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Chapter Text

   Yes, an escape, from the Dungeons of Aquila, in fact.

  I bet you're wondering how a mousey young woman like me ended up down here, anyway?

   After all, it's dank, it's disgusting, and most importantly, it's filled with innocent people who are only imprisoned because the Bishop of Aquila just sort of dislikes them.

   Well, first of all, I'm not the lecherous old Bishop's type. 

   Or so I've heard. 

   Second, okay, yeah, maybe I am a petty thief, of the pickpocketing variety, specifically. 

  And maybe I picked too many of the wrong pockets, but you can't blame a girl for trying! I ended up in Aquila by accident, and I needed the coin to buy my way back out. 

   And also I just enjoy doing it. 

   But I promise, Lord, if you safely remove me from this place, I will change my ways! Please, please, please deliver me from this...

  Oh, I guess I'm technically under the Dungeon, in the sewage system, in fact. 

  I can hear the Bishop and Marquet, the captain of his guardsmen, interrogating my former cellmate. 

  I didn't realize I was that important! Must have pissed him off.

   Okay, so most of the people I pickpocketed were men in uniform. I figured they'd have more gold, being in the employ of a holy man!

   Not one of my better ideas, I guess. 

   Or he decided I am his type after all, a thought I immediately banish from my mind.

   Listening closely, it seems my former cellmate is trying to rat me out, damn him, but he was locked up for being a loon, and they're brushing him off, skeptical that I could have fit in the tiny little grate below their feet.

   Jokes on them; I didn't become known as 'The Mouse' for nothin'.

   And now I'm going to be the first woman to escape from the dungeons of Aquila! Or first anyone at all, in fact. 

   Now if I could just gently lower myself into this mucky water, and make my esc- "aaaAAAHHH!"

   Losing my grip and hitting the water with a cold splash, I hoped to hell that no one heard my sudden scream, instinctively diving under just in case someone checked the grate.

   Swimming a few feet until I was sure I could no longer be spotted, I surface to collect my thoughts and form a plan.

   I need to find somewhere else to exit, a loose grate I can pry open or an unguarded entryway. 

   Passing through several very narrow passageways, swimming under low beams, at one point stopping to re-braid my shoulder-length hair I've long contemplated chopping off, I finally make it to another grate, only to find that it leads to the Cathedral, where the Bishop is now leading Mass.

   Why even have a grate there?! It has to stink up the place. Maybe that's what the men carrying ceremonial insense burners are for?

   Someone steps onto the grate I'm clinging to, almost crushing my fingers, and I decide to move on.

  After a several dead-ends and a scare with a floating bull skull I mistook for a terrible monster, I finally see daylight! An end to the tunnels, a gated entrance where the sewage dumps out into a river running alongside the hill Aquila was built on.

   As I squeeze my way out of a gap where the metal had broken away, thanking God for my flat frame, I hear chattering above me; a few guards taking a midday meal break on a low wall.

    Once more won't hurt, I guess, and I slowly creep up, silent as the grave, slipping one man's dagger from its holster and using it to cut his purse strings and drag it over to me before replacing it carefully. 

   It hardly takes me seconds, and by the time the man realizes what's happened, I'm an hour away, and I hear the warning bells of Aquila peal from behind me as I set out on the road to freedom. 

          ~*~*~*~

   I hardly stopped walking once I was on the road, stealing some clothes from one rickety farmhouse where the washing was hanging out to dry, then another where I found a pair of boots.

    Just my luck, the clothes ended up being men's sizes, but hopefully it'll turn out to be a handy disguise. 

   Let me paint a picture for you; short, skinny, and ragged little mouse, by name of Philomena Gaston, dirt brown hair in a loose and rather badly-done braid, skin smudged with grime, baggy trousers tucked into tight boots, white shirt underneath brown jerkin, purse full of coins hidden under that.

   This should have been it until the next town over, but I never learned to keep my big mouth shut, did I?

  Two days later, when I spot the town in the distance, I practice a manly swagger, but I can't quite maintain it without hurting my hips, so I drop it before anyone can see.

   Noticing the outdoor pub and the people gathered there, I can't resist the urge to gloat about my daring escape from Aquila. 

   So I step up to the bar and take out the purse, counting heads and coins until I have enough for everyone, then I say to the barman, "next round is on me, my good man!"

   He looks at me incredulously and starts lining up flagons, so I turn to my audience and announce, "I'm so glad you could join me here today!"

   A few curious heads look my way, and I continue, "you see, folks, two days ago I became the first person to ever escape the dungeons of Aquila!"

   A few people raise their eyebrows, and a gruff voice asks, "is that so?" from behind a dark hood.

   Drawing my attention, I see that several tables are full of men in cloaks, and my smile falls before he can even turn to confirm my fears.

   It's Marquet, the Captain of the guard at Aquila, and I have a split second to wonder how he got here ahead of me before him and his men lunge at me, some of them brandishing swords. 

   But even a trained soldier is too slow for me, and I leap onto the bar, then from there up to the vine-covered arbor over the tables. 

  The thing holds my weight just fine, but the action is getting frantic underneath me; regular pub-goers are screaming as shouting soldiers are stabbing their swords up in my direction. 

   I deftly avoid their blades, but with enough stabs, the structure starts crumbling beneath me, and I stumble over the edge, hitting the ground hard and wheezing as I'm grabbed by several men at once, who throw me onto a nearby table, holding me down. 

  I start squealing like an offended noblewoman, which makes a few of the more good-hearted soldiers back off nervously, but Captain Marquet has no such weaknesses.

  I see him stalk towards me, drawing his sword, and I close my eyes tightly, utterly terrified of facing death and wondering exactly what I did to deserve this. I guess the Bishop took offense to my escape? 

   I hear the man draw breath, probably to say something pithy and annoying about me and my career as a thief.

   A sudden whizzing noise cuts through the air, the thunk of a crossbow bolt hitting solid human, one of the men shouts in pain, and I'm suddenly released from their grips.

   Rolling out of the way as Marquet swings down, I hear him scream behind me as his sword lodges into the wooden table. 

   More bolts are fired, more men are struck, swords are swung at me as I desperately search for my savior. 

   I spot him by the gate into the pub, wearing all black, including a long cloak, and holding up the crossbow, so I rush towards him, only looking up briefly to see him nod and let me pass, handing his weapon to me so he can draw a rather intimidating sword. 

   Glancing back to watch him block my pursuers, I stop behind someone's big black horse to listen in on his conversation with Marquet.

   I don't catch the whole thing; something about my rescuer being a well-respected former colleague of the Captain's, and some of the soldiers refer to him reverently, voices filled with admiration. 

   Whoever he is, he was idolized by these men, so why come to the defense of little ol' me?

   The shouting starting up again, along with the shriek of some predatory bird.

   Startled out of my thoughts, soon I'm up and running again, leaving the crossbow behind in my shock.

   I'm just outside the edge of the town, still running, when I hear hoofbeats behind me, and I'm already screaming in panic when a gloved hand grabs the back of my shirt and scoops me up to sit in front of him on the horse.

   "Oh God please I promise I won't ever boast about anything ever again-" I'm babbling, my hands folded together in prayer, when a warm voice cuts me off.

  "What did a little mouse like you do to offend the Bishop of Aquila so badly?"

   Looking down at the black horse and his owners black leather gloved hands on the reigns in front of me, I craned my neck as far around as I could to acquaint myself with the face of my savior. 

   His expression was rather serious, but I could tell by the other features of his face that this wasn't normal for him.

  He had short blond hair and a high hairline, the shape of his nose uncharacteristic of the region, and eyes so blue I felt like they would pierce into my soul.

  I turn away, his stare making me nervous, and answer, "I escaped from the famous dungeons of Aquila... where I was imprisoned for petty thievery."

   "And the Bishop is very petty," the man commented unexpectedly, and I snort in laughter. 

   Catching my breath, I asked him a question of my own, "and you know the Bishop well enough to say that?"

   "I do," he answered cryptically, and I turn to look at him out of the corner of my eye, which he responds to with a shrug.

  I hear the shrieking of a bird again and cringe as the man holds an arm out, where a beautiful brown hawk lands and looks at me curiously. 

 "Whoa..." I breathe and lock eyes with it, "is that what that sound was?"

   "Say thank you," he tells me, and I blink.

   "To you or the bird?" I ask, eyeing the jesses tied to its feet.

   Laughing fondly, probably because of the bird, he whispers, "she is a lady deserving of respect, after all."

   I don't quite get what he means, but I say, "in that case, I am most appreciative of your help, milady," in my best high-born voice.

   "Do you have a name, mouse?" The man asks abruptly. 

   "It's Philomena, Philomena Gaston," I tell him the truth, even though I'm not sure why, "and you?"

   "Etienne of Navarre," he replies curtly as the hawk takes off from his arm and rises above us, soaring on the wind with grace and majesty.

   "Well, Sir Navarre, if you'd just drop me off here, we can go our separate ways-"

   "You think you can outrun them? They'll be on horseback, it's only fair that you escape on horseback too," he says, his mouth somewhere behind one of my ears.

   I lean forward slightly as the horse picks up speed, "that's very kind of you to offer, but..."

   Attempting to struggle my way off the horse, I find myself locked in by the man's black-clad arms, and I have no choice but to let my rescuer take me wherever it his he's going. 

Chapter Text

   We keep riding until sunset, when Navarre directs his horse off the path and into the woods. 

  Flinching, I turn and try to argue with him, and his silence almost makes me stay my tongue.

  It doesn't work, of course, but I do change my argument just slightly. 

  "If you plan on asking strangers for a place to stay the night, we're not pretending to be married," I pout at him.

  "Wasn't planning on it," he says with just barely a smile, and I take offense. 

  "Not that I'm adverse to the idea," I cross my arms, "I just wanted to spare your feelings."

  He chuckles and says, "no need," and I'm halfway to opening my mouth again when he shushes me and points to a very dilapidated farmhouse with a barn and stable to match. 

  The owner of the place is chopping wood, his wife milling around doing whatever, and when they see us, they freak out, the farmer holding his axe like a weapon as his wife hides behind him.

  I'm not sure exactly why this is, but Navarre clears his throat and says, "my companion and I are looking for a place to stay the night."

  The farmer shakes his head furiously and answers, "no room," as though that should be the end of that.

  Navarre holds out a hand, and I reluctantly give him my coin purse, which he dangles like bait, "we can pay, and you don't have to worry about feeding us."

  The farmer looks at his wife, who nods, and he points to the furthest building from the farm house, which is the stables.

  Navarre lifts me off the horse like I weigh nothing before dismounting himself, then takes two gold from the purse and hands it back to me. 

   Walking forward slowly, leading his horse behind him, Navarre approaches the farmer and his wife carefully, handing them the two coins, and then continues to the old stables.

   He apparently notices me just standing and watching, because he tilts his head to indicate that I should come along.

   So I follow him to the stable, standing by the doorway as he leads the horse in and contemplating trying to run for it.

   I take a peek inside to see if he's distracted, and distracted he is, pulling something lilac and flowy out of a saddlebag. 

   In the low light, it looks like it might be an article of women's clothing, and he's clutching it like a lifeline, clearly in some distress, so I wait by the door until he puts it away again, then creep my way in over the crunchy straw floor.

  "You're not that stealthy, mouse," he mutters, and I freeze.

   "Oh, I... didn't want to interrupt?"

   Navarre hangs his cloak on a hook and suddenly, the hawk sweeps into the room and perches there.

   He looks at me, a curious look on his face, then turns to the bird again, and asks, "how did you do it? Escape from Aquila, I mean?"

   "As it turns out, I am that stealthy!" I answer gleefully, "there's grates into the sewer system all around Aquila, it's no problem at all to open them up and crawl out, especially if you're skinny enough."

  Navarre looks at me again, then sighs and says, "get some sleep."

   The hawk makes a gentle, tired sound, and I bed down on one of the larger piles of straw, feeling a bit weird when I realize Navarre is staring down at me.

   Eventually, he moves on, and after a few minutes, three days of no sleep finally catches up to me, and I'm snoring into the hay.

      ~*~*~*~

   But that doesn't last long, of course, and I wake up in sudden panic when I think I hear rustling in the darkness. 

   Getting up and noticing that Navarre and the hawk are gone, but the horse is still there, I peer out the doorway and see the night outside is black as pitch.

   This is too much for my fragile nerves, and I start sneaking away up the hill behind the stable, babbling the entire time. 

   "Oh God please I don't want to die I promise I'll be good I promise just please-"

   I'm out of the woods, stomping through rough shrubs and grass, by the time my conscience finally kicks in and stops me in my tracks.

   "Wait, where am I going? Okay, Navarre has to be plotting something, but on the other hand, he's also a great fighter, so I should stick with him for protection," I reason with myself.

    I'm already determined to turn around when I hear several branches snapping and the growl of an animal, and I turn and run back to the farm.

   "Oh my God what am I doing I'm so stupid what a terrible idea," I mutter under my breath as I hide behind a tree and look around it.

   In hardly a second, I'm screaming as I dodge an axe aimed at my face.

   It's the farmer, apparently deciding it was worth it to murder his guests, probably to take the rest of our gold.

   Or maybe he's in the pay of the Bishop, but whatever his problem is, I don't have time to think about it when a gigantic wolf leaps at the man, taking him to the ground, snarling over the man's screams. 

   I don't stop to watch long, running into the stable to see if Navarre has returned alive.

   When I see he isn't there, my terror increases ten-fold, but something else catches my eye. 

   Someone is there, wearing Navarre's cloak, and when I step on the straw floor, they turn around to face me. 

   I can see the eyes underneath the hood, a beautiful ocean blue set in a lovely, lively face, framed by light brown hair that looks like it was cut with a knife.

   "Uh... wow," I'm stuttering, my mouth hanging open, "am I dreaming?"

   The howling of a wolf draws both our attentions, and she walks past me, patting my shoulder and whispering, "you are. It'll be all over soon."

   She leaves the stable, and I follow her to the door to watch.

   The wolf is hovering over a dark lump on the ground, and the woman approaches it with no sign of any fear at all.

   I almost call out, but I stop when she reaches out to pat the animal as though it was a domesticated dog, and it gratefully accepts the offered hand.

   Then the two of them walk away into the woods, leaving me behind with the horse, and possibly an angry farmers wife in the morning. 

        ~*~*~*~

   I must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing I know, I'm being awakened by Navarre early in the morning.

   "Quickly, mouse! We have to go, now!"

    Never an early riser, I slap his hands away and murmur, "prepare the horse first, then I'll get up."

    "The horse is prepared," he tells me, and I look at him before groaning in irritation and pulling myself up.

    "What happened last night?" I ask him, still overcome with drowsiness.

    "I was going to ask you the same thing after we get on the road," he responds, and I nod.

    Outside the stable, he climbs up into the saddle, then pulls me up after him, and we set out quickly, not even looking back at the damage we caused. 

   There's no sign of the woman or the hawk, but once we're out in the open, I spot the predatory bird high overhead, and point to her as she flies.

   "There's your friend," I say with a breathless laugh. 

   "I think she's taken a liking to you, too," Navarre says, but I'm not sure what his evidence for that is.

    We ride on at top speed for a while, and then he slows down a bit, and I can feel myself dozing off in his arms when he asks me, "what did happen last night?"

   Jolted from my nap, I open my mouth and start off with, "well, I woke up and you weren't there, probably left to take a piss, I know how you men are-"

   "Do you?" He chuckles, hopefully because he thinks I'm funny and not because he's going to kill me later.

    "-so I went to look around, not that I intended to peep or anything, but then the farmer attacked me with an axe!"

   Silent this time, I felt him breathe in and out before saying in a low voice, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help."

   Empathetic person that I am, I hear the genuine remorse in his voice, so I accept his apology, "you're forgiven. He was attacked by a wolf anyway."

   "Was he?" This gets his attention, so I explain.

   "Yeah, it jumped him, then this woman in your cloak walked away with it like it wasn't utterly terrifying and violent- wait, how did you get the cloak back?"

    Before he could answer, the hawk descended upon us, and he held out his arm for her to land.

   "You must have been dreaming," he laughed again, but with a twinge of sadness this time.

   "That's what the woman said when I asked!" It was my turn to laugh, mostly at how ridiculous the situation was getting, "but you believe me, don't you? Please say yes!"

   "I do believe you, " he added softly, "I believe in dreams... this lady, did she mention her name?"

   Wondering what the point of his question was, I answer, "not to me, no."

   "Shame, I was hoping to see her in my dreams tonight," he whispers, and I don't even bother to ask him what the hell that means, "I could call her by name and pretend that we've met before."

    The bird makes a tearful sound before taking off again, and the infinite misery in Navarre's voice tells me something else is going on, but I'm too tired to understand it now, so I lean heavily against him and let the rhythm of the ride put me to sleep. 

   I could swear I hear him say, "this can't be a comfortable way to fall asleep," but I am, in fact, very capable of falling asleep wherever I want, and by then, I'm too far gone to respond.

Chapter Text

   When I next wake up, I'm on the ground, wrapped in Navarre's cloak next to a blazing campfire, the man himself nowhere to be seen.

   I shift into a sitting position and notice the hunks of meat on sticks sizzling over the fire.

   Having gone days without food, I realize how starving I am, but I don't move to take a skewer just yet, choosing to observe my surroundings instead. 

   It's just about midday, and the horse is here, so its Master can't be too far away, I hope.

  The hawk is eyeing me from a low branch, and I can't help but feel like she'll sound the alarm if I leave the clearing. 

   Despite the fire and the black cloak, I shiver, then tense up as I hear a branch snap behind me, until a familiar voice calls out, and I relax. 

   "Help yourself," Navarre tells me, "you were so fast asleep, I didn't dare wake you."

   I feel a wet tap at my shoulder and turn to see he's handing me a filled water skin, and I take it with enthusiasm. 

   Shrugging off the cloak, I take a swig of water and wipe my face on my sleeve before grabbing a skewer of meat.

   Navarre sits across the fire from me and watches as I eat, making me feel nervous and just a little embarrassed. 

   "What, never seen a peasant eat before?" I snap to hide my emotions.

   I immediately regret it when he raises an eyebrow and says, "I thought you would ask what kind of meat it was, is all."

   "It's rabbit, isn't it?" I ask, though I'm sure I'm right, "I've lived on tiny animals before, don't worry."

   "My apologies, I wasn't aware you had such robust survival skills," he smirks and turns his eyes to the fire, where icey blue reflects the spark of flames.

   I finish my first stick in silence and grab another, my eyes roaming from place to place, the woods, his eyes, the hawk, the horse, his arms...

  Shaking my head, I ask the first question that comes to mind.

  "Does the horse have a name?"

  "This is Goliath," he smiles, and I feel as though he really loves this horse, because I've yet to see him smile this widely, "best horse a man could ever want."

  The giant animal stomps the grass and snorts, and I have to laugh. 

   "We'll have to get him a special treat at the next opportunity," I suggest, and I see Navarre's eyes sparkle as he nods.

   When I finish the three skewers, I stand to stretch, and the man gets up to retrieve his cloak.

  He looks a little startled when I pick it up and dust it off before handing it to him, but he thanks me just the same. 

   "You really didn't have to let me use it, anyway," I tell him, but he shakes his head.

   "The hawk wouldn't let me leave you alone without it," he tilts his head towards her, preening on her branch.

   Following his eyes in that direction, I reply, "seriously?"

   "I told you, I think she likes you," Navarre lifts his arm, and the hawk swoops over to perch on his fist, "see, now you try."

   "I'm not sure about this..." I whine, but he fixes me with a stern look, so I back up slightly and lift my left arm, pulling the sleeve farther down so she won't dig her talons into bare flesh.

   For a second, I'm convinced she won't go for it, but then she launches from Navarre's arm, twisting in the air so she can face him when she lands.

   The hawk is lighter than I thought she would be, but still heavier than a coin purse, and I lurch under her weight before straightening up.

   At first, Navarre still looks serious, before he breaks into a grin and says, "isn't that lovely? A mouse and a hawk!"

   "Are you suggesting that she eat me?!" I look back and forth between them, "I have enough to worry about! What if the wolf is still out there?!"

   "There's wolves all over this country," his laugh is flat and defeated, "I wouldn't worry about that one."

   The hawk makes a mournful sound and takes off, and Navarre goes to check his saddlebags before we move on.

          ~*~*~*~

  We travel until it's almost night, avoiding the roads and choosing to pass through forests and meadows.

   As the light fades, I grow more and more nervous, and soon Navarre has us both wrapped in his cloak to stop my shivering. 

  Eventually, we stop in a copse of trees, and Navarre dismounts from his horse before giving me a hand.

   Safely on the ground, I sit down heavily in the dirt while he goes to search for fire wood and something to eat, then I change my mind and get up to help. 

   Picking up sticks off the ground, I struggle to keep pace with him, being way shorter than he is, but I eventually catch up, carrying the wood in my arms.

   I didn't expect him to turn around and add his bundle to mine, but he did with a tired smile, whispering, "good job."

   "Thanks..." I respond, even though my tiredness wasn't quite as deep as his.

   We return to the spot where we left Goliath, who stands there eating grass, and Navarre starts our fire before leaving to see if he can hunt any small game. 

   I'm not as nervous to be alone this time, even though the nagging feeling of impending violence sits at the back of my mind. 

   The minutes stretch onward, but just when my nerves begin to get the better of me, Navarre appears with a rabbit, and the hawk descends upon us carrying one of her own.

   "Ah, blessed man and hawk," I cry, sincere for once, "two hunters of excellent skill and tenacity!"

   He shakes his head despite his obvious smile, "come now, mouse, butcher one of these, with you? Then we'll see who has the tenacity here!"

   "You ask a lady to play butcher?" I act like I'm taking offense. 

   Okay, I really am taking offense, but you'd do the same if a man asked you to butcher a small animal!

   "You deny the chance to prove your mettle?" He's grinning again, and I don't like the fact that it's at my expense. 

   So I stand and walk over, and he hands me a knife from his saddlebags, then the smaller of the two rabbits.

   I look at the damn dead thing in my hands, its beady little black eyes still open and glittering, and I feel like I'm going to lose what small amount I have eaten.

   "Well, uh... just because I've eaten rabbit doesn't mean I've ever done... this part?"

   He tuts in disappointment and says, "so you are a delicate young lady, after all?"

   "What made you think I wasn't?" I'm starting to get irritable, and I lash out with a question I've been too afraid to ask, "what are you keeping me around for, anyway?"

   At first, he looks like he doesn't understand, tilting his head to the side like a listening dog, but then he takes the knife and rabbit from me and tells me, "sit down."

    I do as he bids, even though it adds to my bad mood, and when he sits rather close and unceremoniously begins butchering the rabbit, I feel like I'm going to be sick.

   "You boast like a man of your escape from Aquila, you're wearing men's clothes and boots, you have the walk and the attitude of a man, and you're a thief," he answers my first question, very honestly in fact, and I know I can't argue, but I do anyway. 

   "I'm a victim of circumstance," I plead, looking him in the eyes, "if it weren't for my low birth, I could have been as well raised as any noble."

   "Even women of low birth don't do the things you do," he answers, and I can't tell who he's insulting now.

    "And how many women do you know to compare me to?" Two can play at this game. 

   But he looks at me with sadness again, "you couldn't be more different from the women I know."

   Hearing a crunching noise, I look down and realize he had been distracting me on purpose; his hands are utterly covered in blood, and he's been feeding bits of viscera to the hawk. 

   Standing so quickly my head starts swimming, I stumble away into the brush and dry heave, leaning against a tree and hoping I won't actually vomit.

   I hear Navarre call me, but I can't make out a word, my entire being focused on expelling this horrible nausea. 

   Minutes pass, and the fog clears, my stomach finally settling without the disastrous experience of losing what little was in it.

   Turning back, I enter the clearing again and see that the meat has been skewered on a few of the smaller sticks, and the hide, bones, and entrails of both rabbits are gone.

   Navarre has cleaned his hands somehow, and I try not to think about it as I sit across the fire from him.

   His demeanor is apologetic, and he says so, "I'm sorry, mouse," as he passes over the water skin. 

    I drink a little, clearing the sour taste from my mouth, and reply, "it's alright. I did tell you I hadn't done that before, though."

   "You did, and I am sorry," he repeated.

   "Then why have me sit so close in the first place?"

   Inspecting the cooking meat, he answers, "to make it easier to distract you," and I think he's telling the truth. 

   Stifling a yawn, I then thank him, "I appreciate the attempt, anyway."

   He doesn't say anything else, and I wonder if he heard me, when he finally opens his mouth, "I can't tell you yet what I'm keeping you around for."

   This is baffling, and I'm about to say so when he goes on, "I still have a few things left to figure out, but I promise you, you'll know when I'm ready for you to know."

   My usual great judgement of character is starting to act up, and I'm not sure if I trust him or not, but I really don't have any choice, do I?

   "I believe you," and I'm only half lying, but his wretched sigh makes me feel awful.

   Checking the meat one last time, he encourages me to eat while taking one of his own, and something about his teeth sinking into the flesh makes my stomach rebel.

   But I eat anyway, and the meat tastes like hell and all its minions placed this rabbit on earth to curse me into oblivion.

Chapter Text

   I'm woken up in the middle of the night again, and by the low light of the fire I can tell that I'm alone once more. 

   "Damnit, Navarre," I muttered irritably, getting up from the ground, "seriously, don't make me go looking for you."

   I move in circles around the campfire, my head spinning in every direction as I look out for Navarre, but he's nowhere to be seen. 

   I'm considering untying Goliath when I spot the glow of two yellow, moonlike eyes in the trees.

   "Of course there's a wolf," I mutter, backing away until I'm cornered up against a wall of horse, "why not, I'll just..."

   Trying to keep an eye on the animal approaching me while I fumble blindly in the saddlebags for the knife, I'm shocked when the woman in Navarre's cloak appears behind it.

   "Don't worry," she glides towards me, "it's okay, no one is going to hurt you."

   I look at her like she's out of her mind as the wolf stalks the clearing in a circle, much like I was before, and she takes a seat next to the fire with a rabbit of her own.

   "I'm not butchering that for you," I tell her as she stokes the fire to get it burning hot again. 

   "I can do it," she smiles, and I know my face is red with embarrassment.

   Avoiding the wolf as I go, I tell her, "well, I'm going to give you a few minutes, then."

   I can feel her eyes on me as I leave the clearing and sit moodily on the leaf-covered floor.

   After planning on waiting for Navarre, the minutes turn into an hour before I decide to give up and return to the woman. 

   She's finishing her meal and feeding little bits to the wolf, and I try not to gag as I sit across from them.

   My mood is only getting worse as I think about Navarre, the hawk, the woman, the wolf, and the Bishop, and I think the damn brute can detect what I'm feeling, because it gets up and starts stalking around in a circle again. 

   When it passes behind me, I can hear it breathe, and the woman tracks it with her eyes before saying, "what have you been told?"

   "By who, Navarre? Absolutely nothing," I complain, "I think he knows about you, but I'm not allowed to know what he knows."

  The wolf makes another full circle and stops beside me, and I can't help but shake in fear.

   "I promise, he won't hurt you," she tries to be comforting, "he's a gentleman, I swear."

   I look to my left at the wolf, then ask, "him, or Navarre?"

   She laughs at this, the same way Navarre laughs at all of my silly little comments, and I wonder again where he is. 

   "Tell me your name," she says, and I answer.

   "It's Philomena."

   Suddenly rising to her feet, the woman crosses to me and sits down, and the wolf leaves to continue his patrol.

   "And yours?" I ask, but she shakes her head.

   I pout over this, but she only laughs, bright and earnest, like birdsong.

   "You will learn it soon," she tries to appease me, but I just scoff.

   "Like how Navarre will tell me after he 'figures things out'," I say sarcastically.

   "It's a long and terrible story, and I'll leave it to Etienne to decide when to tell it," she sighs beautifully, and it takes me a moment to remember that was Navarre's name. 

   I sigh too, though mine isn't as refined, and say, "he isn't going to."

   "He will, just give him time," she pleads with me, "he's going through a lot, you see, but he'll tell you."

   "I just don't see why I have to be involved at all," I scoff, still trying to wrap my head around this, "but I'll do it for you."

   Both of these people need to learn to tell when someone is lying! Okay, so maybe I'm being slightly more truthful to her than I am to Navarre, but she's nicer to me than he is.

   I'm startled by her sudden movement when she wraps the both of us in Navarre's cloak, pulling me to lean against her.

   Underneath, she's wearing trousers and a shirt that are way better fitting than mine, along with a leather belt and a dagger inside a matching sheath.

   "In the morning, ask Navarre for a knife you can carry," she tells me, "or better yet, ask to go someplace you can get new clothes."

   This close together, I can smell her, but she smells real, wild and unkempt, like she subsists on berries and meat; Navarre's cloak smells the same. 

   "This has something to do with the Bishop of Aquila, doesn't it?" I apparently made a lucky guess, because she flinches and looks down at me. 

    "Have you... met the Bishop?"

    "Not personally, but I did just escape from his dungeons a few days ago," I explain with a broad grin.

    She nods, and I can feel her hair against the side of my face, "no wonder."

    The woman must have reached some conclusion, but I don't have any idea what it could be. 

   I want to ask questions so badly, but I don't think she's going to divulge any more than she already has. 

   So I lean closer, and she hums a little tune that puts me to sleep in an instant. 

       ~*~*~*~

   In the morning, after Navarre and I have set out and rejoined the main road, I ask him, "hey, can we go somewhere I can get some clothes?"

   "You don't like your disguise?" He snickers.

   I turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, "it never actually worked?"

   "It doesn't work because you scream like a girl," he says, and I recall something he said the other night. 

   "The woman you know is way tougher than I am, isn't she?" I pout, twisting my back to look him in the eye, "despite being more graceful, more noble, she also isn't afraid of a little butchery to survive."

   His damned blue eyes are so sad, so piercing, that I want to look away, but I'm not backing down this time.

   Briefly, I wonder what he sees in my eyes, but I banish the thought and stare unblinking at him.

  "You saw her again, mouse?" He finally asks, almost breathless. 

  "Yes, but that's not the point," I snap, turning away in aggravation, "she's beautiful, and kind, and... I'm not jealous, I tell you! Just... it was her idea that I should have new clothes."

   I feel the movement of Navarre nodding, and I can't keep my mouth shut, "so you do know her! After that night at the farmers', you acted like you had no clue!"

   "Mouse..." he says in a warning tone, but I'm not in the mood to care.

   "She definitely knows you! I'm sure she thought I thought she was referring to the wolf, but I know better-"

   Suddenly, his arms are a lot tighter around me, and not in a comforting way.

   "No you don't, mouse," he growls, "you truly, truly don't."

   Something in his voice gets me to back off, and I'm too afraid to look as I murmur, "I'm sorry...", even though I'm not sure exactly what I did wrong. 

   Okay, yeah, I was mad at him, but this being left in the dark was killing me! 

   But I feel him relax and he rubs his gloved hands where he squeezed my arms, "I'm sorry, too. I know not knowing must be getting to you..."

  "It's okay," I kind of lie, "it's just that I've never been a patient person."

   "Neither have I," he chuckles, and I feel a lot better, "I'll tell you tonight."

   I'm sure my eyes are sparkling as I turn to him again, "you will?! Oooh, exciting!"

   We ride on in silence until we find the next town, and have a spirited discussion about whether we're stealing or paying for the clothes.

Chapter Text

   That evening, after Navarre leaves to hunt game and I change into clothes very similar to what I was wearing, but way better fitting, I sit down to stoke the campfire and wait for his return. 

   "Excellent work, mouse," I hear him as he enters the clearing with two medium sized fish.

   "Oh good! Something other than rabbit," I groan, dreading the concept of having to eat around bone and organs.

   Grabbing the sticks set aside for cooking meat on, he sits, and I try not to focus my eyes on anything as he cleans off the fins and scales with a knife. 

  "You aren't satisfied with anything, are you?" He asks as he works.

   Groaning again, I answer, "I'm not used to being so long on the road," which is mostly part of the way true.

   "How were you getting on in Aquila?" He looks up at me, seemingly genuinely concerned until he adds, "besides the pickpocketing?"

   "Everything I took went back to purchasing food of some kind," I respond, my hackles raised, "so that poor farmers and others could earn their coin. Understand?"

  "Very fair of you," Navarre sighs, and I'm not sure what to make of it.

   I don't say anything more, but I'm surprised to see that he has managed to get several large hunks of fish meat onto the skewers. They now sizzle over the fire, edges becoming crispy. 

   The hawk is by his side, eating discarded bits of fish, and I almost ask him if it's okay for her to eat them, when he opens his mouth first. 

  "I have waited almost two years on a sign from God," he begins, and I quickly grab a stick and start eating, not liking how this is going. 

   "And when I heard the warning bells of Aquila, I knew the moment of my destiny had come," he continues as I finish the fish, realizing my mistake when I end up nauseous anyway, "you will be my guiding angel."

  "Guiding to what?" I ask stupidly, even though I have a feeling of what he's going to say. 

   "You will get me into Aquila, so I may kill the Bishop."

    He's looking at me in all honesty, probably the most open and free he's been since we've met, and I'm sitting there trying not to hurl.

   "Me?" I ask stupidly again, as though I'm trying to convince him I'm too dumb for the job.

   Navarre just nods, with a curl to his lips and a quirk to his brows that makes it stand out just how handsome he is.

   In an effort to put that thought out of my mind, I babble, "sir, the truth is, I talk to God all the time, and no offense, but he never mentioned you."

   "This has to be done," he urges, "you've seen the people there, you've heard-"

    "You can make an appeal for heroism all you want," I boldly cut him off, "I'm sorry, but I just won't do it! Not without reason, and you won't even tell me that!"

   He looks down at the fish, now fully cooked, and takes a skewer. 

    The hawk, having finished the entrails, is eyeing him like a hound at the table, and he gives a bit of crisp skin to her.

   "I can't tell you," he says finally, not meeting my eyes.

   "Why not?" I ask, still not impressed. 

   He lapses into silence again, and I don't argue. 

   But the quiet dragging on makes me nervous, and I eventually have to ask, "you won't tell me, even if you think your cause is noble and deserving of help?"

  He shakes his head wearily and mumbles, "I'm sorry, it isn't up to me."

   Remembering my conversation last night, I say truthfully, "the woman said it was."

   He finally looks back at me, and I see the ever-growing traces of sadness on his face, "how can I be sure you're being honest with me?"

   This really aggravates me, and I answer, "fine, don't trust me, but in that case, I am not going back to Aquila!"

   I lay in the dirt with my back to him, thinking this conversation final when I try to fall asleep, my mind running over what was said until I can't take anymore.

           ~*~*~*~

   I wake up in the night to find myself sitting straight up, my hands tied together behind a tall and solid tree.

   "Damn him! Of all the nasty things to do!" I look around frantically, trying to spot Navarre or Goliath or the hawk, but they seem to have gone somewhere, leaving me all alone.

   "That dirty, rotten-" I'm about to start yelling when I hear rustling through the leafy forest floor. 

    It's the woman, to my right and headed forward, chasing after a rabbit and doing rather miserably. 

    The one she had yesterday must have been caught by the wolf, I guess. 

     Desperately, I start hissing to get her attention, "psst, hey! Hey, over here!"

     She turns and gasps, crawling over to me on all fours, "what happened?"

    Realizing that she probably won't stand a bad word about Navarre, I have to make up something quick.

    "The Bishops men found me, then left to find their captain, probably to execute me like he tried last time I saw him!" It doesn't take much effort to look like I'm afraid for my life, "I made myself too much of a burden to carry, so they tied me up!"

   Her face is filled with concern as she moves around the tree to untie me, saying, "how did you survive them the last time?"

   "Oh, Navarre saved me," which is the truth, "but he keeps disappearing at the worst times! He seems to go somewhere at night..."

   I feel my arms go loose and pull myself forward, rubbing my wrists as I stand.

  The woman steps around the tree to look at me, but before she can say anything, I tell her, "you should run as far away from here as possible, okay?"

   "But what about you and Navarre?" She asks.

   We're standing on level ground, and I remember how much taller she is than me when I look up and plead with her, "please, you have to get out of here."

   She looks around restlessly before nodding and running in the opposite direction, and I don't watch her for long before I take off, myself.

Chapter Text

   After hours of running, I find myself on the coast at sunrise, heart beating as the waves break over the sand.

   All at once, the universe is in a beautiful dance, as some poet would say, but I'm no poet; instead I just feel my heart race as misery surrounds me. 

   I'm so dejected and heartbroken that I don't notice the sounds of other people stepping through the sandy shores until someone grabs my neck. 

  I shriek indignantly, but a sword pointed in my face gets me to stop 

  "Where did they go, girl?" Its owner growls, leering at me like a cat at a fish.

  "Uh, they who?" I act like I have no clue, but he just gets more angry. 

  "Are you a simpleton, girl?! Navarre, and the hawk! Where are they?!"

  His spittle flies in my face, and I try not to sound infuriated when I say, "north, they're headed north."

   "South it is then!" Another man calls, and the soldiers cheer, when their leader screws up his face in concentration.

   "No, she would want us to think that," he decides, and I can't help but curse him under my breath, "tie her hands and mouth, then put her in the cart! We'll see what Navarre thinks of us pickin' up his new girl!"

   I have my mouth open to complain when someone sticks a disgusting old gag in it, tying it around the back of my head at the same time someone else catches my flailing arms, binding them with rope and tossing me into the supply cart.

   I sit up so I can at least see where we're going, and the soldiers point and laugh at my predicament.

            ~*~*~*~

   It's after midday when the soldiers stop and set up an ambush point, the men, cart, and the carts single horse hidden behind bushes.

   I'm still in the cart, desperately trying to loosen any of my bonds.

   They're waiting for Navarre and Goliath, and according to the whispers between them, they have orders to capture the hawk safely, and to kill the wolf if it appears.

   The men are armed with swords and crossbows, and brandish them with glee.

  But none of them are keeping an eye on me, so they don't notice when my wriggling manages to loose the gag from my mouth. 

   I don't spit it out just yet; I need to wait for the exact moment for it to be perfect. 

  So I quietly climb the boxes in the supply cart, where I can see the forest across from the bushes we're hiding behind.

   It doesn't take long for me to see Navarre as he exits the woods and follows the road in our direction.

   Spitting the wad of cloth into the cart, I stand up on the boxes as well as I can without falling, take a deep breath, and shout, "Navarre!! AMBUSH!!"

  Then I throw myself backwards off the cart, hitting the ground hard.

           ~*~*~*~

   I must have blacked out, because when I come to, I hear screaming, shouting, and the screech of the hawk.

   Picking myself up on wobbly feet and weak knees, I duck around the cart and see that Navarre is fighting. 

   He has drawn that incredible great sword and isn't afraid to slash and impale with it, man and weapon alike covered in blood. 

   Soldiers have fallen everywhere, some with limbs missing, and I have to resist gagging at the sight of some of the things he's done. 

    I'm edging closer to the fray when it's dwindled down to four of the twenty that were here, but when one of the men discards his blade and picks up a fallen comrades crossbow, I shout, "Navarre! Behind you!"

   He turns towards the assailant, but his target isn't Navarre.

   The whistle of the bolt sears the wind, and Navarre and I both turn to follow it upwards, and my stomach drops as I hear the pained scream of its victim.

   I hear a heartbreaking, earthshattering voice shout, "NO!", and then another bolt being fired.

   Turning in time to see it strike Navarre in the ribs, I feel my world falling out from under me as he waves for me to get to the hawk.

   I want to argue, but he looks at me with the face of a desperate man, covered in blood, clutching his side as he fights the last few soldiers, and I do as he bids.

   Stopping to use a fallen sword to cut the ropes at my wrists, I pick up the poor, wounded creature and hide behind a rock, listening as metal clashes against metal and men scream in hellish pain.

   The hawk is bleeding from the bolt in her chest, but I know I can't take it out, so I take off my new jerkin to cradle her in.

   Eventually, the noises die down, and I'm too afraid to look and see who was victorious, until I hear a raspy voice call, "Philomena."

   Peeking my head out from over the rock, I see Navarre is the last one standing, but just barely. 

   He's headed my way with Goliath in tow, and I want to tell him he shouldn't be moving so much, but he doesn't seem to be in the mood to be argued with. 

  The bolt in his side is still there, too, but I don't know how to help him, either.

   "Navarre," I say lowly, trying not to cry, "what are you going to do?"

   I'm aware that I sound timid and childish, but I'm still rattled by the ordeal. 

   "You," he begins, rough and impatient, "are going to take her to an old castle ruin, north of here. The monk there, Imperius, will know what to do."

   I look at him tiredly, using the last of my spirit to ask, "why me?"

   "You're the only one not injured here," he seethes a little, but I can't resist cracking.

   "Actually, I hit my head pretty hard when I fell from the cart-"

  "Mouse, get on my horse, now," he says so seriously I think he might be snarling, and I look away from him at the animal in my arms.

   Sighing, I tell him, "okay, but I'm doing it for her."

   He nods and, though it causes him a great deal of pain, helps me up onto Goliath's back.

   "You'll be right behind us, right?" I ask, feeling sick at my own weakness, "say you will?"

   "I'll be there, Philomena," he winces as he nods.

   I nod back, then he gives Goliath a nudge to get the horse going, and I don't look back, knowing I will have to cry if I do.

Chapter Text

  Goliath gallops at top speed without any instruction from me, thoughts thundering in my head like a summer storm, and I quickly lose track of time. 

   "Oh God please let me be in time, please let me save her, she has to live, she has to-" I'm babbling in the air as we ride, my little charge croaking in pain.

   Then another worry pops into my head, "I should have stayed, God I should have stayed with him, done something, if he doesn't make it-"

   With a sharp cry of frustration, I recall something the soldier said when they found me, "what does he mean, 'Navarre's new girl'?! That idiot!"

   By the time I see the ruined castle, the sun was beginning to set, so I pull Goliath's reigns until he stops, then shakily drop off the horse.

  Holding my charge carefully, I pull myself up the slope to the guardhouse, then furiously bang on the door.

   "Hello!? Please, we need help out here! Please open the door, please please-"

   The door opens, and a surly old man in disgraceful friar's robes looks at me with bleary eyes.

   "What do ye want, lass?" He slurs, giving me the feeling he might be a little too big a fan of wine.

   I hold out the hawk, wrapped in my jerkin, and beg him, "please, she's hurt, and Navarre said to come here, and he's hurt too, and-"

   "Slow down, girl!" He snaps, before saying a lot more quietly, "wait, did you say Navarre? And this is..."

   "The hawk, yes, please help her!" I start getting impatient when he swings the door wide and waves me in.

   "Come on then, lass, no time to waste lollygaggin'," so I follow him through the guardhouse.

   On the other side, we cross a bridge over a moat, and he tells me to, "stay to the left, girly."

   I do as I'm told, and eventually we reach the big main door to the castle.

   Here we stop, and he turns to me and takes the bird in his arms, as gently and reverently as I had been doing.

   "You stay right out here, okay lass? I have to go gather some herbs, but I shouldn't take long," and he disappears inside for a few minutes before coming back out with a basket, locking the door behind him.

   I consider doing as he says for a moment, but as the sun sets, I'm overwhelmed with curiosity, and I make sure he's down the slope from the guardhouse before picking the lock.

   At first, the darkness is impenetrable, but as my eyes adjust to the gloom, I see light from a window, and follow that.

   Winding around disused furniture and low stone walls, I finally find the little nook the last of the sunlight is blazing into. 

   In the heavily canopied bed there lay the woman from the woods, sad and forlorn with the crossbow bolt sticking out below her shoulder. 

   She turns her head to me, and her eyes flash with recognition. 

   My mouth runs dry, and I stare, eyes wide in realization, at the woman in the bed.

   The hawk. 

   No longer panicking quite as much, I feel like I'm getting dizzy from where I hit my head throwing myself off the cart, and all I can think to say is, "are you flesh? Or are you spirit?"

   "I am sorrow," she answered, and I can tell she isn't kidding, she would never kid about this.

    Our Lady of Sorrows.

    No, of course not.

    Navarre's Lady of Sorrows. 

    A tap at my shoulder lets me know I've been caught, but the monk just hands me a water skin and says, "that's a nasty blow to the head you've got. Take this, clean yourself up and keep an eye out for Navarre. I'll dress the wound when I'm done with her."

   And I'm shooed out of the room, listening as the castle door is shut behind me, and my heart sinks like a stone as night finally falls. 

     ~*~*~*~ 

     He's right about the back of my head; I pour water from the skin over it and it runs bloody, ruining my already tattered and muddy new clothes. 

   "Damnit," I mutter, keeping an eye on the horizon for Navarre. 

   I undo my hair from its braid and leave it loose so it doesn't tug on my injury, then sit down and sulk.

   I'm almost dozing before I hear a scream behind me that must be Imperius removing the bolt, and I jump up to see if I can help before I realize it might be a bad time. 

   Sitting back in the rocky dirt, I try to keep my eyes open for as long as possible, but as the night goes on, I begin to feel my exhaustion. 

   I don't know how long I'm out for when I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I yawn as the monk says, "come on, girl, let's get yer head looked at."

   I pull myself up, still drowsy, and follow him into the castle. 

   Briefly thinking that I'm tired of following people around, I sit in a low stool while he pours two cups of wine and hands one to me, urging me to drink.

   "I don't think I trust you with my head after you've been drinking," I tell him. 

   "Nonsense," is his only response. 

    So I drink mine anyway, and it does a lot to numb the pain, and I can't even feel whatever it is he's doing to the back of my head. 

    It takes several minutes, but eventually he announces, "all done, all done," and I get up to sit on the long bench by the fire pit while he scrounges up enough to feed three.

   The smell of soup cooking makes my mouth water, and he pours me more wine while we wait.

  I can tell he's getting curious, just as I would be, so I come right out and say, "we were ambushed. Navarre is gravely injured, but the hawk was his priority."

   "She would be," he says, "even though you had a terrible wound, yerself."

  I focus on not tearing up as I say, almost completely truthfully, "I didn't mind. She is special, after all."

    "How much has he told you?"

    I think about last night, before we fought over it, and answer, "only that he plans to murder the Bishop of Aquila."

    Imperius doesn't look surprised at all, and he gets up to check the soup and spoon some into a bowl he hands to me.

   "What's her name?" I ask as he returns to the soup pot to fill another bowl. 

   He walks towards the nook, probably to check the woman and get her to eat, and whispers as he passes by, "she is Isabeau d'Anjou," and I don't have time to say anything else before he walks away.

   I eat my soup and drink my wine, and after a few minutes, Imperius returns without the bowl, and shuffles over to a trunk, opening it and taking some things out before returning to me.

   "Have another bowl, if ye like, then go and change into these," he hands me the bundle then points to a door that leads deeper into the castle, "can't be wanderin' around in mud and blood, it's bad for yer health."

   Eyeing him carefully, I decide I can trust him, and I finish my first bowl and get up for another as he begins talking. 

   "Isabeau came to Aquila to stay with a cousin, after disaster struck her family," he speaks in a low voice, "it didn't take long for her to fall for Etienne of Navarre, and he for her."

   I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, the feeling making me dizzy again. 

   "But the Bishop became obsessed with her, and if he couldn't have her, no man could," he took a deep drink of wine and kept going. 

   "The two lovers had taken secret vows of marriage, and planned on escaping Aquila," he was turning redder and redder as he spoke, "but they told their confessor, and after a night of drunken revelry, he told the Bishop all that he knew."

   My heart sunk like a stone and the pit of my stomach felt like acid boiling, but I could only mutter, "that's terrible. That's so-"

   "Ach, I know yer judgin' me, lass," he shakes his head and then bows it in shame, "ye could probably tell from me drinkin' here."

   "You're clearly remorseful," I say quietly, but he shakes his head again.

   "The Bishop, he was terribly angry, and he lost his mind," Imperius continues, "he made a pact with the devil, he did, and him a holy man."

   I scoff and say, "from my little time in Aquila, I have doubts about that."

   "This is no time for jokin', girl!" He says as seriously as he can muster when he's already had so much wine, "his pact was made to place a curse on the pair of them, so that Isabeau would be a hawk by day and a woman by night, and Navarre a man by day and a wolf by night."

    My eyes widened, everything I knew suddenly coming into place, my world rearranged by this crucial information.

   Navarre, the piece of women's clothing in his bag, and the reverent care and attention given to the beautiful hawk. 

   Isabeau, wearing his cloak at any opportunity, the courage of her traveling alone with a terrible black wolf.

   The intensity in both their eyes, the stubbornness, the willingness to do anything to survive. 

   The sacrifices they make for each other, the horror they have both been through. 

   I am nothing compared to them, I can feel it, and I know I'm going to dread the answer, but I have to ask, "how long has it been?"

  Nodding knowingly, the monk responds, "coming up on two years, now."

   This is the last miserable straw, and I can't hold it back, my body wracked with sobs as I finally let the tears fall.

  I had been feeling it for days now, but with this, I am broken, I am beaten, and I am damned. 

   Sighing sympathetically, he gets up and pats my shoulder, "if you'd like to sleep, I can show you a room."

   "Yes, please," I answer, too distraught for jokes or little comments, and pick up the bundle he had given me as I follow him through the door indicated earlier.

Chapter Text

   I don't know how long I actually get to sleep for when I'm suddenly shaken awake by a voice calling me, "Mina! Mina!"

  I roll over on the incredibly comfortable straw pallet and grumble, "oh God, please let me rest."

  "More of the Bishops soldiers are at the castle guardhouse," the voice whispers urgently, and I turn over to open my eyes.

   It's Isabeau, wearing a white dress of thick material, and I blink in confusion before asking, "Mina?"

  She looks at me curiously and says, "do you not like it?"

  "It's... fine," I say, my face pink, "uh, give me a minute."

   She politely stands back as I roll from the bed and pull myself up, stretching my limbs to work out the kinks.

   "Let's go steal something from the kitchen," I laugh, but she just stares at me.

   "There's bread laying out if you want something," she says, and I know the pink on my face deepens, "we should hurry while Imperius distracts the Bishops men."

   "Sorry, I'm just not used to food being offered to me," I explain truthfully, and she takes my hand sympathetically and leads me from the room.

   So we creep down to the main room, where a fresh-baked, if slightly herby-looking loaf of bread, is waiting for us.

 Munching on hunks of bread as we go back upstairs, for some reason I ask her, "do you remember what happens when you're a hawk?"

  Isabeau looks deep in thought, and I think she won't answer until she says, "no, and I don't think Navarre does when he turns, either."

  "I'd be terrified if I were him," I blurt out unthinking, "he's pretty bad as a wolf."

   She apparently knew what I meant, but argued anyway, "oh, but he means well, even if he is... rough. But he's very charming, when you get to know him."

   "I don't doubt it," I add, doubting it a lot, actually, "that mans love for you has driven him to great feats, after all."

   "It has," she says, and I can't help but embellish a bit.

   "He did say to me, 'please save her. She is my best, my only, reason for living', when he set me on Goliath to bring you here."

   I can't tell if she believes me or not, and silence washes over us as I take the lead, sneaking down halls and peeking around corners, just in case the soldiers made it past Imperius. 

   This turns out to be a good assumption, because the place was soon crawling with guards, and before we knew it, we were trapped. 

   "Ugh, if Navarre survived, he's going to kick my ass," I complain, and Isabeau opens her mouth to argue when a shout behind us makes us both scream.

   "Navarre's not comin', girls," the man behind us growls wickedly, "we've orders to take ya both alive. Bishop still wants 'is Isabeau, and he says now the mousey one is intriguin' 'im, too."

   Clutching hands tighter, we launch into a run, shooting each other terrified looks as the shouting of the man who found us alerts the others.

    A series of sharp clangs tells us Imperius is fighting back with a frying pan, and we duck through side chambers and balconies trying to find a way out. 

   Breathing heavily and slowly losing focus the emptier my lungs are, I round a corner into another room, and whisper, "oops."

   "Oops?" Isabeau repeats and looks around to see that the circular room we're in has no other exits except a ladder to the roof. 

   "Quick, the ladder!" I hiss, "you go, I'll be right up!"

   The soldier from earlier enters the room, sword drawn, leering at me as I wait for Isabeau to get to the top before following her up.

   I apparently take him by surprise with my speed, climbing up the ladder and knocking it over behind me.

   Looking around, we're on the top of a low tower to the left of the bridge, and I can tell from the wreckage that one of the men didn't keep to the left as he crossed.

   The sky is getting lighter, and I look at Isabeau in fear and curiosity, but she doesn't notice, busy searching for a way down. 

   But there isn't one, and she looks at me like I have all the answers. 

   For some reason, this infuriates me, and I shout at her, "you aren't helpless, Isabeau!"

   I don't know what came over me, but I'm clenching my teeth in a rage when she shouts back, "neither are you!"

   I'm struck by the ridiculousness of having this argument in this situation when the ladder suddenly returns and the soldier starts climbing up. 

   "Ya have no where to go, ladies, so come quietly, now," he grins as he stalks closer, and we back up to the edge.

   I chance a brief glance down, the edge of the tower rimmed with carved gargoyle heads, and seeing how high we are over the rocky slopes below makes me sweat even harder than I already was.

   Feeling it down my face and back, it makes me realize how gross I am next to only slightly red-faced Isabeau. 

   As the man inches forward, a sudden howling animal, mournful and plaintive, makes Isabeau back up a bit too much, and a bunch of things happen all at once. 

   Isabeau pulls me down with her, but I manage to catch the edge at the same time the soldier thinks he can lunge at us, expecting us to be distracted by the sound but not anticipating Isabeau's fall.

   His force sends him careening over the edge, and I watch as he screams all the way down, stopping when he hits the rocks below. 

   Isabeau is screaming, too, and I feel her slipping from my hand as I reach the other one down to her, laying flat on my stomach on top of the tower.

   "Mina, Mina, please," she begs, and for the first time, I see genuine fear on her face. 

   Or maybe she had been genuinely afraid this whole time, and I just didn't want to see it.

   I ignore the thought and try to stretch as far as I can, but her hands are as sweaty as mine after all, and the fact that I'm crying doesn't help.

   "Isabeau, I'm so sorry..." I breathe at last as our hands finally slip, and her horrified scream fills the air as she falls. 

   I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable impact, but it never happens, as suddenly the screams of a woman turn into the screeching of a hawk.

   Opening my eyes, the sun over the horizon makes me weep with joy, as the lovely brown hawk rises with it, following in its path.

   But I don't have time to celebrate; I hear someone else coming up from the tower room, so I slowly shuffle out onto one of the gargoyles, hoping it'll hold my weight and keep me out of sight. 

   I know whoever climbed up here is one of the Bishops men, because he complains loudly, "I coulda swore I saw 'em up here, damnit! What a lot of hassle for a simpering noble and a little nit!"

   I have to resist climbing up to argue when I hear yet another person entering the tower room and climbing the ladder.

   Expecting another soldier, I'm surprised when the first man shouts, "why, you!", and after a brief scuffle, gets shoved from the tower, landing feet away from his comrade. 

   I cringe when I hear the crashing and crunching of his landing, in danger of falling off myself, when a big hand grabs the back of my tunic and lifts me up into the air.

   Covering my eyes with my hands, I start babbling, "Oh God please don't throw me I'm not worth it to kill I swear I haven't done anything please don't-"

   "Philomena," a familiar voice chuckles, "it's me, you're alright."

   I spread my fingers to take a peek, and my feet touch the roof of the tower as Navarre sets me down gently. 

   For a moment, I think I'm going to die of embarrassment, until my mind catches up with the sight of the man in front of me.

   "Oh good, hi, uh..." I stammer, then lose all sense of shame as I wrap my arms around him tightly, "don't mind me, please, just-"

   "I missed you too, mouse," he sighs and returns my hug, but I'm too afraid to look anywhere else besides the black-clad expanse of his chest, "now, come back down with me. I'm afraid there are a few more men to take care of."

   "I'm not going down until they're all gone," I whine, aware of how childish I'm being. 

   "Then you'll be all alone," he laughs before shifting to a more serious tone, "and I'm afraid we can't have that again, can we?"

   I sniffle and gasp through falling tears, nodding as I say, "you go down first."

I look up to see him nod, noticing how haggard he looks, and he says, "and when we're done, you can tell me everything that has happened here," as he detaches from my hug to go down the ladder.

   Getting the feeling I know what he wants, I tell him, "Isabeau is safe! She flew away with the sunrise, fit as ever."

   He looks back up at me, "you have my eternal gratitude, Philomena, but don't act like that's everything."

   I scurry down the ladder as he holds it for me, and I ask, "what else could you want to know?"

   He holds a finger to his lips to shush me before whispering, "I could want to hear about you, don't you think?"

   He forces that to be the end of the discussion, leaving the room, and I follow him as he stalks the last few soldiers with the fervor of a man possessed. 

Chapter Text

   It hardly takes an hour for Navarre to dispatch the remaining men, and when he's done, we sit out on a balcony to catch our breath.

   I don't even realize what I'm doing when I lean against his side and he winces in pain.

   "Oops, sorry!" I straighten up, but he pulls me back slowly, positioning me where I don't agitate his wounds. 

   "Don't you want Imperius to look at you?" I ask innocently. 

   "It can wait a few minutes," he says, "for now, tell me what happened after the ambush."

    Feeling terrible at being reminded, my mind wanders, "I'm sorry about that, I really am! They thought they could use me to hurt you, no idea why, and they had orders not to hurt her, I don't know what that idiot was-"

   "Mouse, it would have been worse if you didn't warn me, and you even hurt yourself doing so," he interrupts me, lifting a hand to gingerly touch where my head was still bandaged, "I'm sorry, for being so rough with you then."

   "I understand, after all..." I hesitate, "I've been officially introduced to Isabeau."

   "And you were told the whole story?"

   "As much of it that Imperius could relay while drunk on wine," I smile weakly. 

   He nods, knowing the monk well, and I inch closer while trying not to hurt him.

   "Seriously though, let him patch that up," suddenly overcome with a sense of urgency, "you might not have long before it starts to become a problem."

   "It's okay, Philomena, just wait," Navarre laughs, but he sounds breathless.

   "I'm not carrying you if you pass out," I'm getting frustrated, but I turn my head at the sound of bird call, and the hawk swoops in onto the balcony.

   She lands on Navarre's lap and makes little peeping noises, clearly very happy to see him.

   "Hello, Ladyhawke!" I greet her, and Navarre laughs again, louder and more honest. 

   "Ladyhawke?" He asks curiously, "you've named her?"

    I shrug, "she has a name, I know, but while the Bishop is having us hunted, maybe we could call her that?"

    "And what do I call you?" He grins slyly. 

    Remembering this morning, I tell him, "Isabeau called me Mina."

   "Ha, it's too cute for you, mouse," he says with a cheeky smile as he moves Ladyhawke to his fist and staggers to his feet.

   I follow him up, walking behind him as we head down to the main room to get our injuries checked out, and he asks me to tell the whole story on our way down.

                 ~*~*~*~

    "Ah, I see," he says, seated at the bench before the fire pit, "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

   "Eh, we took care of it, didn't we, Ladyhawke?" I wink at the bird like we share a secret, but she chirps and nuzzles Navarre's cheek with her beak.

   "You too, monk!" I cheer while Imperius freshly bandages my head.

   "I did what I could, so I did," he smiles back, and I laugh awkwardly.

   I can't decipher the look Navarre gives me as he says, "you seem cheerful."

    "I got you to let yourself get stitched up, of course I'm cheerful," I give him a little attitude, and he accepts it gracefully.

   Imperius finishes my head and says, "don't remove it until sundown tonight."

   I nod, sipping a little wine from a mug and looking back at Navarre, who still looks rather unsteady, but not as bad as he had before.

   I don't notice that Imperius has walked away to give us space, and the silence is getting very uncomfortable after Navarre's friendly behavior on the balcony, and I'm afraid it's something I did wrong, so I let my eyes drift away until I think of what to say.

   I spot his great sword leaning against a wall, and ask him, "you plan on killing the Bishop with this thing?"

   "That 'thing' is a family heirloom, passed down through several generations," he follows my gaze to the sword.

   "I don't doubt it's a very impressive blade, but how are you going to get into Aquila with it?"

   He turn back to me, "I was hoping you would have some kind of idea."

   "Look, if..." I hesitate, and he raises an eyebrow, "if I help, and something happens to you, I'd feel responsible for it."

   "Anything that goes wrong would be my fault and mine alone," he says with complete conviction, "even if you're the one something happens to."

   I sigh, covering my face with my palms, and change the subject, "is Goliath okay? I don't remember where I left him."

   "He's fine, fine," he chuckles, "I told you he's the finest horse a man could want."

   Nodding fondly, I realize the wine isn't doing much but making me want to cry, and I set it on the bench before getting up and sitting next to Navarre, on his less injured side.

   Angling myself to whisper close to his ear, the hawk moves away from us onto a hook on the wall, and I say seriously, "you can't be trying to take all the responsibility."

   "If something were to happen, to you or to Isabeau, then I would be a broken man."

   "You're including me in that statement?"

    He sighs, shaking his head slightly and answering, "yes, Philomena, I am."

   I don't want to think about what he's implying, and squeeze into a ball, my arms and knees hiding my head from view.

   Then I feel fingers softly brushing the hair from the bandage on the back of my head, and the sensation makes me want to cry deliriously. 

    "If I help, I want partial responsibility," I groan from my fetal position. 

   "Do you? Are you sure?"

   "No, but I can't let you destroy yourself for this, either," I hiccup as I peek out from behind my arms and see him smiling.

   "I appreciate the sentiment, I really do," he brushes hair out of my face and stands up, gathering his things.

    Realizing I have nothing, I offer to carry whatever he needs as we prepare to set out.

Chapter Text

   Navarre and I have packed up Goliath's saddlebags and are about to leave when Imperius comes out of the guardhouse and calls out to us.

  "Wait! Wait, I say!" He yells, "I have had a vision from God!"

   I meet eyes with Navarre before he looks at the monk skeptically, "found him at the bottom of your wine bottle, huh?"

   "No, this one is true, I swear!" He pleads with Navarre despairingly, "there is a way for you to break the curse."

   This just makes Navarre look mad, and I turn my gaze back-and-forth between them, hoping to stop them fighting. 

   "Three days from now, on a day without night and a night without day," he continues in a conspiratorial voice, "the two of you must be seen together by the Bishop, in the flesh."

   "This is another one of your drunken ramblings, isn't it?" Navarre sneers, and I put a hand on his arm to calm him down.

   He glances at me and says, "he did always like his wine too much."

   Imperius looks as awful as I feel, and I wave sadly at him as Navarre mounts his horse and pulls me up in front of him.

            ~*~*~*~

   I manage to catch up a few hours of sleep as we ride, though when I wake as Navarre stops us for a meal, I notice him looking at me oddly. 

   "What? Something on my face?" I ask, bleary-eyed. 

    He shakes his head and says, "you were strangely well-behaved as we were leaving. And I've been meaning to ask you... how do you sleep so soundly on a moving horse?"

   Feeling my face flush, I answer, "I was thinking about what Imperius said, but I didn't want to agree with him and cause an argument."

   He runs a hand over his face, mumbling something about being beset on all sides, but I ignore it and answer his question, "as for sleeping, when you live on the streets, you learn to sleep anywhere, any chance you have."

  His face is morose, and I wonder what he's thinking, when he stands and says, "I'm going to hunt game. Up for trying a little butchery again?"

   "Absolutely not!" I whine, flinching away from his grin, "no chance!"

   He laughs his way out of the clearing, and I start the search for firewood. 

    A few minutes later, he returns with a rather fat rabbit, and I manage to get the fire high enough for him to cook before leaving the clearing while he prepares it.

   Wandering around, I hear the beating of wings and hold my arm out for Ladyhawke to land.

   "Oh, hello!" I greet her enthusiastically, "let's go see what Navarre has for us."

   Returning to the clearing, I present my charge to him, "got anything for your esteemed lady friend?"

   "Hello, lady," he says as she flutters over to him, and I sit and watch the meat cook as he feeds her what discarded bits he can.

  "I'm glad she doesn't remember what she does as a hawk," I say plainly, and he sighs with relief as the hawk flies up to rest on a branch. 

   "I had wondered about that," he admits freely, "I don't remember my actions as a wolf, so I was curious."

   I think back to the first night I saw the wolf, and my eyes fill with tears.

   "Isabeau guessed as much when I asked her, but... you really don't know?"

   Navarre hangs his head, looking down at his leather-gloved hands, and sighs, "I'm sorry, mouse, if I scared you that night, or any night."

   I think about Isabeau, and the gigantic black wolf, and get up to join him on his side of the fire.

   I don't say anything immediately, just sitting and waiting, looking at his shaggy blond hair and wide shoulders, and I do for him what he did this morning, lightly brushing his hair with my fingers.

  He tilts his head to look at me, and I'm reminded of a domesticated dog. 

   "Yes, you frightened me that first night, but after that," I begin in what I hope is a soothing voice, "you protected me as well as you do Isabeau."

   "Not well, then," he says miserably.

   "That isn't true," I tell him, with absolute honesty, "in fact, before the men arrived, she asked me to pass something along to you."

   Okay, that was a total lie, but if I want to bolster his spirits, I have to do something, right?

So before I can talk myself out of it, I tug him down by the front of his shirt and kiss him on the left cheek, holding it for a moment before letting go. 

  I'm screaming at myself to get up, get up, get up, when he takes my cheek in his gloved hand and kisses me on the opposite side, holding it for a shorter but no less sweet amount of time.

   "Will you send this one back to her, Philomena?" He asks softly, but my head is spinning and my heart beating like a wild horse someone needs to break.

   "Oh, yeah, I can," I say stupidly, thinking he only calls me by name if he wants something, "yes, definitely."

   His eyes bright with great humor of some secret kind, he says, "you better eat."

   So we take a stick of meat each and munch them, still sitting closely together, and as the midday sun reaches its peak I wonder how long this idle moment will last. 

Chapter Text

   At sunset, some strange shyness overcomes Navarre, and he insists that I can't see his transformation from man to wolf. 

  Normally I would have agreed, but the sheepish way he suggested it made me a little angry.

   But I did as he asked anyway, so I'm currently waiting for Isabeau to appear on the outskirts of a little town where I've stolen new clothes for her; a shirt, trousers, and boots, and belt with sheath for a dagger.

   When I finally see her, it has gotten dark out, and before I can say sorry about the tower, she wraps me in a tight hug.

   "Mina! You made it out safely! What happened after sunrise?"

   She's smiling brightly, like she doesn't mind at all that I lost my grip, so I choose to skip over that part.

   "The wolf howl was Navarre! He arrived to take out the rest of the men," I explain, and she looks so happy I could cry, "then we let Imperius patch us up before setting out."

   "So, what are we doing now?"

   I point behind me at the stable I was leaning against, where we've hidden Goliath, "uh, let's get you changed first?"

   Handing her the bundle of clothes, I walk around to the front of the stable, and she follows. 

   Once inside, I stand near the door and she heads farther in to undress in private, even though I can't help but glance over a few times.

   I mean, we're both women, so it's fine, I think? 

   We're both skinny, though on her, it's very elegant and graceful, like a dancer, while I'm only good for narrow passages and swift exits.

   Her breasts are high and perky, and mine are barely a handful. 

   Despite the short cut, her hair is soft and floats angelicly, and my shoulder-length locks are mouse brown and filthy. 

   Her ocean blue eyes are- wait, hold on! I'm not comparing us out of jealousy, I swear! I'm absolutely not jealous! 

   But I am curious now, as I have no clue what color my eyes even are.

   Isabeau steps forward, fully dressed, and I realize I might have stared a bit too long, so I distract her, "Isabeau? What color are my eyes?"

   She looks at me with complete bafflement at first before walking over to me and taking me by the shoulders. 

   From here, I notice that I was wrong in the forest, about her being a lot taller than me; with the both of us well-rested and standing up straight, she has two or three inches on me, at best.

   We look each other in the eyes, and I can see, hear, even feel her breathing as she says, "your eyes are the warm brown of an autumn wood, the lovely walk between majestic trees."

   "You're embellishing a bit," I whisper, knowing I have to be turning red.

   She laughs, and rather unladylike, too, "can't beat our favorite embellisher at her own game, I see?"

   "Hey! I- I mostly tell the truth, especially to you," I stammer.

   Isabeau grins, and I swallow a lump in my throat, "then tell me, is Navarre okay? Does he seem alright to you?"

   "Oh, he's deep in his emotions, you know how men are," I lean closer, "but he did tell me to give something to you."

   I know I'm not going to affect her the way he affected me, but I go for it anyway, taking her left cheek with my hand so I can lightly kiss the other.

   Then I hold one of her hands and kiss that too, a little peck on the knuckles as I pull her around the room as though we were dancing. 

   But I have no idea how to actually dance, and she takes the lead instead, spinning and laughing in circles, and before long, both of our stomachs start rumbling. 

   I smile, flashing the coin purse at my belt that I managed to hold onto despite everything, and tilt my head towards the inn right next door to the stable.

   So we silently step outside, but we hardly make it two feet before a horse and cart suddenly block our way, the cart laden with hides, furs, and leather.

   I turn to the driver and almost open my mouth to harass him when Isabeau screams hysterically, and the man gives me an evil, calculated look before I turn my attention where she's looking. 

   One of the pelts is large, thick, and pure black, as dark as the night we're in.

   Then the cart moves, and Isabeau is still screaming enough for the both of us.

   I wish I could scream, but I'm just numb, and it takes me a moment to realize that Isabeau has drawn her dagger and is following the man with the cart.

   Unwilling to believe that some simple man could do this to Navarre, I trail behind her, hoping I can keep her as safe as he would ask me to.

              ~*~*~*~

    It's dark, terrifying, and utterly lonely out here in the woods where the wolf-hunter has apparently set plenty of traps, and I can hear them as they snap, one after the other after the other.

    It seems suspicious to me, but I have no other evidence besides the man's expression until I hear Isabeau screaming again. 

   "It's a trap," I mutter indignantly, "it's a trap, and we both fell for it!"

   I pick up my pace, keeping my eyes open for traps of the physical kind, and I hear them triggering as Isabeau screams again.

   He's probably doing it on purpose to terrify her, I think when I hear the sound of a wolf whine and then die, probably triggered by stepping on something.

    I see a figure that can only be Isabeau, and the large hunter kneeling down to see what he's got, but he doesn't know that she's there, so I keep quiet. 

    A sudden snarling startles the hunter, and the massive wolf charges towards him.

   The man yelps, afraid for his life, and Isabeau takes the chance to kick him face first onto his own trap.

   I see him struggling from here, and she just watches, and as I creep closer, I can hear her breathy sobbing and heaving. 

    "Isabeau?" I call out, "Isabeau, it's okay."

    The wolf is there, sniffing the man and turning from the still twitching and gurgling body dismissively as he returns to Isabeau. 

   I reach her at the same time and wrap my arms around her, and I can feel her tears on my shoulder as she grips me tightly in return. 

   "Mina, oh Mina," she says in a haggard voice, "I was so scared, that was horrible."

   I muster a little confidence to repeat my earlier thought, "no simple man would have been able to do that to Navarre, wolf or not."

   She laughs at this, just a little snort, and says, "oh, but in the moment, I just..."

   "I know, I know," I try to remain confident, thinking that someone has to, but that someone isn't me, and within seconds, I'm crying too.

  "Oh God, what if it had been him?" I sob, and the hug gets tighter as we both share a moment of misery. 

   I don't know how long we're like this before the wolf bowls me over putting his full weight on my legs.

   "Ow! You oaf!" I complain, and Isabeau snorts again. 

   "He probably wants us to get going," she reasons, and I agree with her. 

   "Okay, let's get Goliath and get out of here," and we head back to town silently, leaving the terrible man and his cart full of awful pelts behind. 

Chapter Text

   The next morning, I awaken in the woods underneath Navarre's cloak, him having wrapped it around the both of us against the chill of the morning. 

   He must have done it after transforming, while I was fast asleep, but this time I'm too tired to be mad that he wouldn't let me see.

   So I lay against his chest and listen to his heart beating, before realizing this might be a bit too intimate.

   But there's nothing I can do, since his arms have me locked in place. 

   Damnit. 

   Before I can even decide whether it's worth it to wake him up, my decision is made for me when a dead rabbit dropped on my lap makes me scream shrilly. 

   "Oh God, why?! I thought you liked me?!" I shout up at the hawk in the branches above as Navarre groans and starts shifting. 

   "So early, mouse?" He mumbles. 

   "Ladyhawke brought breakfast," I wince as I pick up the rabbit and get up, dropping it by the fire Isabeau and I made last night. 

  "How kind of her," he laughs and stretches, standing to gather his usual tools and start preparing the rabbit. 

   This time, I stay in the clearing, on the opposite side of the fire from him, and he asks, "anything interesting happen last night?"

   "Oh, we thought you had died, but that turned out to be untrue, so-" I say unthinkingly, and his head snaps up to look at me.

  "Died? What now?"

  I scratch my head and realize I never took off the bandage, so I ask in a low voice, "help me with this and I'll tell you all about it."

   So he finishes the rabbit, and when he has the meat cooking, he bids me sit in front of him in the dirt.

   I feel him trying to remove it without yanking my hair, which isn't going very well, and he apologizes every time I wince. 

  In order to distract myself, I begin, "we were hiding in a stable so she could change out of the dress into something more travel-ready, and I passed along your message."

   He hums, and I'm not sure what he's reacting to when he says, "you were in the stable with her?"

   "Yeah, but we're both women, so who cares?" I whine as he works at the bandage, "I was watching the door! It's not like I helped her dress, and she only talked about you, anyway."

   "You've proven your point, mouse," he sighs, and I realize I would like for there to never be a reason for him to sigh again. 

   "So we left the stable to go grab a bite at the inn next door, when some odious man with a cart full of wolf pelts crosses in front of us," I continue. 

   "Ah, I've heard of a rather unpleasant man named Cezar that hunts big game around here," Navarre's voice has gone quiet, anticipating the next part of my story. 

   "In his cart, there's a wolf fur that looks..." I hesitate, feeling him peel more of the bandage away, "it looks a lot like you, very large and all black. Isabeau thought- well, we both thought it was you."

   I feel the rest of the bandage come off, then his fingers as he examines my scalp. 

   "I see," he whispers, "and what did the two of you do then?"

   "Isabeau followed him like a madwoman!" I'm still nervous about telling him any of this, "there was nothing I could do but follow her! I wouldn't have let her go alone, especially since I think it was a trap!"

   "And I greatly, greatly appreciate that, Philomena," he's still carding his fingers through my hair, "even though I would prefer if you both stay out of danger like that. What happened when she followed him?"

  "I kept hearing the sound of traps going off, and Isabeau screaming, then-" he accidentally snags my hair, "ouch!"

   "Sorry, sorry," he fixes the spot he snagged and keeps going, "then what?"

   "He trapped another wolf, and he was checking the trap while Isabeau snuck up on him, then you appeared! You scared the hell out of him, and she took the opportunity to kick him into his own trap!"

   I'm giddy with excitement for some reason, and I listen as Navarre laughs, "maybe you two can take care of yourselves."

   "Not happy Isabeau had to kill a man, huh?" I ask stupidly.

   "I would have preferred her not have to do that, yes," he answers, and I almost ask why he's still playing with my hair when he starts braiding it.

   "And that was it?" 

   I nod, afraid of opening my mouth, even though I don't know why.

   "Thank you, Philomena," he says, finishing my braid.

   I pull it forward to look, and it's more neatly done than I thought it would be, the end tied with a way nicer kind of thread than I'm used to, though I have no idea where he could have gotten it from. 

   He takes the hand holding up the braid and kisses the knuckles before getting up and checking the meat over the fire, and I sit there dumbfounded until he hands me a stick and tells me to eat.

Chapter Text

   When we set out on Goliath a while later, I ask to sit behind him this time, and he says, "you won't be able to sleep that way, you know."

   "Yeah, I know, but- wait, why not?"

   He raises an eyebrow and answers, "if you fall, I can't catch you."

   His look makes me nervous again, but I shake it off and say, "so tie my hands together in front of you, it'll be fine."

   He laughs, steaming the chill air with his breath, and says, "if I fall, you'll just get hurt. Stay in front of me, mouse."

   I pout, but do as I'm told again, and I ride in front while we're both wrapped in his cloak.

   This turns out to be a good idea, because it starts snowing hardly ten minutes out, and I lean back to try to absorb Navarre's natural warmth. 

   "You're right, it is better this way," I admit, feeling a little awkward, "but I still don't like being told what to do."

   "Just bare with me a little longer, Philomena," he sighs, and I'm seriously getting tired of it.

   "You only call me that when you want something!" I wriggle in frustration, but he's locked his arms around me again, "saving Ladyhawke, climbing down the tower ladder, waiting on the balcony for her, every single time!"

   Navarre remains silent, and I'm wondering whether he's going to get mad, shout something back, but all he does is whisper, "what would you like to be called, then?"

    I'm a little taken aback by this considerate question, and when he loosens his hold and begins rubbing my arms where he squashed me, I answer, "I'd like to be Philomena, if you please. And, uh... I don't mind mouse, sometimes."

   "In that case, where to next, Philomena?" I can hear the laughter in his voice, a much more pleasant sound than his sighs.

   Without thinking, I immediately say, "let's try to break the curse."

   "You believe that old drunk and his ramblings?" He sounds like he's trying not to get agitated.

   I turn and pout, meeting his eyes, "I know the risks we face if something goes wrong, but if we don't-"

   "I know, Philomena, I know," he cuts me off, but I keep going.

   "-you'll be stuck like this, you and her both!"

   He's seething a little as he repeats through gritted teeth, "I know, Philomena."

   I get the picture, and shut myself up, watching the sky as Ladyhawke dips and whirls through the falling snow.

    My hands are so cold there's nothing I can do to wipe the tears as they leave chilly trails down my face. 

      ~*~*~*~

    When night falls and Navarre leaves me with Goliath to go transform somewhere else, I complain to myself in the dark.

    "God what a stubborn man, can't even suggest something, that's just like him-" I mutter until I'm suddenly grabbed by the upper arm, and I scream before I realize it's Isabeau. 

   "Sorry, Mina!" She gasps, "I didn't mean to startle you!"

   Catching my breath after that scare, I say, "Isabeau, listen, your lover is so stubborn! Imperius says there's a way to break the curse, but Navarre refuses to believe him!"

    She blinks in confusion before becoming serious, "really? What did he say?"

    "That there's going to be 'a day without night and a night without day', where the two of you can both appear before the Bishop, in the flesh, causing the curse to break."

    "And Navarre refuses to even try?"

    I've given up even trying not to slander the man in front of her, "he's so opinionated! And bossy! Everything has to be done his way, or-"

   "And when this is all over, you'll see what a lovely person he is," she wraps me in a hug, and I sob into her shoulder.

   "You have to convince him to try it," I mutter, and she nods hesitantly.

   "I would, but there's no way for us to meet..."

   I'm about to say something smart-mouthed when we hear shouting that turns out to be Imperius riding in on a donkey. 

   Then a plan clicks together in my head, and I wave at the old monk, "over here! Hey, have you seen the wolf anywhere?"

Chapter Text

   After some searching, we find a lake frozen over with ice and coated in a layer snow.

  "Why here?" Isabeau asks curiously as we dig a hole in the hard ground a few feet away from the lake.

  "Because he's more likely to show up if he thinks you're in some kind of danger," I explain with a sly grin, "I know you two don't remember what you do as animals, but you are still very attached to each other."

   She turns a little red and keeps digging, and I'm reminded again that she's tougher than she looks.

   When I think the pit is deep and wide enough, I call out, "we're ready!", to Imperius, who has kept an eye out for the wolf while we worked. 

  "He's there! Look, look!" The monk shouts, pointing over the ice.

  I jump into the pit to watch as Isabeau scrambles out onto the lake, carefully treading the ice in the hopes it doesn't break.

  I'm holding my breath, occasionally blinking in the direction the sun should rise in, as the wolf crosses the ice towards Isabeau. 

  The plan is going brilliantly when the terrible sound of cracking ice rings out, and I'm back out of the pit before my heart can sink into it as the ice under the wolf begins breaking. 

  Isabeau screams, "NO!", and before I can even think, the both of us are on our stomachs, crawling over the ice to the wolf.

  He's howling and yelping in the freezing water, and Isabeau is reaching out to grab a leg, heedless of the slashing claws, when I shout, "let me do it!"

  I don't know what came over me, but I'm reaching into the frigid waters, trying to grab the wolf while Isabeau supports me, his claws stinging my chest through the thin tunic. 

  It hurts! I know he doesn't know what's happening, but the cuts burn and make it hard to concentrate.

  "Oh God please calm down please you have to stay still you have to get out-" I babble as I get a grip on the thrashing wolf.

  Soon, Imperius is out on the ice too, trying to haul both of us up, using Navarre's heirloom sword as leverage to lift us from the water.

   More of the ice starts breaking off as I struggle to keep my hold on the wild animal Navarre had become, and will continue to become unless we confront the Bishop.

   Unless Navarre and Isabeau confront the Bishop.

   It takes a lot of screaming, terror, and in my case, loss of blood, but before long, the four of us lay out on the ice, breathing heavily and sobbing miserably.

   "Get- oh god, get off the ice," I say to Imperius, then I make Isabeau go next as I try to coax the wolf myself. 

   It isn't until the two of them are lying in the pit together that I realize we've lost the sword in the ice.

  "Oh God he's going to be furious when he realizes what we've done..." I babble and go to lie down somewhere, face up so my open wounds can breathe. 

       ~*~*~*~

  I don't rest for long, waking from a doze as Imperius whispers, "mouse! Get up, look!"

   Rubbing the tiredness from my eyes, I wrap myself in an old woolen cloak, look down into the pit from the slope above, and gasp. 

    Something is happening to Isabeau, the same something I'd seen on the tower but was in too much of a panic to pay attention to, as her legs shorten and twist into hard talons, her arms burst with feathers and finally, her eyes become hard beads of amber.

   At the same time, the opposite happens to the wolf; his black fur recedes, some of it turning shaggy blond, his arms and legs and spine stretch and straighten, and wild golden eyes turn as blue as the frozen lake.

   There was a brief moment in between where the were both fully, gloriously human, and their eyes met, golden to ocean, then amber to ice, and they reach out for each other, one hand elegant and dainty, the other rough and battle-hardened. 

   But they're too far apart, and they both wail in a deep, furious pain I could never begin to understand. 

   When it was over, and Ladyhawke was flying away, Navarre kept on screaming until his voice cracked, then slumped, all of the energy taken out of him, for a moment. 

   I don't know how long I looked into that pit, staring at this naked, broken man, and wishing he would let me share in his grief.

   This is no place for me, I know. 

   I'm just a mouse, not fit for the company of a wolf and a hawk.

   Shaking my head, I notice that Navarre has turned to look at me, eyes filled with an emotion I could not read.

   I stare for far too long before I realize he wants me to turn around so he can dress.

      ~*~*~*~

    A few minutes later, Navarre is searching the lake carefully for his fallen sword. 

   While he's at it, he's also catching fish barehanded, wearing a thick white shirt and a heavy black cowl.

  It's the first time I've seen him in anything other than black and red, and I'm failing terribly at trying not to act mesmerized. 

   He looks at me from across the lake and shouts, "I don't want to hear any complaints about fish!"

   I screw up my face and respond, "I'd eat pig brains at this point!"

   Shaking his head, he returns to the pit where I'm now wincing in pain from hiding the scratches on my chest, and says, "you're going to have to settle for fish innards."

   "Please, I know you're mad about the sword, but..."

   "Mad? Philomena, I am infuriated about the sword!" He raises his voice a hair more than I like, "not only was it a family treasure, it was my best chance at getting rid of the Bishop!"

   "Navarre, you selfish bastard, if you would listen to people!" I stand up in a rush and start getting dizzy, "Isabeau believes me about the curse-!"

   I'm so disoriented from the rush of blood to my head, after already losing so much, I hardly notice when Navarre stops complaining and holds me by the shoulders.

   "Philomena, what happened?" He sounds so haggard, voice fraught with concern, that it takes me looking into his face to figure out what he's talking about. 

   In my haste to stand and argue, I lost the cloak I was using to hide my marked chest, and he can see the scratches he left, plain as day. 

   "Philomena? Did I... did I do this?"

   He swallows, his mouth dry, and I look at my own wounded chest again. 

  "I had to save you from the ice," I mutter, blinking to stem the tears from my eyes, "you were thrashing wildly in the water, and I wasn't doing to let you hurt Isabeau, even on accident."

   If you could hear someone's heart breaking, I think I would have just then, because he leans down to wrap me in a big, all-consuming hug, and I wince at first before melting into his arms. 

   His breath tickles my ear as he whispers, "Philomena, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," and I bury my face in his warm chest and nod my head, unable to bring myself to speak.

   I suddenly remember something from when those soldiers staged an ambush, and because I never learned to keep my mouth shut, I just open up and say it.

   "Those soldiers who attacked us, when Ladyhawke was shot," I feel him cringe slightly, "they called me your 'new girl'. Pretty idiotic of them, huh? And one of the men at the castle said the Bishop found me 'intriguing' and wanted me taken along with Isabeau!"

   But he says nothing, only holding me tighter, and I start whining in response, "Navarre, that hurts!"

   Finally letting go, he apologizes again, and I can't help but think for a moment how tragic this is, but what 'this' is, I have no idea. 

Chapter Text

   After I apply a poultice Imperius mixes out of herbs, Navarre very carefully and delicately helps me wrap some bandages around my torso, mostly because I refuse to let Imperius do it, but he insists it needs to be done. 

   It hurts a lot less, but it still stings whenever I move in certain ways, and it's hard to breath as I stand.

  "Will you be alright?" Navarre asks, open shame on his face, and I grin and bare it the best that I can. 

  "Oh yeah," I shrug, "so, uh, what do we do now?"

   Navarre stretches until I can hear his limbs pop, then strides over to where we have fish roasting over a fire.

   He hands me a stick, looking from me to Imperius, who's already eating one of his own.

   Taking the last for himself, he asks me, "you said Isabeau believes the two of you?"

   "She did, she did!" I clamor as Imperius adds, "one of you has to have some sense!"

   Shaking his head, Navarre goes on, "and do you have a plan to do it? If we both need to appear before the Bishop-"

   "You can leave that to me!" I try to seem excited, "I have an idea!"

   Which is true, but actually executing a plan is another matter altogether.

    ~*~*~*~

   We spend the day traveling to Aquila and gathering supplies, and by 'gathering' I mean I got to pinch a bunch of stuff from the locals.

   Once we have our disguises and a cart fitted with a cage, we grunge up Goliath a bit so he won't be recognized and hide some of his nicer saddlebags in the cage.

   "You're hoping they won't think to inspect in there?" Navarre asks.

   "Uh, you're going to be in there, in wolf form," I remind him sarcastically from atop Goliath, "what maniac is putting his hands in there with a feral animal?"

   Imperius chimes in, "what do we say if some idiot does stick his hands in?"

   "Tell them the Bishop holds a grudge against this wolf in particular; that's true enough!" I cackle, making Navarre fix me with a stern look.

   "And what will you be doing?" 

   Struggling to get down from the horse, he lends me a hand, "I'm going through the sewer so I can open the cathedral during midday mass. You know, it's a little worrying that the Bishop has the doors locked during mass, with all those people inside?"

  "Philomena, we could stand here listing all the Bishop's crimes until judgement day, when the bells sound," Navarre chuckles darkly, "or we can put an end to them. See you inside?"

   A great dread comes over me at the tone of his voice, and I stutter, "Navarre, I- I'm getting nervous."

   He eyes the growing sunset and whispers, "you will do your part perfectly, I'm sure."

   That's the end of the discussion, according to him, and he goes to crawl into his lonely cage so we won't have to hassle with the wolf.

    ~*~*~*~

   A few hours later, I'm climbing back through the disgusting sewers of Aquila, careful to only fully submerge when I absolutely have to. 

   I find a grate in what I believe is the acolytes quarters, and quickly discard my wet and tattered clothes for whatever I can find that fits, and also a heavily hooded robe.

   Then I find a spot where I can people watch and keep track of the time. 

   It's past midnight, and Imperius and Isabeau should be bringing in the wolf by now, the both of them heavily hooded themselves. 

   I just hope he doesn't do anything rash when he turns, but having him here, in the lion's den, might prove too tempting for him. 

   "Oh God please let him have some degree of patience please please please-" I ramble in my hidden spot.

   Clamping my mouth shut, I keep track of the kinds of people that go by, working far passed when normal folks would be sleeping. 

   There's acolytes, and other members of the clergy, modest women with laundry or gardening tools, not-so-modest women who are probably belongings of the Bishop.

   Thinking of them as 'belongings' makes me seethe inside, and I hope they're happy when the day is done with. 

   Eventually, the amount of people dwindles, but only for a few hours; as the sun pours in through the windows, so the people pour out of their rooms, and work begins again. 

   People are gathering in groups to head to mass, and as I hear the announcement that people head to the cathedral, I join the group wearing the same robes as the one I pilfered. 

   Keeping my head down, I follow them, passing through the cathedral doors and standing to the right, and I find a place that lets me see the door, the Bishop, and the bells.

   Navarre will be outside and fully outfitted in his old armor now, even though he didn't let me see it.

   I'm curious, but I have to remain focused on the task at hand. 

   Everything is riding on one moment, and any single slip-up could spell disaster and death for us all.

Chapter Text

   I'm starting to get anxious as the Bishop sweeps in, clad in his ceremonial robes and mitre, carrying a wicked looking crozier that can't be all that holy.

 Waiting for some divine sign that marks my signal to open the door, it takes about an hour of the Bishops speech before I come to the conclusion that nothing is happening. 

   I know that Navarre must be thinking the same thing, so I hope he's not doing anything crazy as I decide to go ahead with the plan. 

   When the men with the incense burners start coming through, I use them as a distraction to creep over to the door. 

   Glancing around to make sure no one is looking, I turn the heavy lock and push the door slightly ajar before returning to the crowd of acolytes. 

   I'm hardly there a few minutes when there's screaming from outside the cathedral, and then the doors go flying open, and the screaming spreads inside as well. 

   A knight dressed in black, red, and silver appears, his horse similarly black and clad in silver to match, and they enter with confidence and unbridled rage.

   He has something light and lilac tied to his arm like a lady's favor, and I realize it's the thing I saw him with the night we met.

   It must belong to Isabeau. 

   Everyone's mouths are hanging open, including mine, and I try to catch the eyes behind the silver feathered helmet, but he doesn't look anywhere but forward. 

   I realize something is wrong when I see no sign of Isabeau. 

   It's difficult to keep myself from calling out to stop him, but now that he's here, I don't think there's any way we can stop.

   Another rider charges in; it's Marquet, suited up for battle, and a duel on horseback ensues.

   My mouth is still hanging stupidly open when I realize Navarre had found his ancestral sword, after all.

   The clashing of swords and the shouting of men terrifies the people inside, and I'm getting shoved by acolytes as they try to back away from the horseback duel. 

   As the battle goes on with no sign of Isabeau, Navarre fights more desperately, going from horseback to a man-to-man duel, thinking he has nothing to lose. 

   I want to scream at him, get his attention, tell him not to let his pain distract him, but there's nothing I can do.

   Likely sensing his distress, Marquet tries something underhanded, and removes his helmet to toss in Navarre's face.

   But a quick movement from Navarre sends it flying into the stained glass, and as it shatters, he stops and stares.

   Something is going on with the sun, and Navarre removes his helmet and the hood underneath, and shouts, "NO!"

   I have no clue what's happening now, but Navarre tries to escape the cathedral, only to be stopped by Marquet, dragging him back into the fray.

   The renewed battle is even more fierce, as Navarre tries to stop the men from ringing the bells. 

   I try to get over there to help, but it isn't enough, and I begin crying in frustration, angry at myself for suggesting we even try this.

   As the bell rings and Navarre screams in utter desperation, I shrug off a comforting hand, looking up again to focus on Navarre. 

   The entire room gasps as Navarre rolls to avoid Marquet's blade, then rolls back over it to disarm the man before plunging his family's sword into his chest.

   As I move forward, desperate to call out to him, he fixes an enraged gaze on the Bishop.

   His nose is bleeding profusely, and he looks very much like a wolf as he stalks towards the Bishop, sword in hand.

   "Isabeau is dead," he announces, and I feel my breathing hitch, "so there's no reason left to keep you alive."

  I wonder what the hell he's talking about, and I'm about to say so, when a voice rings out, "wait!"

   A tap at my shoulder tells me Imperius is there, but I don't turn my attention away from the silhouette at the door.

   The Bishop hides his eyes as Isabeau enters the cathedral and approaches the altar, and Navarre lifts his sword to point it in the man's face, and bellows, "look at her! DO IT!"

   I didn't know he could get so loud, and the Bishop does as he says.

   It's impossible to tell if anything has happened, but the lovers stand side by side, Isabeau holding something in her clenched fist.

   The crowd starts moving forward again, and I see Isabeau clearly as she steps towards the altar. 

   The Bishop's face is white in fear as she drops the jesses that were tied to her feet as a hawk, and then she turns, refusing to dignify him with a single word. 

   Navarre reaches out for her hand, but this isn't as over as he thinks it is. 

   Face full of fury, the Bishop stands with his crozier aimed at Isabeau's back, and hisses, "then no man shall!

   This time, I really do scream, my own voice deafening in my ears, "YOU COWARD!"

   Navarre suddenly swings his sword hard enough to throw it, pinning the Bishop to his altar through the heart.

   People gasp and shriek, then fall silent as the Bishop whispers his last word, "...Isa...beau."

   The silence is such a sharp contrast to the noise before that people begin to shuffle awkwardly, especially when Navarre picks Isabeau up by the waist and spins her around in circles.

   "Isabeau!" He shouts, pure joy and laughter in his voice, and they kiss everywhere they can reach that wouldn't be strange in public. 

   "Etienne!" She replies, running her hands through his hair, her happiness so beautiful and overflowing that I can't help but shed ridiculous tears. 

   Some of the crowd have the good sense to start clapping and cheering, either for the ending of this glorious love story or for their freedom from tyranny, and I decide it's as good a distraction as any.

   I'm nudging Imperius ahead of me so we can slip out through the cathedral doors, when I hear my name called loudly. 

   "Philomena! Where do you think you're going?" It's Navarre, and I know I must look pitiful when I turn and see them both waving.

   Well, I hate being bossed around, you know? But I go over anyway, because I've already been spotted and can't sneak away. 

   The now far more fervently cheering crowd parts to let us through, and when I meet them in the middle, I'm greeted with a tight, adoring embrace by Isabeau, who kisses me on the cheek, "thank you, Mina. Thank you so much."

  When she releases me, I'm nearly swept off my feet by Navarre, who holds the back of my head with one hand while he plants a wet kiss where my ear meets my jaw, and whispers, "Philomena."

   I almost force myself to hope it's wet from the blood he's covered in, but who am I kidding?

   The cheering gets louder and louder, and people from the cathedral begin leaving to spread the news.

   The tyrant is dead, Captain Navarre and Lady Isabeau returned, the priest Imperius as well, and some mousey little woman who helped them in their time of need. 

  I wish I could say that was all there was to it, but my lord God saw fit to reward me for my honesty and holy deeds.

  If you'll bare with me a little while longer, you'll hear all about it.

  I never learned to keep my mouth shut, remember?

Chapter Text

   I'm in the infirmary of the soldiers barracks as Navarre gets patched up from his battle, hardly thirty minutes later. 

  He insisted that Isabeau be the one to go get things done, in regards to Aquila's empty religious position, which I thought was odd, but I think he wants to tell me something privately. 

   Which he did, and now I'm seething about it.

   Women keep passing by the open doorway and giggling, but I don't know what they find so funny, and I shoot them dirty looks to make them pass quickly. 

   I'm pretty pissed already, after Navarre told me what he did that had him so frantic in the cathedral. 

   "So, run that by me one more time?" It feels powerful to be the one this angry, honestly. 

   "Philomena, I've explained it three times now," he sounds terrible while trying to staunch the bleeding nose.

   "Yes, but let's hear it again..." God, he looks so good with a bloody nose, but I have to go on, "how you told Imperius to kill her if you died!"

   His shameful expression is so handsome on him, I almost feel guilty. 

   But I'm not done yet. 

   "And you don't want her to know?"

   "Philomena, if I-" this doesn't sound like an answer to my question, "if I had died, her life would have continued to be a half-life, a living nightmare. I couldn't do that to her."

   This was new, something he hadn't said the other three times he told it, and so I relent.

   "Okay, yeah," I sigh deeply, "I understand."

   Smiling up at me from where he sits on the edge of an infirmary bed, he says, "I'm glad, and Philomena?"

   "Yes?" I'm not sure I want to hear this.

   "If the same had happened to her, I would have asked you do the same for me," he grins like this is supposed to make me feel better. 

   "You think I would have been able to kill a wolf? Are you out of your mind?!"

   He laughs as I stomp from the infirmary and look for something to do. 

         ~*~*~*~

   I'm sitting on a stone bench in a neatly decorated garden walkway, just watching people pass, some of which wave or laugh or come to say hello, or ask me who I am and my relation to Isabeau and Navarre. 

   I give short, simple answers to most of them, especially if they seem a bit too interested, and I'm there for a while before Isabeau appears and sits down. 

   We're both dressed for travel, but I don't think she intends to leave; it was just the easiest thing to put on until everything gets settled and decisions are made. 

   She takes one of my hands in her own, and we sit before I see that she has a dagger on her belt.

   "Hey, let me use that," I point at it, "I'm cutting my damn hair off, once and for all."

   She looks at me with some confusion before saying, "oh, Mina, please keep it! I adore your hair."

   "I don't even know the last time it's been properly washed!" I laugh, and she laughs, too.

   "I'm leaving mine like this," she says, taking me aback, "I cut it with Navarre's sword when the curse started, and I enjoy it like this."

   "Does he know? He totally flips when you use the sword for anything but it's purpose."

   This makes her laugh so hard she snorts, and then she looks at me seriously. 

   "Philomena, please stay here," her ocean eyes meet mine, and it's my turn to be confused. 

  "Really, in Aquila? Why?" I ask stupidly. 

   Isabeau smiles, and I'm awestruck by the face of love, as I was the night we met, as I was when we ran around the castle escaping the Bishop's men.

   The pit of my stomach is twisting with some strange emotion, and I tell her, "I'll think about it, milady," in my fake-noble voice, and she squeezes my hand twice before saying goodbye.

   I sit on the bench alone for a bit longer before I realize how starving I am.

Chapter Text

   That night, with Isabeau, Navarre, and Imperius to vouch for me, I'm showered with incredible rewards from the people of Aquila. 

   The first is the most delicious meal I've ever had in my entire life, and we eat beef, pork, fish, and vegetables prepared in ways I've never seen before, and fruits from far-off places I've never heard of. 

  The four of us eat together, and I soon forget my embarrassment as I stuff my face with anything offered to me. 

  They must think I don't notice how much goes from their plates to mine, but I choose not to call them out. 

   The next thing I'm given is a room of my own, though this I'm not quite as happy about, for some reason.

   Not that I wanted to be presumptuous, but...

   I hardly have time to think about it before Isabeau opens the wardrobe to show me a selection of clothing picked out just for me. 

  Realizing I might have eaten too much, I stand there miserably, "Isabeau, I appreciate all of this, I really do, but..."

   She looks at me sadly, and when I feel Navarre's presence at the door, my heart begins to break, "I don't think I can stay."

   Her eyes go to the door, and I think the two of them are looking at each other, and she moves towards me, tears in her eyes, "what's wrong, Mina? You don't want to stay with us?"

   "I do, I r-really do, but-" I stutter, her tears making my eyes well up, too, "please, I- I can't-"

   A big, warm hand on my shoulder makes me come to a sudden, heartwrenching realization. 

  Everything comes crashing down on me, all at once; the subtle touches, the way my eyes meet theirs, the kisses on the cheek and neck, the running their fingers through my hair. 

   Sitting in front of him on horseback. 

   Chasing her into the woods to kill the wolf-hunter.

   "I can't- I can't stay here!" I wail, rubbing my eyes like a child as the tears fall.

   I'm in love with them.

   With both of them, my loyal wolf and my fierce hawk.

   But I'm just a little mouse, and no matter how small I make myself, they will always be each others, with no room for me. 

   I'm openly weeping now, and I sob into Isabeau's shoulder as she wraps me in her arms, and then I feel Navarre's arms around us both.

   "D-don't," I whine, "I can't stay, I can't!"

   "Why not, Philomena?" Navarre asks comfortingly into my hair, "after everything we've been through? What we've done? 

   Light-headed from crying so hard, I can't help but let slip how I truly feel.

   "Because I love you b-both," me and my big mouth, "even if it w-were allowed, if it was okay, I'm n-not strong enough, I don't want to be in between you!"

   "Mina," Isabeau says soothingly, "we love you too."

   This just makes me sob harder, and I'm definitely making myself look like a child barely out of her swaddling clothes.

   "In a little sibling way, right, or an adopted child?"

   "No, Philomena," Navarre chuckles, and I feel like an idiot. 

   "Weird cousin?"

   Isabeau snorts, and repeats, "no," in a playful voice.

   "Wait, r-really? Seriously?" I'm still crying, but a lot less loudly, and I ask, "and you've... discussed this, between yourselves?"

   "Yes, Philomena, we've talked about it," Navarre leans away and starts rubbing my arms, while Isabeau tries to wipe my tears away with her fingers, "what would we have done without our clever mouse?"

   "All I did was o-open a door," I argue, still stammering a little, embarrassed by my puffy face.

  "And rode like a fiend to save Isabeau's life," Navarre points out.

  "Defended our lives at the castle," Isabeau reminds me.

  "Saved me from a frozen lake and convinced me to take a chance on Imperius' vision," Navarre concluded. 

  Isabeau wraps her arms around me again, "we think you are strong enough, our mouse."

  "And you won't come between us, either," Navarre adds with a laugh I can feel on my neck.

   Breathing heavily, I have to ask, "and when, exactly, were either of you planning on telling me this?!"

  "We didn't think it needed to be said," Navarre answers sheepishly, "we're sorry, Philomena, if we didn't make you feel like you were loved."

   "Standing here squashed in between you both for eternity might make up for it," I say dryly, and I'm suddenly being picked up by my skinny waist. 

   Navarre turns me in the air to face him before spinning me like he did Isabeau earlier today, and the gleam in his eyes makes me giddy.

   When he sets me down again, Isabeau whispers, "please, give this a chance," and I can't do anything but nod and keep on blubbering. 

   I'm taken by surprise when I earn a kiss on both cheeks, and then Isabeau and Navarre take turns lightly kissing my lips.

   I have no clue what to do about this, but when I'm wrapped in two sets of arms again, I'm starting to get an idea.

Chapter Text

   I'm allowed to keep the room if I ever want privacy, and to store anything that belongs to me, so I sleep there the first night. 

   Sometime mid-morning, I'm awoken by Isabeau, who's dressed in beautiful powder blue, and is carrying a dress in meadow green.

   "Mina, darling, there's breakfast for you here," she says softly, "then it's time to get dressed."

   I've always dreaded mornings, but now I'm in the nicest bed I've ever slept in, and I complain, "I'm begging, let me waste away in luxury."

   "Come try this breakfast you've never had before," she laughs, and this makes me sit up straight. 

   Getting out of bed and sliding to my rooms nice little table, set with three chairs, I take a few bites of some weird cakes smothered in honey and laden with berries, then say, "you can't hit me with 'darling' before anything is decided."

  "I'm sorry, it's just that I've been thinking of you as 'darling' to myself for so long," she sighs wistfully, like she really has been waiting to call me that.

   But before I can express this opinion, she adds, "oh, that door there is your own private bath. I can show you how to get hot water if you don't want someone else doing it for you."

   I raise both my eyebrows in astonishment, "huh, how did you guess?"

   She winks with a smile and waits for me to finish my meal before showing me what to do for water, then we return to my room and she helps me undress for the bath.

   It's a little awkward, being helped to wash like this, but I've never had a proper one in my entire adult life, and I need the bandages removed so the scratches can be checked. 

   Isabeau doesn't say anything, but I know she knows what they're from, so the silence is really awkward. 

   But they aren't that bad, and soon enough it'll be like they were never there.

   So Isabeau washes my hair and my back, while I do what I can with the front, and when she thinks I'm sufficiently clean, she makes me step in front of a mirror so she can towel me off.

   My skin is still tanned, but I can't tell if that's natural or from sun exposure. My hair is lighter than I thought, but still decidedly brown, and my eyes are a similar color. 

   I've got hair in places that I wasn't aware of, but I've never looked at myself naked before, and I never thought was really important to remove while on the road.

   And then I feel stupid for thinking about it; before changing my mind; what if Isabeau or Navarre do care about my being hairy?

   Isabeau immediately kills that poisonous thought by taking a brush to my head and saying, "you look fine, Mina. The hair isn't any bother."

  I know I'm turning red, and in the mirror I see a lot of other things turn red, as well, "uh, sure, if you say so."

  We then return to the room, where she has me put on a bunch of layered ladies underthings I've never worn in my life, and I ask her, "is there some reason for the private breakfast and nice clothes?"

   "We're leading a procession to gather folks who would like to see the Bishop's body burned," she says bitterly, and then helps me get the dress on.

  Looking at myself in the larger mirror in this room, I'm amazed that someone picked a color that actually looks nice, "Isabeau, this dress-"

   "Was Navarre's choice," she nods, eyes sparkling, "do you like it?"

  "It's lovely," I tell her, "you and him... you really pay more attention to me than I deserve."

   Before she can answer, we hear boot steps in the hall, and they turn out to be the man himself. 

   Navarre is wearing black and red, as usual, but with the addition of his silver armor and a white trim that really catches the eye. 

  Next to him, I realize that we all have some white detail in our clothes, be it trim, or buttons, or lace, and I'm overcome with an odd question. 

   "Are we dressed to honor the man?" 

   The two of them shake their heads, and Navarre answers, "we honor ourselves, Philomena."

   "It's time to go, Mina," Isabeau adds, and they both hold out a hand to me.

   Looking at my feet Isabeau had clad in nice riding shoes, and nod awkwardly, "okay, let's go together."

    ~*~*~*~

   After the procession, where hundreds of people from Aquila and the surrounding towns celebrated the death of a tyrant, I found out something that had me absolutely outraged. 

    "What do mean, you slept in separate rooms?!"

    Navarre steers Goliath at a gentle walk, while Isabeau and I sit in a cart that's been hitched to the beautiful beast, and we were enjoying the countryside, until they told me this.

   "Well, we told you we talked about it, and after that, it just didn't feel right," Isabeau explains, but it just makes me feel worse. 

   "I'm sorry, but I-," I hesitate, but when the horse slows to a stop under the dense shade of the trees, and Navarre looks at me, I feel my heart hurting, "I just don't like feeling like I'm intruding, especially after the two years you both struggled."

   Navarre dismounts and climbs into the cart with us, and when he sits next to Isabeau, he tries to get me to move to his other side.

   Staring incredulously, I ask them, "what did you even say to each other?"

   Their eyes meet, and spectacularly, they both turn pink.

   "Well, besides your incredible feats of courage and cunning," Navarre begins, making me snort hysterically with laughter, "we told you those last night, after all!"

   "Oh, you're serious? Damnit, Navarre, don't tease me!"

   Isabeau snickers, and says, "we also think you're terribly cute, right, Etienne?", and I get the feeling he's the one being teased when his face turns a bit more red.

   "Oh yeah, he's actually really shy! But Isabeau already knew that, right?" I laugh with her, joining them so we have Navarre stuck between us. 

   "Ladies, please-" he begins when I cut him off to ask again. 

   "What kind of things do you say about me?"

   When Isabeau laughs again, he huffs and answers, "just how clever and intelligent our mouse is."

   "No way! I made so many stupid decisions, I could have messed everything up-"

   He scoffs indignantly and says, "you were far more rational and level-headed than I was. In fact, I'm more surprised to hear that you fell for me, considering how... abrasive I am."

   Isabeau looks at him, them back to me, and leans into his chest.

   I do the same, the three of us deriving comfort from each others presence, and I whisper, "yes, but after all this time, I have infinite sympathy and understanding for your reasons for behaving that way."

   I hear the sound of him kissing the top of Isabeau's head, then feel the kiss laid on top of mine, "thank you for your grace and patience," he whispers. 

   "You better appreciate it, because it's the last you're getting!" I tease him, knowing that I'm lying. 

   He'll definitely be getting a lot more out of me, and Isabeau will, too.

   "It might take some getting used to, but," I blink as the sun moves enough that even the trees can't block it out, "I think I believe you both. Maybe our hearts are big and strong enough."

   Isabeau takes my hand, holding it in hers before laying it on Navarre's chest, and I'm so blissfully happy that I don't even notice when I fall asleep, and he eventually extracts himself so he can take us home. 

   I wish that was the last of what I had to say, but there is something else you might want to hear.

Chapter Text

   So many changes have happened when we finally take Imperius home a few months later.

   He was offered a position in the clergy, but he claims he found a life of solitude more fitting for him.

   I think he's lying, though, and Navarre and Isabeau agree that he'll probably be back soon.

   But we aren't going back to Aquila either, at least not directly. 

   It's not like I don't enjoy what we have there, but I was never one to stay in one place for long, and when I expressed this opinion to my lovers, they heartily agreed. 

   Oh, we're in love, the three of us! Isn't that grand? My constant prayer before God must have paid off, I think. 

   We eat meals together, we take baths, we sleep in the same bed, and I'm not always the one in the middle! 

   We even have petty arguments, especially since I like to take things without asking! It's all in good fun, and I return things that don't belong to me. 

   Most of the time. 

   They really shouldn't have given me a room to put things in. 

   And I've gained weight! Not enough to make significant changes, but I'm definitely not as skinny as I once was. For the first few days I ate whatever I was presented with, but now I know I can pace myself, and I even have the luxury of being picky about food.

   My hair is different, too, longer, fuller, and more shiny, and my two loves like to play with it until I fall asleep. I think that's why Isabeau told me to leave it! She'll braid it and Navarre will comb it out with his fingers, or vice versa. 

   And it turns out I'm an excellent fiddle player! I took someone's one day and messed with it for hours until I was caught. I got a stern talking-to from Navarre, and then he had one made for me, and I'm taking it with me on the road!

   One thing I did love about Aquila is learning more things about Isabeau and Navarre. 

   I learned that Isabeau is as accomplished a rider as Navarre, and she owns a white mare named Stardust, and they teach me to ride, too, and now I have a beautiful dapple-gray named Treasure.

   I learned that Navarre is extremely sensitive to being scratched on his scalp, and I take advantage of that at every opportunity, especially in the bath. He goes limp and makes amazing noises we love to hear!

   I learned that Isabeau can't stand the bottom of her feet being touched, because she's really ticklish there, and I try to tickle her all the time.

   I learned that Navarre has a sweet tooth no one is allowed to know about but us, and the three of us share pastries and pies and various other treats, but only in the dead of night, when no one is watching. 

   I learned that Isabeau likes hands and shapely rear ends, that Navarre likes breasts and the curve of the neck, and I like anything I can get my pinchy little hands on!

   I learned that if one is like night and the other like day, then perhaps they needed a dawn to bring them together. 

   Or dusk, I don't know! And I still can't figure out which is day and which is night between them, because they're both such different people, with light and dark parts both.

   Anyway, I'm rambling on, aren't I?

   It's been so nice in Aquila, but I need to stretch my legs!

   A new Bishop has been appointed, and a host of new soldiers trained, and one of the men who remained loyal to Navarre is in charge of the guard until we decide to go home. 

   So we're satisfied with the state of things, after sticking around long enough to make sure everything will be fine while we're gone, and we're finally setting out to explore the country!

   Oh, but there's one other thing I want to tell you!

   ~*~*~*~

   A few weeks after we leave Imperius, I'm riding Navarre's shoulders trying to swipe some apples from a tree.

   Isabeau sits in the shade and laughs, while a couple of feet away, our horses graze in the green grass.

   "Stop moving so much!" I groan as I keep missing the apples by inches. 

  "If you wouldn't flail your arms like that, it would be easier," Navarre complains, and I look down at him before trying to lift my feet onto his shoulders so I can stand. 

  "Oh no, don't you start," he tries to reprimand me as I jump up, grab a branch and shake. 

   As I'm dropping apples out of the sky, Navarre decides it's a fitting punishment to walk away, leaving me stranded there, hanging from the branch.

   "Aaaahhh, no! Come back, I won't do it again, I swear!" I'm begging as he picks up fallen apples and examines them before offering one to Isabeau and each of the horses.

   He turns to me with a sly grin and says, "what do you have to say for yourself, little criminal?"

   "I say 'get me down before I spit on you'," I try to keep up being angry, but then he opens his arms to catch me, and I'm reminded of how much I trust this man. 

   So I let myself drop down, and he catches me before I can even touch the ground. 

   Reaching up to run my fingers through his hair, I watch his serious face turn into a smirk, and I kiss him on the lips before he deposits me next to Isabeau. 

   Then he picks up a few more apples and makes sure nothing is wrong with them, then hands me one and sits down on my other side. 

   Looking out over the beautiful orchard we were unlawfully taking from, I lean onto Navarre's shoulder as Isabeau lays her head in my lap.

   The sun is just starting to set, and I welcome that magical time where anything can happen. 

   Even though it's been several months since then, I can't help but ask, "when did you both decide you were in love with me?"

   I'm not fooled when they meet each other's eyes for a moment, then Isabeau sits up and kisses me on the lips, pulling my shirt up from where I tucked it into my trousers, "the night we followed the wolf-hunter."

   Her whispered answer and perpetually cool hands distract me so much I yelp in shock when Navarre's bigger, warmer hands begin to trace the same places.

   "The morning we left Imperius," I can feel him smiling against the skin of my neck.

   "No fair, I'm beset on all sides by-" I'm cut off by clever pinches, and I reach out to pinch them back.

   But before we can really get going, our attention turns to the threatening shouts coming our way; the owner of the orchard has realized we're here and is making his way to us.

   We jump up as quickly as we can to mount our horses, and Isabeau and Navarre are taking off as I reach into my purse and toss the man a gold coin. 

   "Thanks for the apples, they were delicious!" I shout with tremendous laughter, and when I catch up, my lovers are laughing, too.

   We ride until the sun is truly setting before we set up camp, laughing over our escapades and deciding which way to go next.