“Why do you have boobs?” Ridley stared over at Jedd, suddenly, loudly breaking the silence.

“Because I’m a woman. My name’s Yelgameesh. Jedd’s my asshole brother.” She shrugged.

“That only gives me more questions.” Ridley frowned.

Yelgameesh sighed and rested her head on her knees as she began the story.

She had woken up one morning to clattering metal. Her twin brother, Jedd, had had her best sword in his arms, and an undoubtably guilty expression when she sat up.

“What are you doing?” She had asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Nothing!” Jedd had chirped in his lying voice, then bolted out the door. Yelgameesh hadn’t even changed out of her nightgown before chasing him through the streets, her long hair poofing out behind her. By the time she’d caught up to him, he was on a stage in the town center, next to the king and a few other smiths. There had been a crowd gathered to watch as the king tested the weapons. Despite her rage, she had been rather proud to see her blade pass all the tests. Then, when the king had asked Jedd about the runes carved into the side, she had seen her chance to tell everyone that no, that sword hadn’t been made by her brother. He couldn’t even make a good spoon, on the best days. But when he’d answered incorrectly, and she had climbed up onto the stage to tell the king the truth, Jedd crafted a story. He’d told the king that he’d asked Yelgameesh’s help with the runes, and that she must have given the wrong ones.

The king had known how awful of a smith Jedd was, of course. But he had taken one look at the girl in her wrinkled nightgown, her frizzy brown hair all over the place… And he had declared that Jedd was telling the truth. He proclaimed that Jedd won the contest, and that he was to come with him to Stelloise.

“I’ve always wan’ed ta travel,” Yelgameesh scowled, “Ta see diff’rent things, work as a smith in other places… But no one ever accepted that I’m good ‘nough… And then Jedd did that… Said my weapon was ‘is, and got ta go on an adventure? No.”

“So… How come you’re here, then? And not your brother?” Avaeon asked.

Yelgameesh smiled bitterly. “Well, soon as it was announced that Jedd was gonna go with tha king, I ran to my friend’s house. Got ‘im to cut my hair like Jedd’s. By tha time I got home, Jedd was ‘bout ta leave. So, I knocked ‘im out, got dressed in ‘is clothes, an’ met tha king as ‘im…”

“I just thought you were rafhen…” Decian shrugged.

“Ye thought I was what now?” Yelgameesh furrowed her eyebrows.

“Rafhen… The third gender?” This earned the nocten more blank stares. “Basically, anyone who doesn’t identify as a man or a woman? I thought you were a man who’d been born as a woman, and that’s why you bound your chest…”

“Wait, ya knew?!” Yelgameesh gasped.

Decian shrugged, “I mean… In the mornings, before you bound your chest, I could see… I mean, I just… Your chest looked the same way Brabil’s does on the days he doesn’t wrap his own.”

“Wait, what?” Isgellian’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Decian frowned.

“What do you mean Brabil? Not… King Brabil, surely?”

“Yes, king Brabil. He’s rafhen. You… didn’t realise?” Decian cocked an eyebrow at the elf.

“No, I just… Just thought he was… Small. Not every man is square and curveless.” Isgellian wrapped his arms around his own small waist, tucking into himself. “You nocten are strange, anyway.” He scowled.

Irritation fluttered in Decian’s chest. “Yes, well at least we accept others as they are.” He said, but took a breath. He would keep his head, today. He had already decided that. He had to keep his word about it at least once.

The prince didn’t even respond to that. He just shrugged one shoulder and looked back to the fire.

After that, the five ate a quick breakfast and packed up before continuing on their way. As they travelled, though, the strangest thing happened.

Isgellian smiled at Avaeon.

Not only that, but the prince didn’t correct Yelgameesh’s grammar once. She managed to retell an entire story about a human king that ruled a few decades ago without one bitter remark. Or, at least, not from the elf.

Ridley, however, had groaned, and claimed that she’d told the story completely wrong.

“He didn’t charm his way into the princess’ heart! He begged the king not to make him marry her. The two hated each other.” Ridley scoffed.

“What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout? Of course they loved each other, they had ta live in a tower t’gether for like a month before the bandits came! They got ta know each other, fell in love, an’ got married…” She pouted.

“They were forced to live in a tower, got to know each other, fell into deeper hatred, and were forced to marry because the king was an idiot and a drunk. Plus, he hadn’t even entered the contest, he’d been made to. It’s how I got my broken nose.”

“What?” Yelgameesh frowned.

“Nothing.” Ridley smirked.

“Whatever… I like mine better.” Yelgameesh huffed, crossing her arms.

“Well, I know mine’s the true version. I was there.” Ridley rolled his eyes.

Yelgameesh barked a laugh at that, “Oh come on! Ya can’t a been there, yer… What, twenny sev’n? Actually, how old are ya?”

“I’m precisely three thousand and two years old, eleven months, thirty days. My birthday’s tomorrow.” He grinned wickedly and winked at the dwarf before stooping down to pluck a flower. He fell back to walk next to Isgellian and held the plant out to him. “What’s this called, and what does it do?”

The elf’s face went red. The flower was actually two, blooming from the same stem. “I-It is called Volen’s flower, and from—” Ridley was grinning, stifling a laugh, “From the look on your face, you know what it does!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

“I want you to tell me, anyway.” Ridley snickered.

Isgellian’s cheeks went redder. “I will only tell you if you tell us how old you are.”

“Deal.”

“It… When it’s handled properly, and ingested, it… Gives men an erection.” Isgellian mumbled. “But if it is not handled properly it is very poisonous.” He added the last part hastily, before the human could get any ideas.

Ridley’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. “Wait, really?” He laughed loudly.

“You didn’t know?!” Isgellian gasped, going redder, “Wh-What did you think it does?!”

Ridley giggled, and brought the stem of the flower to his lips. He blew into it, and what sounded like moans echoed through the still trees.

Decian watched, not cracking a smile once, though he thought Isgellian’s reaction, his entire face burning red, was rather hilarious. He was determined to keep his promise to himself. Professionalism. He was determined to represent the nocten soldiers well at least one day.

“W-Well! A deal is a deal. How old are you?” Isgellian huffed, crossing his arms.

“Twelve years old.” Ridley beamed. He blew into the flower again before tossing it aside.

“I meant how old are you actually, not how old you act.” Isgellian grumbled.

“In that case, I’m two.” The human laughed, falling into step next to Avaeon.

For the rest of the day, he told the satyr jokes, and stories. At one point, Decian came up to walk next to Isgellian. The prince hadn’t been cruel to the others, all day, after all. Maybe he could let himself loosen up a bit, and actually join in the conversation.

However, Prince Isgellian just looked at him with a frown. “What do you want?” He sneered.

Decian was silent for a moment, staring at him blankly. What? “Nothing.” He fell back again, instead.

When they were setting up camp for the night, Isgellian laughed at a joke Ridley told. It was a soft, restrained laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. But even though the elven prince seemed to be warming up to the others, he rolled his eyes whenever Decian said anything, even if it was something as simple as, “I’ll be back in a while.”

The nocten sighed quietly to himself as he walked into the forest. He needed time to himself, so he wandered slowly. Why was the prince being kind to everyone but him? He couldn’t help but think it was because of his race, which frustrated him even more. "Damned elf…" He muttered as he climbed into a tree with low-lying branches. He pulled off his shirt, and brought his wings out, sighing in relief as he stretched them out. He sat up there for a while, thinking of home. He thought of Deme, and Firaine, and Krenn… He couldn’t help but wonder if the jaguars had fled from the deep wood. Or if any of the other beasts had. He wondered what Deme was doing… But no matter what he thought of, his mind kept returning to one thing. He wanted to fly. Sitting in a tree with his wings out wasn’t enough. He wanted to use them. But he couldn’t. With a sigh, he climbed down from the tree, and wandered around some more. It was easier to stretch his wings on the ground. There was more space.

Part of him wanted to just go back to the camp like that, to grab the shirt Deme had snuck into his pack. It was one of his backless shirts, bright blue, and very soft. He smiled softly at the thought of the elf’s reaction to his wings. He would be shocked, that much was certain. They all would.

But when Decian returned to camp that night, he was wingless and fully clothed.

“Did you have a nice wander?” Yelgameesh asked, yawning.

“Yes, thank you.” Decian nodded and sat down on his bed roll. He looked over to Isgellian, who was unwrapping his arm. “How is it? The wound?” Decian asked softly.

Isgellian glared at him. “It is healing well, no thanks to you.” He huffed.

“No need to be rude, I was just asking… I do feel bad for harming you, you know?” Decian frowned.

“I’m fairly certain we have been over this before, nocten. Or have you forgotten?” The prince sneered.

“Be nice.” Yelgameesh glowered at the elf. “Yer not bein’ a prick ta the rest ‘f us, why him?”

“The rest of you aren’t brutish nocten.” Prince Isgellian huffed, beginning to wrap his arm again.

“Are ya kidd—”

“Don’t, Yelgameesh. He isn’t worth my anger, nor yours.” Decian sighed and laid down with his back to them before he could say anything else. Nothing else was said on the subject.

The next morning, Decian woke up to see Yelgameesh fiddling with a couple small twigs by the fire. He was too tired to question her. He was too hot, too. His long sleeved, black turtleneck wasn’t the best for travelling in the wider forest as it was, even with the cloudy skies they’d been blessed with. But that morning when he woke, the sun was already shining bright through the leaves, which were sparser there, now that they were approaching the edge of the prairies again. He sat up with a little groan and ran his fingers through his hair. It stuck to the back of his neck. I think I hate sunlight, he thought bitterly to himself. But then he remembered the blue shirt in his pack.

He grabbed the bag, beginning to search through it for the shirt he’d let sink to the bottom. It was high collared, but had no sleeves, and the back was wide open for his wings. He glanced around at the others, who were also just starting to wake up. None of them were paying him any attention, but what if they did? What would he say if any of them questioned the massive scars on his back?

He decided he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted relief from the heat. Why did the prophecy have to come true in the middle of the summer?

Decian peeled his shirt off and pulled on the blue one quickly. He stuffed his uniform shirt, and father’s cloak back into his pack before looking to the others again. Yelgameesh raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, ya own colours.” She commented. “It looks nice. Makes yer eyes look more orange than red.” She added with a smile, unfazed by the many scars covering his arms, though she’d already seen them before.

“Thanks…” Decian mumbled, pulling his hair back. He clipped it up with the crow skull before finally standing and stretching.

“Wh-What happened to your arms?” Avaeon asked softly from where he was rolling up his bedroll. “Did… Did you get those from monsters?”

Decian looked over to him and shook his head. “No. I got most of them during training.” He said with a shrug.

“You really meant it when you said you don’t show each other mercy, huh?” Ridley added. He looked impressed and concerned at the same time. “Remind me never to duel you.”

The only one who didn’t comment was Isgellian, who busied himself with braiding his hair back. He looked like he was in a foul mood again. When he rose to his feet, he winced and groaned.

“Not used to travelling long distances, huh?” Decian asked, meaning it as a show of sympathy, the expression written clearly on his face.

“I’m fine.” Isgellian snapped, glaring at him. “I’ve walked on worse than sore feet, just leave me five damned minutes to work through it in peace!”

Decian blinked, stunned. The happiness he’d gotten from Yelgameesh’s compliment quickly fading. “I didn’t mean it that way.” His almost-smile returned to a scowl.

“Sure, you didn’t.” Isgellian rolled his eyes. He straightened his posture, and his expression.

Decian just reminded himself that he needed to keep a level head around Isgellian.

The task would prove more difficult than expected.