Chapter Text
Winter had come to Katolis, the third since war had been narrowly avoided by the presentation of the Dragon Prince to his grieving mother by a prince of the same nation and his Moonshadow companion. The same prince and elf who had then embarked upon a seemingly endless tour of duty across both the lands of the Pentarchy and the elven lands of Xadia. Thankfully, theirs was only rarely a violent mission, and even then, the greatest threats they could hope to face were the occasional bandit or the stray monster that crossed their path. For their part, the two had given them a plethora of reasons to reconsider their decision. When they didn’t, when they insisted on pushing their luck, they found themselves quickly outmatched by the first human archmage and an extremely skilled Moonshadow assassin. It almost wasn’t fair.
For the most part, their greatest enemies were prejudices, paperwork, and petty rivalries, three p’s which the aforementioned archmage was beginning to think had nothing on bandits and monsters. Callum sighed into his tea, breathing in the fragrant aroma of a familiar blend, before delving back into the latest treatise. Ezran would tell him to take a break, that they had diplomats for a reason, but Callum was rapidly pushing them out of business. Awkward in conversation as he might have once been, his maturity had been matched by an increase in confidence. Combined with an excellent memory and a keen intellect, the young archmage had quickly set to mastering the fine art of diplomacy. An art he had come to realize was less about mastery and more about flattery. And when flattery didn’t work… well, then he had a much blunter instrument.
Callum turned the thought over in his head, welcoming the intrusion for the chance it gave him to consider one of his favorite topics. Modified it. Thought about the words and rectified his previous assessment. Calling Rayla blunt seemed… wrong almost. She could be a hammer when she needed to, especially when it came to breaking down the prejudices of the humans and elves they often found themselves interceding between. Where Callum was thought, Rayla was action. Blunt at times – and sarcastic even more often – but also elegant. And witty... And graceful… And beautif-
Back to the treatise. No time for whatever that was.
Of course, the more he tried to focus on the parchment before him, the more he put the quill to it and dripped ink into the scratches he made, the less the words came to him. And words had been his thing as long as he could remember. Sure, he could hardly string a sentence together when he spoke to Claudia not so long ago, (Gods, was it really only three years?), but he’d since become accustomed to having the right words for the right situation. Carefully selected and arranged, they had the power to change hearts and minds. To quell conflicts. To bring about a lasting peace. It was one of the reasons Callum so vastly preferred writing to speaking, but he’d grown into his talent with the latter. Mostly, he realized, due to Rayla.
He couldn’t count the number of times he had gone on rants while the two of them had travelled together. At first on their journey into Xadia, when she’d groan and complain the moment she saw his mind turning something over. It was pointless, she knew, but the exasperated “No more long speeches!” had become as much a part of the routine as the rant itself.
Later on, she’d tell him it was one of the things that drew her to him. The furrow of his brow, the passion in his voice. It all came together to show her just how much he cared for what he said.
And the more she listened, the more he spoke. The more he spoke, the better he became. And eventually, she joined in. It took them years, but some of his best memories were of the two of them bantering back and forth over whatever topic he had picked out that day. His voice, constantly shifting and working his point across like a needle through thread. Rayla’s calmer, more confident, her accented tones sneaking through his case, poking holes, assassinating points. It was a dance to the two of them, and it served them well when it came to performing their duties as ambassadors between their peoples. But when it was just the two of them, weaving their eloquent voices through one another’s perspectives, it was as if the entire world fell away.
Callum looked down at the treatise and swore. Previously the first paragraph of an agreement intended to be signed between a human mining town and a band of Earthblood elves, the last “e” had trailed off into a familiar profile. The outline of a face fanned by a mane whose silky white he could see now. Moonlight had nothing on its luster, water nothing on its shine. Had he really drawn her so often that he could do it without thought?
But had it really been thoughtless? He distinctly recalled a focus to his reminiscence, focused less on the effects of their conversations and more on the way she had spoken. Her lips curled in, her eyes distant as she considered and then rebutted whatever he had said. Their conversations, so often held at night, granted firelight to his mind’s image.
His hand flew out, the shading coming almost subconsciously as he fell deeper into the twin wells of her amethyst eyes…
Suddenly focused. Hawk’s eyes caught upon prey and prepared to pounce. It was foolish to use that point. He had known from the moment it left his lips and like he knew she would, she had seized upon it, tearing that entire part of his case to shreds with a few carefully chosen words. He pulled back. Reconsidered. Then pressed forward. Another rebuttal already prepared. He had laid his trap, and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Her eyes had changed then as well, a light pink spreading across her cheeks…
Hard to replicate with black ink, but Callum had spent years working with little more than charcoals on their journeys. Even now, surrounded by the carefully organized supplies of the room he’d come to refer to as his office when he spent time at the castle, he enjoyed the challenge. The parchment the treatise was written on was hardly an ideal medium, but it wasn’t like he could use it for its intended purpose anymore. Now, where had he been…
His train of thought was interrupted by a noise that nearly had him out of his seat before he recognized its source. Half a rune drawn before him, the word already on his lips, Callum scowled at the laughing elf who’d snuck up on him.
“Ancients Callum, you often call down the storm’s wrath down upon your friends? ‘Oh, you can’t sneak up on me anymore Rayla, I know your step too well.’ What a load of nonsense, you got lucky just the once.”
The smirk on her face was, consistently, the most aggravating and the most stunning thing Callum could think of. He could do without the snark in her voice though. He had grown accustomed to the way she moved and, despite her lifetime of training, years spent together had given him something of a sense for knowing when she was trying to sneak up on him. He blamed the distraction of his art, as he often did, a distraction which had now seemed to have caught Rayla’s attention.
“Callum, is this the treaty you insisted on writing?”
He wilted a bit at that, drawing into himself as he followed her gaze to the piece of parchment on the desk. (She hadn’t really looked at it, had she?)
“Maybe.”
“In the grand course of events, it may be necessary for us to sacrifice individual comfort for the greater good, especially when that good is related to the growing peace between our two peoples… Yep, seems like your usual prose. Of course, I hardly think a drawing of me will do much to help reach an agreement over mining rights, fetching though I may be…”
Callum had grown used to Rayla’s latest brand of humor, though he’d never expected her to attempt flirtation to get under his skin. It was, in his opinion, a very low blow, which had prompted a response from her that still set his face burning when he thought about it. The only reason she’d kept to it was because of how effective it was, though he was certain she didn’t know why that was. Didn’t realize that every time she said something of the sort that it set his heart hammering, dried his mouth, and weakened his knees. But it was alright. Two could play at that game after all, and he wasn’t above throwing a few barbs back. In the moment, reveling in her blush, he could almost imagine that there was intention behind their words. That it wasn’t just another game they played. Another dance they wove with words.
“Well, maybe if we could work a fraction of your womanly charm into your everyday speech we wouldn’t have to deal with so many disgruntled men.” He teased, drawing himself up to her, scarce inches between them. He had to look slightly up to meet her eyes, a difference in height that she’d never let him live down. In his ceremonial robes, complete with the ridiculous boots they’d given him, they met eye-to-eye, but here, without any such aides, he was the shorter of the two. More so if you counted the horns. (She did, he didn’t.)
“What can I say Callum, maybe I just have a natural affinity for exposing the insecurities in otherwise full-of-themselves dignitaries.” Came her response, drawing forward. Closing distance. Eyes locked dangerously on his own, smirk widening.
“Or you’re just incredibly annoying and enjoy being a tease.”
“Is that what you think I’m doin’ Callum, teasing you?”
She drew closer then, all but flush to him. He backed away instinctively, his back caught against the resistance of his writing desk. One of her hands perilously close to his own as she placed them to either side of him as she leaned forward. Eight fingers grabbing the desk, boxing him in. Her face was close to his, too close. She continued, finally coming to a stop with her mouth at his ear.
“Because frankly, that’s just ridiculous…”
He could hear the sarcasm in her voice, all but feel the smirk that must have accompanied it. He leaned in himself, prepared to retort, when he heard the door to his chambers open, a familiar voice accompanying the entrance.
“Callum, have you seen Bait anywhere. He and I were playing hide and seek, but I haven’t seen any glowing tapestries around the north side of the castle, so I came here next and… Oh. Oh boy. Uhm, you guys seem busy so I’m just going to… go. Yeah, go!”
Callum barely had time to turn to look, just enough to see Ezran’s form disappear around the corner before he was falling forward. Rayla, leaning against him like she did, had been supporting him, and when she had hurried to disengage herself at the sound of Ezran’s voice, she had taken that support with her. Sprawled on the floor, face burning like he was staring into an oven, Callum could only watch as her eyes darted to his, her face looking like his felt, and then to the door.
“Ray wait, it’s no big de-“ He began to say.
But she was already gone, the door slammed shut behind her, leaving Callum lying on the floor, trying desperately to understand what had happened.