Disclaimer:I don't own anything!

Author's Note: The last week of summer…I'm currently wondering where the time went and what the hell I was doing with all of it.

Had a strange afternoon HBO-athon, which is just watching a string of movies that happen to be on HBO. Rambo, Beetlejuice, Whole Ten Yards and When In Rome. A good mix of stuff.

-/-/-/-

Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence.
~David Byrne

-/-/-/-

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help to you." Martel said, walking with Yuan along the beach. They could still see the campfire from here and, sometimes, Yuan imagined they could see the lights of the capital on the horizon, though according to Kratos, they still had a good two or three weeks travel until they reached it.

"It's fine. Your coaching was actually the first I've ever gotten in terms of magic." Yuan stayed well away from the waves gently lapping at the shore. Martel didn't. She liked the feel of the wet sand between her toes and the cool ocean at her ankles.

Martel frowned at him. "But…how did you come by that book then? It's an old text, but a good one. My uncle had one like it from his school days."

Yuan kicked a rock down the beach. "...There was this…old elf at the military school. We never learned why he was there—it seemed like we had forever to ask, y'know?—but he's the one who taught Kratos and I to fight and Kratos managed to convince him to be a tutor in magic. But before he could…well."

Martel could fill in that blank easily enough. "You were discovered."

"Mm." Yuan remembered Alina's face and just as quickly, tried to forget it.

"…Kratos must love you very much." Martel said, looking sideways at him. "To risk his life like he did."

"I love him too. He's my brother." Yuan told her and he wondered if she could understand that he and Kratos were more than simply brothers, though they were. Could she understand what it was to be an –and-someone?

She smiled. "Yes, it shows."

Yuan couldn't tell if she did understand. He wanted to think she did because, somehow, both of the Yggdrasill siblings seemed able to understand and see things that no one else could.

"...Was your uncle actually related to you?"

Martel stared at him in confusion. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"'Cause I had a bunch of aunts in my village, but none of them were really related to us. They'd just known my Mama, Zaren and I for so long that they might as well have been. Zaren and I actually grew up learning their names with 'Aunt' tacked on in front."

"That seems strange."

Yuan shrugged. "It's like that for every half-elf I've ever known."

"It's not like that in Heimdall." Martel said. "Family is just who's actually related to you by blood."

"…Were you the only half-elves there?"

"Just about. There were a few others, but…no one liked to talk about any of us. We were like this dirty secret and I think the only reason we were allowed to stay was because my mother was supposed to leave and take us with her at some point."

"Why didn't she?"

"She…she died."

Yuan felt his stomach drop somewhere in the vicinity of his toes. "Martel, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No, no it's okay." Her smile was wobbly around the edges. "It happened so long ago that it seems rather far away. Mithos was…almost two. It's like a different life."

"…Can I ask what happened to your dad?"

"My uncle said he died of heartbreak. Then he said that that was such a human thing to do and that my mother had rubbed off too much on him."

Yuan had never heard of that, dying from heartbreak. It sounded terrible, more terrible than drowning. "The way your uncle talks, he makes it sound like elves don't feel like everyone else does."

"A lot of them are under the impression that they don't. It's stupid, if you ask me. Of course they feel. But…elves are very proud. They won't admit to anything they consider weaknesses."

"Your friend who taught you magic…did she teach you the constellations?"

"Constellations?" Martel wondered how Yuan had made that mental jump.

"Yeah. Mama told me once," On her best day that Yuan could remember, a good three years before he met Kratos. (That was how he measured time now, Before Kratos and After Kratos.) "That the elves have a guiding star."

"Yes, they call it elesa."

"In my village, the old men called it stelat. But, Mama said that Poppi had shown her a constellation with that star that was supposedly the most beautiful woman ever known."

"Really?"

"Yes." Yuan pointed, carefully drawing out the lines. "You see, there's her eye, her chin?"

"I see her."

"Her name was Glennen, of the golden hair. She was supposed to be the most beautiful mortal and Efreet fell in love with her. But she died of illness and Efreet never wanted to forget her face, so he drew her in the skies so all could admire her."

"I'd never heard that." Martel narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you making this up?"

Yuan laughed. "I promise, I'm not. That's more Kratos' thing anyway."

"He creates stories?"

Yuan froze. It wasn't a secret, really. There was no reason for it to be now that Kratos' father wasn't an issue, but it was something that they'd never really discussed—had no reason to discuss before now—and Yuan wasn't sure whether telling Martel was okay. But it wasn't as if Yuan could take it back now. "Yeah, yeah he does."

"Do you remember any of them?"

Every one. Yuan didn't think he could ever forget anything that Kratos had ever said to him. "I do, but if you want to hear them, you should ask him. He tells stories better anyway."

"Somehow, I find that a little hard to believe and easy to believe at the same time."

Yuan smiled fondly. "Kratos tends to have that effect."

"…Was it a secret? That he creates stories?"

"It was, once. I'm not so sure where it stands now as far as secrets go."

"Would he not want me to know? Let's put it that way."

"I don't think he'd mind, really. He's just not very comfortable around you yet." Kratos was acting much more like the boy that Yuan remembered these days, though the sword remained ever-present at his hip and he trained every morning, sometimes even with Yuan.

"Me?"

"I think it's more because you're a girl. He hasn't been around girls much, so I think you make him nervous."

"And you? Do I make you nervous?"

Yuan looked at her, pretty in the moonlight. He'd been nervous around girls, but only in the town that they were permitted to visit on the weekends at the military school. And they'd seemed so…different…that Yuan hadn't been sure how to act. But Martel was different in a new way that he was rather okay with.

He shook his head. "Not at all. "

-/-/-/-

Kratos was woken from his dozing by Noishe's soft trill. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have fallen asleep when Mithos was left in his care, but Noishe was as good a protector as they came. He glanced over to Mithos, who was curled into his bedroll. Safe. And Noishe wouldn't have made such a subtle sound if there was a real threat, so he raised his eyes to look beyond their camp.

Martel and Yuan were returning from their walk and Kratos greeted them with a sleepy wave. Yuan frowned at him. "Have you been sleeping?"

"I was, actually, before Noishe woke me."

Martel wanted to ask why Kratos had been sleeping when he was supposed to be watching Mithos, but then she glanced at the bird. Seeing him, it was difficult to doubt that Noishe was capable of watching after a sleeping six year old.

When Martel refocused on the boys—for that was still what they were—Yuan was saying something to Kratos about getting enough sleep.

"You're fussing again." Kratos said it with familiar exasperation.

"If you took care of yourself, I wouldn't have to fuss." Yuan said tartly as he took a seat beside his best friend. "And don't act like you don't fuss either."

Martel chuckled as she watched them. They were familiar and strange at the same time. After she sat down across from them, Kratos turned to her. "How was the walk?"

"Quite interesting actually." Kratos saw the way that Yuan leaned back on his hands at those words and that set off vague warning bells in his mind, but he kept focused on Martel.

"Really? Why?"

"Well, I learned a story or two of the constellations."

Kratos smiled. It was the same smile that Yuan had had when he spoke about him. "Yuan is good for that sort of thing."

"I also learned that you're something of a storyteller, Kratos."

She saw the instinctive tensing, saw the way that Kratos hunched in on himself a little and how Yuan seemed to automatically—without any thought at all—move closer, as if to protect him. But Kratos relaxed a minute later, though some of the tension remained in the lines of his shoulders. "I suppose you could say that."

"Would you tell me one someday? One of yours?"

Kratos ducked his head, hiding behind his bangs. Martel smiled at the familiar gesture—Mithos often did the same. "If you really want me to. They're-they're not great…"

Yuan gently pushed his friend's shoulder, but his words were directed at Martel. "Don't let him lie to you. They're amazing."

"Could…could it wait until tomorrow? I'm still half-asleep."

"Of course it can. We've got another three weeks of travel at the very least, remember? That's plenty of time."

Because they're teenagers and young and forever is a wonderful concept.