’d never been more grateful for the length of Laios’ shirt or the armoured skirt because his heart was already hammering against his ribs), and pick up his cloak to get back to work.

It took longer than he’d like to get his breathing under control, or for his pulse to stop pounding in his ears, and for once in his life Kabru couldn’t even use the time to think.

Well. Except one thought, that wouldn’t stop playing on repeat through his head.

Maybe Lycion was more observant than he’d thought.

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