Evening fell upon Meridian, a blanket of shadows now draping the city as the sun disappeared over the horizon. Avad, Sun-King of the Carja, loved this time of the day most of all, in spite of the almost blasphemous connotations behind such an admission. Whenever the solar disk would start to make its final descent, the petitioners and courtiers who would pester him throughout the day would finally make themselves scarce, giving the young monarch a gladly received moment of peace. In the hours preceding the coming of the night, Avad could finally be himself: not the earthly incarnation of a god, not the figurehead of an entire people's religious belief… just an ordinary man, with a flesh heart thumping against his ribcage in a steady, reassuring manner.

On nights like these, Avad enjoyed eating a late supper on his balcony. The spot offered him a wide view of the distant plateaux to the north of Meridian, and so for the brief span of his dinner the king could mercifully see something other than the ruin and desolation that had been wrought upon the capital of his realm one month ago. The stone buildings erected on the mesa had survived the Shadow Carja's assault mostly unscathed, but the poorer quarters and the docks below had suffered highly when the terrifying machines under HADES' command had come to slaughter and main Avad's people. A raging inferno had swept through the Maizelands, burning a part of the yearly harvest, to the distress of many. And scattered across the distance the funeral pyres still sent puffs of dark smoke toward the evening sky. Every gaze Avad took toward his beloved city was a sore reminder of all the horrors his people had endured lately.

And of course, there was this chasm ripping his heart open, in the place where a spunky, scrappy Oseram woman had once made herself a home. Ersa was dead and buried miles away from here, in the village where she had been born, but every night the sound of her screams visited Avad's nightmares. And every morning he woke up in his bed with an acute awareness of the empty place beside him.

But Avad could not let his grief show. To the outside world, Ersa had been the captain of his personal guard, nothing more. Worse still, to his court she'd been an Oseram, an uncivilized heathen who had all but wormed her way into his good graces. Even in death their stations and cultures separated them like a gaping maw. Avad's beloved had been brutally murdered, and yet the world around him forbade him from mourning her properly, urging him to forget she had ever existed.

And so whenever he looked at his city, seeing and hearing his people mending their lives and building something anew out of the ashes of their old existences, Avad was filled with a hatred unlike anything he'd ever felt.

Avad hid this rancor under smiles and speeches about the Sun-given strength of the Carja people. But every day it built up a little more, every day it threatened to spill out. Every day his subjects came up to him as he sat on his father's throne, asking and pleading and begging for his help—and every day Avad hated a little more how alone he would feel amidst the sea of people ganging up to him.

He was sure he would have gone mad if it wasn't for Erend faithfully standing by his side through all of this grueling ordeal.

For this reason, Avad had thought to invite him to share his supper. Erend usually left his post around sunset, but tonight he'd stayed at the palace longer, coordinating the arrival of several new recruits who would replace those among his men who had died in the fight against the corrupted machines. The king had noted the deep purple bags that had formed below his friend's eyes, he'd seen how pale Ersa's brother had gotten, he'd realized how snappy and morose his new Captain of the Vanguard had grown. Just like Avad, Erend was torn between fulfilling the duties that had been put before him and throwing everything away just for a chance to devote all of his energy to grieve his sister's passing. Still, over the past month Avad's old war comrade had remained nothing but dutiful, in a clear contrast to the week he'd spent drunk out of his mind when Ersa had first gone missing. Avad was proud of his friend—and a little envious, to tell the truth.

Avad was ready to undertake his supper when a servant announced Erend's arrival. The king could see the bewilderment on his friend's face as the latter was escorted to the royal table. Avad then dismissed his servants and guards, leaving the two of them to be undisturbed.

Erend stood stiffly on his spot, frowning. "Uh, good evening, sire," he began, scratching the back of his head. "Was there something you needed me to do?"

"What?" Avad said, rising from his chair. "Oh no, I simply thought we had some catching up to do." He motioned to the seat across from him. "Please sit down, Erend. I had your favorite meal prepared just for you."

Erend glanced down at the table. A plate of wild boar meat, smoked to perfection, was waiting for him. He quirked a brow before sliding in his chair, looking even more puzzled than before. "Thanks, I guess? Seriously, what's the occasion, sire?"

Avad interlaced his hands together, suddenly uneasy. It had been two years since he'd ascended to his throne, yet it was still very surreal to hear Erend speak so formally. During the Liberation, he and Ersa had delighted in finding odd (and sometimes demeaning) nicknames for the prim, demure Carja prince Avad had been back then.

"I told the truth earlier," the young king said. "I only wanted to spend time with you." An awkward silence followed. Avad managed a weak little smile, pointing to the jug next to Erend's plate. "I thought a bottle of scrappersap would go well with your meal. It was a gift from one of your ealdormen when the peace treaty between our two tribes was signed. I never found the opportunity to open it."

"Yeah, sure," Erend said, giving a lopsided grin. "Rather you didn't want to drink it because you think it tastes awful,"

Avad let out a chuckle. "Ah, you saw right through me. Guilty as charged."

"So, what, you brought me here 'cause you wanted to drink?"

"In part. I thought we both needed to unwind, if only for a few hours."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, huh?" Erend dragged the jug toward him, giving it a critical appraisal. "Then, let's open this baby, shall we? We'll see if that ealdorman's got good taste."

Avad forced himself to keep smiling. The times he had drunk scrappersap had left only vague, unpleasant memories. Ones that included excessive laughter on the part of Ersa. "O-Of course," he said. "Lead the way."

The morning after, Avad had come to a decisive conclusion: he would drink fruit wine the next time he would invite Erend over to dinner.

A few days later, and Erend was heading for the king's lavish rooms yet again, dragging his steps behind.

Avad had enthusiastically suggested that they spend at least one evening together every week in order to swap stories over a drink or two. Usually, that sort of things would be right up Erend's alley—hell, what kind of Oseram warrior would he be if he wasn't?—but lately other concerns had been on his mind.

Namely, the fact that Avad's simple demand could be all that it would take for Erend to stumble over the edge and become something he utterly despised.

When he'd been young and dumb and impressionable (okay, he was still kinda the latter two, to tell the truth), Erend had sworn to his sister that he would never develop the loathsome habit that had plagued so much of their father's life. After all, their old man's drinking problem had been the insidious poison that had all but destroyed the cohesion of their clan, leaving the two siblings as pariahs in their own family for much of their childhoods. Back then, Ersa had smiled at her little brother's earnestness, saying she wholeheartedly believed in him.

She had been unusually naïve on that point. Because the moment she'd been ripped out of his life, Erend had drunk himself to a stupor rather than pick up the slack as was expected of him.

It was with this downcast train of thoughts running through his head that Erend joined the king at his table.

Avad had already uncorked a bottle of fruit wine, and he greeted Erend with a wide smile, swaying slightly in his seat. Erend slumped down in the other chair, sighing.

"You look tired, my friend," Avad began. "Perhaps I overwork you."

"Nah, it's fine," Erend replied. He looked at Avad with raised brows as the latter pushed a mug toward him. It was filled with a frothy beverage that could only be Mainspring-brewed mead. Erend's lips curled into an indolent grin. "So, no scrappersap for you tonight, sire?"

"Sun in heavens, no! I would not have a repeat of last week's mishap."

Erend rolled his eyes. "I've done worse things while sober."

"But I've ruined that poor carpet," Avad said. "I think it was commissioned by my great-grandfather."

"Yeah, well, all things considered, it was to be expected. Didn't think you would start chugging all that booze, heh."

Avad pinched his mouth, all but ignoring the hint of praise in Erend's tone. "Such a beautiful work of artisanship too. What a pity. At least dear Itamen does not know his elder brother has made such a fool of himself. Nasadi would never let me hear the end of it otherwise."

"C'mon, it was an accident, stop worrying so much." Erend brought the mug to his lips. Oddly enough, he did not gulp it down in one draft, as he would have in the past. Instead, he only sipped his mead carefully, as Avad filled his own cup with more wine.

"On that part, I'll follow your wise advice, I think," said the king.

"Wise, huh? Not a word that's usually associated with me."

His comment made Avad's smile return. "You sell yourself too short, my friend." After a moment, he added, "If you want anything, then just ask. You've been working so hard lately. You deserve every moment of rest you can get."

Erend peered at Avad from over his mug, his thick brows furrowing. The king had always been a friendly sort, but even for him that kind of self-effaced amiability was a bit unusual. After he'd been crowned, Avad had distanced himself from his war buddies, turning their previous camaraderie into a professional relationship of sorts. Erend had taken in stride, understanding perfectly well that the new ruler of the Carja Sundown could not be caught fraternizing with Oseram rabble.

"Hey, I won't disagree here," Erend answered. He put his drink aside for a moment, finally asking, "So, any reason why you'd want to waste any of your precious time on a lunkhead like me? I mean, you see my ugly mug every time you're holding court. Why aren't you tired of me yet?"

"What?" Avad said, blinking guilelessly. "Why would you think that? I told you, I want to spend time with you because you're my friend."

Oh boy, Erend thought. That was rather candid, for someone who spent his days navigating his way into the nest of vipers that was the Carja royal court. Maybe it's just the wine going to his head again. It was the most sensible explanation. "Yeah, well, you're my boss first, remember?"

Avad shook his head. "You misunderstand me, Erend. My ascent to the throne changed nothing. You were my friend before you were the captain of my personal guard." The king sighed, sinking back into his chair. "And if the Sun had been willing, you would have become family."

Erend was suddenly thankful he had not drunk a mouthful of mead prior to the king's admission; he was sure he would have spat it out right now. "W-What?"

"Your sister. I… I would have married her, if I had been able."

"Fire and spit…" The mention of Ersa was like a cold hand squeezing his heart; still, Erend could feel a humorless smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "I coulda been the Sun-King's brother-in-law. My nieces and nephews coulda been mini half-gods."

Avad paled. "Don't say that. I can't believe you would put any faith in that nonsense about me being a descendant of the Sun. I'm flesh and blood, same as you are." After a while, he muttered half to himself, "My father bled plenty when I stabbed him."

Erend winced, remembering the pathetic end of the thirteenth king of the Carja. The guy's corpse had stank of fear, piss and blood, shattering any semblance of godhood. "I know that. I'm Oseram, we don't believe in that load of bull."

"And I thank you for it. As least, someone has to treat me like the human I am. Your sister did, at least."

Erend looked away from Avad, his head filling with an unpleasant buzz that had nothing to do with the alcohol. "That must have been one of the reasons why you kept her around."

"Well, I hope that it was a choice of hers to stay," Avad said. "I'd hate to think she remained by my side only because she felt trapped by circumstances."

"She would have left if that's what she'd wanted," Erend replied with a shrug. He did not want to talk about his sister, not truly, but the words seemed to spill out of him of their own accord. "That's what happened back home, you know? Being treated like a second-rate citizen because she wasn't born with the right, uh, equipment was something of a sore spot for her, as you can imagine. So she took off with me as soon as she could to join a group of freebooters." Erend scoffed. "Soon, she was leading one of the best mercenary band around, and yet according to tradition she wasn't allowed to own propriety or work at the forge. No wonder she was so cranky all the time…"

"I wonder why our two cultures chose to treat women in such a manner," Avad mused. "The Nora and the Banuk obviously do not share our ideas when it comes to gender roles. Perhaps they are right on that point."

"Probably," Erend said. "The ealdormen back home at the Claim wouldn't know what to think of someone like that Nora War Chief, for one. Lady's fierce enough to bring down a Deathbringer with her bare hands, I'd say."

Avad gave a little chuckle before finishing his cup. "It's their loss." He poured himself another drink, raising it in a toast. "To all those wonderful ladies without whom we would not be here tonight." Two names in particular seemed to hang unspoken in the air. Still, Erend knew who the king had meant. "To strong women."

Erend mimicked his gesture, lifting his half-empty mug in the air. "Yeah. To strong women."

A/N: This is just me writing a couple of conversations between these two dorks and trying to weave a story out of it. Don't mind me OTL