“But I don’t understand,” Fawkes frowned, “If they aren’t all  bad, then why do we have to hunt them?”

Jo huffed, ready to move on to any topic that got her off of the same one they’d been on for the entirety of the day, “I don’t know, boyo. It’s a linguistic thing, because most of the time it’s not really hunting. It’s...well, maybe ask Emrys later on.”

The thought tickled Fawkes, as he could sense how thin he’d pressed Joanna’s nerves, picturing the same scenario with Emrys would be far easier, if nothing else, “I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

Fawkes could sense Joanna restrain herself. They hadn’t known each other all that long, but he already felt bizarrely...attuned to her.

Perhaps it was how open she was. He wasn’t entirely sure, but either way he liked it.

He decided against his better judgement to press her, mostly because there wasn’t much else they could discuss and she seemed to not be in the mood to teach, “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” She asked, looking back with a twinkle in her eye before turning her gaze back to the path ahead, “Trust me, you’d know if he didn’t like you.”

“Really?” Fawkes said, peeking over her shoulder to look at their new topic of conversation, who was quite a ways ahead on the woodland path, taking the briefest of moments to notice how oddly natural Emrys seemed in this environment, with the cold biting the air and the trees forsaking their leaves. As though he were some harbinger of the winter itself, “Tell me what’s it like when he hates someone? He certainly could have fooled me.”

“Well, for starters, he doesn’t just try to talk to you, he also makes an effort to look at you.” Jo said quietly, as though the other boy would be able to hear from so far away.

“Does he...not normally look at people?” Fawkes asked, a mix of genuine curiosity and something far less tangible settling in his chest.

He watched as Jo’s shoulders tensed a bit, “Not particularly.”

Fawkes could feel he may be intruding into a conversation that he shouldn’t be a part of, but he couldn’t stop himself. Especially when there was something that he wanted, “Why not?”

“He’s not…” Jo swallowed, weighing her words carefully, “He isn’t very good with people. So if he doesn’t go out of his way to avoid you, it means more than it would for most. Doubly so if he actually makes it a point to initiate conversation. It only becomes antagonistic because he doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing as a whole, poor bastard.”

Fawkes hummed as the words settled in. He knew that shouldn’t be cute, nor should he be as flattered as he currently found himself, though it was easy to ignore as the curios voice in his head was still screaming, “So...is there a reason? That he’s so bad with people, I mean.”

“Does anyone need a reason?” Jo replied somewhat defensively, “Sometimes people are just bad at things.Sometimes people just...missed a particular day of class and it was an important one. So go easy on them while they’re catching up, boyo. Emrys has been through a lot, sure, but we all have.”

Fawkes huffed in disappointment, “That was an awfully long roundabout way to avoid an answer.”

“I wasn’t avoiding anything,” Jo snickered, “I was simply saying that I don’t think the tragic backstory is what makes Emrys bad with people, though arguably I doubt that it helped.”

“So...he has a tragic backstory?” Fawkes continued to press.

Jo flustered, looking back at Fawkes in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. A reaction he was quite accustomed to.

“I’m just having some fun.” He said before Jo could interject, “I’m sure once we’re the best of friends he’ll tell me all about it himself. ”

“Best of friends?” Jo let out a hearty laugh, “That’s ripe. I like it.”

Fawkes felt heat brush his cheeks, “What? You don’t think we’ll be best friends someday?” He pouted dramatically.

“No, I just didn’t assume your intentions to be so ...pure.” Jo smirked, “Still don’t.”

Fawkes paused, tearing his eyes away from the sight down the path to look at Jo, who’s current expression was scrutinous, to say the least.

“A wise assumption, but I’m not some sort of monster, you know.” Fawkes grinned, “Not all the time, at least. Call me a romantic, but I like to get to know a guy on occasion.”

He could tell that she rolled her eyes, but she seemed much more relaxed now than she had a moment ago, “Well...tread lightly regardless. That boy is like an extension of my own soul, you know. I’m quite a bit protective of him, not that he can’t handle himself of course.”

“Whatever you are to him, he’s lucky to have you.” Fawkes smiled, oddly melancholic. He knew it was because he wished he had something like that, someone like that, to care for him without asking anything in return.

He hadn’t really put himself in a position to have genuine friendships before, though, so he supposed now that he was technically in exile perhaps now he could.

“Fate has a funny way of building families for people who need them.” Jo said absently, nudging Fawkes with her elbow as she pointed at a spire up ahead, “We’re here, by the way.”

Fawkes looked up excitedly at the building protruding from the forest ceiling, a bright silver spire peeking itself out of treetops.

The rush of excited curiosity silenced him as they made their way down the path and up to a large gate, a gate of black iron and ivy ,woven together as though intentionally, greeted them as they rounded a corner.

He watched as Emrys waved a hand upwards, whether in some motion of magic or saluting someone he could not see, Fawkes could not be certain, and the gate slowly swung open.

Jo hopped down from her horse, motioning for Fawkes to do the same as he cast a glance in the direction of their third member, who was now making his way down the path farther.

They stepped onward down the cobblestone path as Fawkes took in the entryway to Elderwood. It seemed to be as much a part of the forest as the forest itself, buildings forming around trees, as opposed to the other way around. As he looked ahead, Fawkes noticed that the closer one got to the castle, the less that seemed to be the case. The village much more conventional in appearance once past the first few streets.

There was no doubt in his mind, however, that no matter where he’d been or where he was going, he would never find a place more beautiful than this one.

Jo stopped off several times to make light conversation as they approached the castle, seemingly not a single stranger to her lived in Elderwood. Fawkes couldn’t help but be impressed, especially considering the fact that he’d lived a great deal of his life in one singular building and could remember the names of two or three people at best.

As she stepped away from a particularly jolly fellow, she tossed a sweet roll at Fawkes.

He blinked in shock, taken aback from the sudden gesture, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I didn’t.” She shrugged, the motion bringing Fawkes’ attention to the wad of rolls she seemed to think she was hiding in her coat, “Ham always gives me free rolls.”

Fawkes paused, but let his curiosity get the better of him, “I’m sorry, Ham?”

“Yeah,” Jo grinned with a mouthful of bread, little crumbs spraying as she spoke, “It’s a bit of a funny inside bit. See, he’s twin brothers with Biscuit.”

“Someone willingly named their children Ham  and Biscuit?” Fawkes said, absolutely enthralled by the idea.

“No, fool.” Joanna seemed to think the story was going in a much more obvious direction than it ever could, “Those are nicknames. I can’t tell him and his brother apart, so I thought to myself ‘if I confuse them, I’ll remember in the process”, because I always remember my bits, you know. So I named the butcher Biscuit, and the Baker Ham.”

Fawkes laughed gleefully, “Where on earth does that leave the candlestick maker, then?”

“He’s not a twin, and he’s older than even I.” Jo grinned, “So I can’t forget Eustace. Meanwhile, if it wasn’t for the stupid nicknames I probably still wouldn’t know who Ham or Biscuit even was.”

Fawkes nodded, “I must admit, I won’t forget them now either. And I forget a lot of things.”

“If not for the whole exile thing, you’d have been a wonderful king.” Joanna said sarcastically, making work of the next sweet roll as she did, “How much longer do I have to know you before I can ask about that, by the way?”

“What?” Fawkes sheepishly tucked his hands into his pockets, “The unsuccessful assassination? Could’ve asked days ago, if you wanted. I’m not good with secrets.”

“That explains the unsuccessful bit.” Jo snickered. Fawkes rolled his eyes as she continued speaking after taking another bite of her bread, “No, I meant...the whole royalty thing. I… have seen and done quite a bit in my time, but haven’t had much experience with royalty. At least not as a ward of whom I can bombard with questions, respect for your title be damned to the wind!”

Jo turned to walk backwards, facing Fawkes with a grin, “So what was it like, boyo? You seem relatively well adjusted to have been born with a shiny spoon up your arse.”

“Isn’t the phrase “silver spoon”?” Fawkes asked, trying not to laugh at her excitement, which was a sort of genuine he wasn’t quite accustomed to.

“Silver is shiny, innit?”

“Fair enough,” Fawkes laughed, “But I certainly wouldn’t argue for my well-adjustment, given the current circumstances ...Though admittedly I would much rather be here.”

Jo choked on her bite of bread in surprise, “What? You’d rather be in exile?”

“Of course!” Fawkes defended, a part of him enjoying having genuinely confused Joanna, “At least any prison out here has the decency to tell you that it’s a prison. There’s nothing appealing about living your life confined to a place where no one genuinely knows you and you’re powerless to stop everything that you see happening, while you’re forced to watch it all happen with a big smile on your face like the people there aren’t all fucking monsters... “

Fawkes paused and swallowed, realizing that perhaps this was a discussion for another time, Joanna’s focused gaze doing the precise opposite of easing his nerves, “I mean, it wasn’t all bad. I got whatever I wanted, but...that’s all just stuff.”

“Everyone likes stuff.” Joanna said, her tone bizarrely gentle despite Fawkes being well aware she was probably just prodding him.

“Sure,” He replied, “But I never wanted stuff. I wanted people.”

Jo stopped, staring up at him a moment before reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully, “Aren’t you surprisingly pure?”

Fawkes frowned dramatically, “You keep saying stuff like that like you assume me some pompous wad.”

“You are some pompous wad.” She grinned, “But...not all that bad.”

“Gee, thanks.” Fawkes mumbled as Jo turned on her heel and set back to making her way to the castle. He tried to look offended, but anyone who paid attention could practically see the warmth pooling in his chest.

While he hadn’t regretted it in the first place, Fawkes was growing almost grateful of his failed attempt of ridding the kingdom of the Augustine. It was something he had viewed as a necessary evil, but it wasn’t something he’d expected to in turn provide him with friendships or genuine human connection.

At best, he’d expected exile if he failed. Although he’d assumed actual exile and not being forced to a team of demon hunters, which now that he thought about it was perhaps ignorant on his part. Joining the peacekeepers was sort of the common punishment for unspeakable crimes.

Well, that or death.

Looking back, if he were being honest, that was actually what he was hoping for. Whether he’d succeeded or failed, success being the intended result of course, he’d sort of hoped to be taken down in the fray.

He hadn’t had anything else to live for. No purpose, no direction, just... anger.

Joining the peacekeepers may actually provide him with purpose.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.