Kurt sat on the step of De Sardet's house, staring at nothing in particular. He was sure that his mind was supposed to be filled with all sorts of rage and questions and remorse but he felt nothing. His soul was numb.

He was dimly aware of the legate coming to sit alongside him.

"Kurt?" she asked, gently. He nodded to show he knew she was there, but said nothing. There was a long pause, but even De Sardet's presence couldn't spark any thoughts. It took a good few minutes before Kurt felt the warmth of a palm, seeping through the cloth of his breeches.

"How are you feeling?"

"Nothing," he stated, hearing the bleakness in his own voice, "I feel nothing."

He was dimly aware of her moving closer.

"You seem to have been really attached to Reiner."

Kurt shrugged, trying to forced words from his lips, "He brought back memories. I was a bit like him, at that age." That was when my captain brought me to you. I let you both down.

She was silent, but it wasn't a comfortable stillness and Kurt felt it necessary to talk. "I felt responsible for him. I recruited him, trained him…"

He could sense her eyes on him and looked up at her, the concern in her face real and beautiful.

"In which case, he had the best training possible," she tried to smile, but looked sadder somehow. No less lovely, though, "I know I would have liked more time with you. Might have taught be to block better… "

She gestured her battered face and Kurt felt a new sense of shame and failure begin to eat at his insides.

"You jealous of the poor kid?" Kurt tried to smile, but his words sounded flat.

"Of course not," she tightened her fingers on his thigh, "I just… wanted to understand. I care about you."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She … cared about him?

"I'm sorry I made that stupid comment… I just…" he sighed. "This isn't exactly within the realms of teacher and student conversation. I get… nervous." He felt like such a fool when he said it – like he was still that adolescent boy outside of the prince's chambers all those years ago.

She didn't react though. At least, not to his poor choice of words.

"I'm not your student any more though," she said, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth upwards, "I have to say, I do miss being your favourite."

"You were my favourite, were you?"

"It's fine – you can tell me. I promise not to let Constantin know," she nudged her shoulder into his, inviting a verbal sparring match, trying to coax him back to himself.

"What makes you think you were my favourite?" she had been, of course – it was impossible not to prefer the funny, gregarious little girl to her sullen older cousin – but he had been careful not to show it. Or thought he had. The shame he felt at the bruises on her face, at Reiner's death… they merged with this new dread that he had somehow behaved inappropriately with one his recruits, like He had… Kurt felt his stomach churn as he waited for an answer.

"I never had to run circuits, or stay behind and do additional exercises like Constantin did…"

"That wasn't because you were my favourite. You were just … good. You said yourself on the boat, you're good at moving and talking, but you're best at listening. You'd hear the instruction, think about it, then do it. And afterwards, you'd ask questions. Then you learned. Your cousin… didn't."

"And here I was thinking I was special." Again, she was trying to goad him into their usual, easy banter.

"You are," he said, before he could stop himself. To her credit, she didn't recoil from him, but he felt her body stiffen at his side and winced inwardly. This was not his best day. He sighed then, and stood, "I should…"

"Sit back down," it was her imperious tone, eyes locked on his and intense like he'd never seen them before. He needed her then – it wasn't love, or even lust. It felt like he was like drowning without her. But Kurt was nothing if not disciplined and he remained at arm's length, stood while she sat, rooted to the spot.

"I need to go," he managed, but it was barely a growl, carried on a sigh.

"No, you don't. Not ever," she replied in the same heart-sick low murmur.

They stared at one another for a long moment. The sun had gone down long ago, and there was a chill to the air, despite how balmy the day had been. Kurt saw a shiver ripple through De Sardet's body – she was cold. He went to unfasten his cloak to pass to her, but she shook her head, standing but never taking her eyes off him. Fumbling behind her, those thin, strong fingers found the handle and she opened the door, backing into the warmth of the living room. Unable to stop staring at her, he followed, as though drawn along by some invisible string.

Inside the friendly, warm room, she was bashful – mindful of how close he was. The trappings of civilisation fought against the animalistic night and in here at least, won out. She sat, prim and elegant in the chair by the fire. He remained standing.

"Is… are the other's still here?" he asked.

"They are. But… there are two chairs. Stay with me?"

"For a while," he said, but his voice sounded distant, as if it was someone else talking.

"Tell me…" she searched for something to ask him, to talk about to fill the space between them, "Tell me about your childhood – something that made you happy. You know so much about me growing up but I know almost nothing about you."

So he told her, stilted and slow at first but warming to the topic. He recounted the time he'd gone swimming with the other recruits, told her about his nurse, his parents… and as he unfurled before her, he noticed the way she settled in, uncoiling herself in the warmth of the fire. In those hours that passed, he began to believe that possibly, had she not been born to the position she had been, that she might love him too.

But it was impossible. She was royalty, and he was over a decade older than her.

"Tell me about your first love…" the smiling command caught him off guard and he felt a pang of grief, tempered by time and distance.

"There's not much to tell. It was all pretty soppy – like most childhood flings. You know the sort of thing," he was relieved to hear that his voice was even and calm, "I seem to remember you making eyes at some dandy before you left on your studies."

"Oh, sweet, naive Kurt," there was that shadow of mischief, dancing across her features again, "I used to flirt with him to make you jealous."

"Oh please," he scoffed, "You were a child. I very much doubt the thought of an old man like me even entered your head."

"You're avoiding my question," her gaze was even.

"Her name was Ara…" he began slowly, "We grew up together, signed up at the same time. She died in a fight."

"I'm so sorry," she reached her hand out and laid it on his, pulling her feet up into her chair so she could better reach him.

"It's fine, Greenblood," he said, with a confidence he didn't feel, "Honestly. Come on – your turn."

She didn't move her hand from his as she began her tale, shy and bashful. She spoke about both men and women, which surprised him a little – though he didn't know why. The whole conversation had an air of beginnings to it, each story a block in a foundation for which neither of them had a plan. Kurt leaned into it – the point was that what they were building, they were building together.

They eventually drifted to sleep, talking a lullaby to one another as moonlight flooded the sky outside – their conversation rising and falling in soporific waves.

Kurt woke at some point, the fire dead in the hearth. The room looked so cold and flat then. He searched for a blanket to tuck over her, and on finding none, he fetched his cloak. He had planned to go back to his bunk, but again, he found he couldn't leave her. She looked – despite her height and her strength – so vulnerable where she dozed. So he stoked the embers, and lay another log on the hearth. Then he sat down and watched her sleep until his own consciousness fell away, in the first untroubled rest he'd enjoyed since they landed on the island.

De Sardet stirred with an easy, earthy murmur, as light and the sounds of life began to seep around the door frame. Kurt cracked one eye open and looked at her, content and whole in her presence. She wasn't aware of his being awake yet and stretched, cat like, into the folds of his cloak. And as she did so, she inhaled the scent of him on it, her face breaking into an enormous contented smile. He closed his eyes again so she didn't know he'd seen her, then stirred by way of announcing he had woken.

"Morning," she purred across at him.

"Hmm." He found he couldn't form words, but that was fine too. The space didn't seem to demand any from him.

Above them they heard the sounds of life from the Legate's room, and what should have been Kurt's. De Sardet stood and stretched again, gently folding Kurt's cloak and laying it carefully on the arm of his chair. She patted it once and nodded in thanks, before padding towards the servants' quarters. Then she opened the door and called down for breakfast.

Vasco and Siora arrived downstairs, but if they were surprised to see him, they said nothing of it. The four of them sat and ate their meal in companionable silence, until the coffee pot was emptied and the legate cracked her shoulders back in a decisive action.

"Vasco and I have business at the port today," De Sardet said with a nod to the former Naut, "I wondered if you might come with us, Kurt?"

"And me?" Siora asked, sounding slightly offended at not being asked to come along.

"You're welcome to join us, of course," Said the legate, then looked slightly embarrassed, "Though I was going to ask a favour… my cousin and former tutor would very much like to ask you some questions about your people. Nothing invasive! Just… so we do a better job of obeying island law."

Siora seemed to assess the situation carefully before nodding, "I would be willing to."

She left shortly after breakfast, escorted by De Sardet, in case the guards caused trouble again. There were a few moments of awkward pause after the legate left, where Vasco and Kurt struggled to think of common ground for a conversation. It was the Naut who managed to think of something first.

"So, you've known De Sardet since she was small?"

"I met her first when she was six, I think."

"And you've been with her ever since?"

"Hardly. I saw her once a day for weapons training, not counting the years she was off touring with her mother, or learning… whatever the greenbloods learn at each other's courts. Every so often I'd be asked to act as a body guard but we were never really… close. Why do you ask?" Kurt tried to keep his voice even, but he felt as though he'd been discovered.

"I just wondered what you thought she was doing here. I can't make it out – daughter of a princess, traipsing around like a common soldier… If it were me, and I'd been a noble…" there was a bitterness to his voice and Kurt frowned.

"What is it, that we're doing at the docks?"

"I… I was sea-given. Means my birth family traded me to the Nauts as a babe. I want to know who those kin are. But, now that I'm officially not a Naut anymore," he spat the fact out with a venom that made Kurt slightly uncomfortable, "I figure I've a right to know where I came from, in case they want me back…" He tried to finish with a laugh, but Kurt was familiar enough with pain that he could hear the rejection shining through the sailor's tale.

De Sardet returned then, and sensing she had arrived at the end of a conversation, she fished around in one of the many trunks which lined the walls until she was sure the others had finished talking.

"Was just catching Kurt up on what we're doing," Vasco said, seemingly slightly uncomfortable. De Sardet nodded and in doing so, seemed to notice that she wasn't wearing a hat. She had pulled some Naut uniforms from the chest and tossed one to Vasco.

"Go put that on, and while you're up there, see if you can find me a tricorne."