A/N: Hello! I haven't used this site in six years but we'll see how this goes. Whetted Knife will update on Mondays and every update will range from 2.4-2.9k depending the time I have that week on writing. While I'm ahead on writing chapters, I don't know how long this streak will last.
While tagged as Gren/Amaya, I still haven't made a decision on whether it's Gren/Amaya or Janai/Amaya. Hope that doesn't cause too much confusion!
Cross-posted on Ao3 under the same name and username, so don't hesitate to say hello! Come follow me on my twitter and tumblr at cinnamnym.
General Amaya finds her sister in the spot she always does. The piece of parchment left on her desk - still closed with the uneven towers of Katolis' signa when her shift on the battlements was over - requested her presence at her earliest convenience.
Do not wait up, she had signed quickly to Lieutenant Gren. He had nodded her, wishing her goodnight as she shouldered a thicker, denser cloak and stepped back into the night.
She is glad, now. The wind nips at her nose and she buries her face further into the scratchy, warm folds.
It isn't hard to find her older sister.
Queen Sarai of the kingdom of Katolis stands tall on the battlements between two watchtowers, squinting out at the darkness that surrounds the castle.
She doesn't turn when Amaya approaches, although she knows her arrival is heard. Amaya halts within Sarai's peripheral, knowing her sister can see her even if she chooses not to acknowledge.
My queen, she signs after she bends at the waist before straightening. You summoned?
Sarai, after all, is her queen as much as she is her sister.
You know how I hate formalities, Sarai signs before turning back to the darkness. Stand, General.
Amaya watches her older sister closely.
She stands stiffly beneath her armor. Despite being queen, her sister does not fancy large gowns like their brother and sister kingdoms. It's more common to find Queen Sarai in trousers and a tunic than a corset, laced beneath her heavy armor than with skirts of tulle.
Behind her, her dark blue cloak flutters weakly in the wind that's coming off the mountains that surround their border. Sarai's hand is curled around her spear, gilded blades flashing in the fire.
Amaya doesn't have to look down to know the butt of the two-bladed spear is being dug into the stone. Her sister, while quiet, has always worn her heart on her sleeve.
Your Highness?
"There is a threat against King Harrow's life," Sarai says aloud. Despite being turned away, General Amaya can understand the movement of her sister's lips. Sarai has always enunciated for Amaya's sake, even after her younger sister no longer required it. "We received word yesterday. This stays between us, General."
Amaya nods, clamping her fist to her breastplate. What are your orders, Your Majesty?
Her older sister's face softens when she turns, lines of her face relaxing in the flickering firelight of the torches.
Amaya, she signs, stepping forward to lean her spear against the stone, this is not an order from your queen. This is a plea from your sister and a mother. I am entrusting you with the boys.
I don't understand, Amaya admits.
Sarai sighs.
War is coming, sister, Sarai signs. From inside her fur-lined fine gloves, her fingers are not freezing but her lungs are with the crisp air and the knowledge, and the boys are no longer safe here. We don't know the extent of the threat and when they intend to strike. But we do know they are not only coming for the king.
The crown prince, Amaya realizes with horror.
Sarai doesn't answer. Amaya doesn't need her reply to know. Her older sister is turned back to the night but Amaya sees the slump in her shoulders under her silver armor, the shallow rise beneath her breastplate.
Where will you have us go? Am I to proceed alone?
Her sister takes a deep breath in. Neither one comments on the tears that slide down Sarai's cheeks but are quickly dashed away.
Take someone you trust, Sarai signs. I know you'll choose Gren. I have supplies and two horses for you in the stables. You leave when the moon is highest. Everything else is explained in this. We don't have time for anything more.
Sarai's hand unearths from beneath her cloak as Amaya blinks. Tonight?
"You must," Sarai says urgently aloud, stepping closer to take Amaya's hands so she can't argue. Amaya doesn't dare to tear her eyes away from Sarai's face. "You must, Amaya. They aren't safe here but I know they'll be safe with you. You are their aunt and the strongest person I know. They are your nephews and the future of this kingdom. Please."
The parchment roll presses into her hand, beseeching.
Amaya's face tightens and she nods. In the next moment, Sarai pulls her into a hug and Amaya can feel the vibrations of 'I love you' being murmured into her neck.
Sarai pulls back. Keep them safe for me, Sarai signs and Amaya nods fiercely. She clasps her fist to her breastplate, bows.
I will not fail you, sister.
Sarai smiles tearfully and turns back to patrol. Amaya hesitates for only a moment, knowing there isn't much time and she has much to do.
First thing on her list is to wake Gren.
Amaya imagines the noise he makes when roused from sleep is like a low whine. In the almost-dark of his chambers, Gren blinks at her for a moment before bolting upwards, knowing that his commanding officer would only rouse him from sleep if the situation was immediate.
General Amaya?
Up, she orders. I will explain on the way. Dress for battle. Quiet.
Amaya is folding a tunic and trousers when Gren walks through. Their quarters are connected, as Lieutenant Gren is her interpreter and right-hand man.
Where she goes, he goes.
Gren clasps his hand above his heart, bows. Amaya waves him off, stuffing an extra cloak into her pack with a muffled grunt.
General Amaya, your orders?
No time for formalities, she signs quickly when she turns, slinging the pack over her shoulder. I trust you are packed?
Yes.
She nods. Follow me, Lieutenant. Stay close. Quiet. I'll explain later.
They travel in silence. Amaya knows their armor must be clinking as they make their way down the winding stairs of their quarters to the stables. It's a miracle they don't come across anyone, but Amaya has taken the servant's corridors for a reason.
For all his curiosity that Amaya can feel burning into her back, Gren does as she says.
Go directly to the stables, Sarai's letter had ordered when she unraveled the roll, the paper rough in her hands when she removed her gloves, broken the seal under the candlelight of her chambers. We will escort the boys from their chamber. Be hasty, sister. We do not have much time but there is much to do.
The stables are dim and still.
General Amaya motions for Lieutenant Gren to slow as she draws her shield. Gren does not carry his own weapon besides a dagger in his boot and at his side, his preferred weapon being her voice and will.
It is enough.
Firelight from the torches on the wall flutters and Amaya whirls, raises her shield, other arm reaching for her sword -
King Harrow steps from the third stall.
Her brother-in-law stands tall, impassive, but Amaya can see the circles beneath his brown eyes from many a sleepless night. Harrow's eyebrows raise at Amaya's drawn sword and she presses her lips together, inclining her head with respect as she sheathes it.
Harrow chuckles but it's humorless. He motions them forward and the two of them follow King Harrow out of the stables.
General Amaya sees the torches before anything else.
They round the corner of the stables to the back side. Amaya steps forward into the light to see Queen Sarai, kneeling.
Harrow approaching must alert her because she turns and Amaya can see Ezran, chest heaving with sadness, his ever-present glowtoad clutched to his chest. He's clad in a too-big cloak, thick and heavy.
Amaya suspects from a soldier's uniform.
She catches sight of Callum then, hand on his brother's shoulder from behind. They're both listening to whatever their mother is saying but they both look up when Sarai turns, alerted most likely by Amaya and Gren's armor.
Ezran's mouth forms her name and he looks concerned for a moment before Amaya kneels in time to catch him. She presses him into her, eyes closing, breathing in the scent of little boy and jelly tarts, the heady smell of the kitchens he so loves to sneak around in.
Sarai must have told him just enough that the young prince understood that he and his brother would be taking a trip with their aunt.
Ezran is young but perceptive. Amaya knows that he's aware something else is going on.
She looks up in time to see Gren half-bow to Callum, who nods solemnly. Amaya notes the death-grip on his sketchbook's strap on his shoulder, the tick of his pointer finger tapping against the leather.
He knows, then.
More than Ezran, at least. She can't gauge how much her sister has told him, though.
Ezran pulls back and she sends him the most reassuring smile she can before standing. Callum appears at his brother's side, says something under his breath.
He smiles hesitantly at his aunt before turning away. Hand on Ezran's shoulder, Callum gently steers them towards the two horses that Harrow is still packing saddlebags onto.
Amaya stands as Sarai approaches, her sister's eyes only on her sons. There is a deep sadness there, something below the surface. She knows her older sister isn't telling her everything.
Thank you, Sarai signs and Amaya is the one who pulls her close this time.
Her older sister trembles minutely in her arms and Amaya's heart breaks for her. She's queen and a warrior, the most equipped to keep her family safe yet in the face of an unknown threat, she's the most vulnerable.
Amaya's fingers curl in the soft of her sister's cloak. She resists the urge to bury her face in the cloth. She remembers these hugs, when the Queen was a Lady with a bastard son and iron fist against anyone who said anything vicious.
The princes may lose their mother tonight.
Amaya may lose her sister.
Keep them safe, please, Sarai begs when she pulls back, eyes intense, hands moving so quickly that Amaya can hardly keep up. Do whatever it takes to keep them alive.
She presses the last sentence into Amaya's breastplate as if she's digging them deep into her sister's skin, into her breast, to the organ beneath that beats warm and wild.
Amaya makes a promise so potent it rattles between her ribs, in the cracks between her armor where they click together.
You have my word.
The rest of the send-off happens with little fanfare. Ezran is wary but mostly excited, if not sleepy. After all, being pulled from bed this late into the night is not usual for the ten-year-old prince.
Amaya watches Callum closely as he straightens his shoulders and hugs the King. She knows his fears about the King, about calling him Dad - about loving him as much as Harrow loves him.
As much as Ezran loves Harrow.
It's written all over Callum's face when he pulls back from the short hug and Amaya can see the hurt in Harrow's eyes for a moment. As if his step-son is being ripped from him in more ways than one.
She knows Callum sees it too. Recognizes it.
Callum falls back into Harrow's arms nary a second later.
She thinks he must make a choking sound then, his body wracking for a moment when he buries his head in his father's shoulder.
Amaya looks away when Harrow's arms tighten around his son. Shorn beard pressing to Callum's ear, she sees his lips move but looks away.
Even watching is eavesdropping. Right before her eyes tear away, though, she sees Harrow press a roll of parchment into Callum's hands, his mouth forming the word promise.
Gren appears at her right, already saddled.
Destination, General?
Port, Amaya signs. We move quickly and quietly. You know as well as I that this isn't the normal op. Stay close, eyes open.
Gren nods as Callum walks up. Her eldest nephew wipes his nose on his sleeve, looks up at her.
She jerks her head, motioning for him to climb up.
With only the tiniest bit of trouble does he. Amaya scoots back on the saddle and Callum settles in front of her.
Ezran's smile stretches wide when Harrow's hug turns into a lift onto Gren's horse. Copying the General's move, Gren lets the crown prince sit in front of him. Bait is curled up in Ezran's lap.
Sarai appears, peppering Ezran's cheeks with kisses. While he squirms away at first, Ezran throws his arms around his mother's neck.
Amaya watches Sarai's back wrack with quiet sobs she knows that her sister is desperately trying to tamper down. She pulls back, face turned just enough that Amaya can see her mouth.
Sarai cups Ezran's cheeks.
"Goodbye, my boy," she says, lips wet with salt. Ezran looks confused, reaching out to wipe away some of her tears.
"Mom?"
"I love you," she says insistently and he smiles cautiously, in the way kids do when they don't know what's going on but want everything to be okay.
"I love you too, Mom."
Amaya bites her lip when new tears roll down Sarai's cheeks. She can't bear to look away, not now. She needs to know the severity of the situation and knows only Sarai's reaction will tell her.
When Sarai turns fully, her eyes are red and swollen. Amaya watches Harrow embrace his son as well, sees the sadness in Gren's eyes.
Ezran doesn't know. Gren and Amaya's gazes meet.
He never will.
Sarai comes to a halt barely inches from Amaya's mare's flank. She looks up at Callum, already on the saddle, smiles wobbily. "Breathe," she says softly, lips pursing and Callum's shoulders go lax. "Breathe, darling. It'll be okay."
Amaya averts her gaze but can feel the vibrations of Callum's response. "Mom?"
It's uncertain.
"Take care of your brother," Sarai instructs, wrapping her eldest son in her arms. "Listen to your aunt and Gren. They will keep you safe no matter what."
"I will do my best," Callum promises steadily and Amaya can feel the determined beat of his heart behind his breastbone.
Sarai swallows a sob. "We will see each other again," she murmurs. "I believe that."
Both of them are crying now but Sarai steps away, stands tall, nods to Amaya.
General Amaya of the Standing Batallion nods back. The parchment roll in her cloak burns as Gren draws up beside her.
It's time to go.
It's silent but they know this may be the last time they see each other. It's a slap in the face that Amaya can't recover from. She wants to throw her arms around her older sister, cry as loud as she wants though she can't hear it, sign everything she's ever wanted to say into Sarai's hands.
Sarai's eyes hear her though Amaya's fingers don't move.
There's understandng there. It kills Amaya.
She nods back.
As Amaya draws up the reins and clicks her heels against the horse's flank, she remembers the tears dripping down her sister's cheeks when they pulled back from their hug. Amaya remembers how she rested her forehead against Sarai's.
How the cold of Sarai's circlet pressed into her skin, reminding her of her duty to these boys. So much more than her nephews but her princes.
Her responsibility.
Amaya raises her hand in a goodbye and Sarai's shoulders shake when she lifts her own hand in the same motion. Harrow's hand settles around her shoulders and he looks on, quiet acceptance and grief dancing behind the kindness in his eyes that Sarai had fallen for.
Then they're off.
It doesn't escape Amaya's notice how Callum keeps looking back until the forest swallows up the sight of his mother and stepfather. Until the castle fades from view, until the fire of the torches around the battlements and the sound of the horns that signal shift change sound.
Gren stops perking up every so often. Amaya draws her own conclusions.
They all ride in silence for about two hours.
In the midst of both watching their surroundings and keeping an eye on Gren, Ezran asleep against his chestplate, Amaya almost misses the movement of Callum's fingers.
At first she thinks it's another nervous tick but catches again.
She knits her eyebrows. Again, my boy.
Callum doesn't look up at her, just straight ahead into the darkness. The scarf around his neck, underneath the thick cloak Sarai had draped around his shoulders before pulling him into a bruising hug, stirs in the wind.
We won't see them again, will we?
Amaya has never been able to lie to Callum. She signs quickly.
I don't know, she says honestly. She tries to keep the movement of her fingers from Ezran's sight, knowing that while he's shaky, he still knows enough sign language to understand the bare bones. It is my hope that you will be together again one day but it's for your safety.
They're coming to kill Ez and Harrow.
Callum's hand quivers when he signs Harrow, starting the beginning of dad before changing to his name. It's not a question, though.
The thought raises a lump in Amaya's throat.
I don't know. Your mother trusted me to keep you and your brother safe. I promise I will do everything in my power to bring you two home to your parents when the time is right.
I know you will.
They both don't mention how Sarai entrusting the boys to Amaya means the threat is at least legitimate to a fault. If the alarm was false, they wouldn't have been sent off with the one person who would sacrifice body and soul for their wellbeing.
Callum doesn't speak for the rest of the time.