Archive of Our Own ^beta

Well now.

Canach's brows shot up in pleasant surprise, his lips curving with delight as he took in the sight of Akoni standing before the mirror in his bedroom, twisting around as though trying to take a better look at herself.

His entwined was clad in a ravishingly provocative dress: the silken fabric clinging tight to her chest, cinching around her waist– accentuated by the light, silvery chains looped loosely over her curves– before falling in gentle waves down to her calves. The shimmering deep green brought out the paleness of her blue bark, especially with that single scandalously high slit slicing up to just under her hip, exposing a long, limber leg.

Pale Tree, but sometimes, just sometimes, she really did steal his breath away. Especially on the rare moments that she decided to dress up.

He stepped up behind her, and she meeped, impossibly dark eyes darting up to stare into the mirror as his orange glow flared his interest. With a large hand resting on a delicate shoulder to stop her from whirling around, the mercenary leaned in, deliberately brushing the needles of his goatee against the sensitive bark of her long, furled ear, and the corner of his mouth curled when he felt her shiver.

"You look stunning, pet," he murmured, fingers dropping down to trace circles on the bare bark of her thigh, his own violet eyes darkening as he watched her cyan trail after his touch in the mirror. "What's the occasion?"

The annoyed huff made him grin wider, but he did not expect the way her expression dropped into a defeated sulk .

The grin disappeared instantly, his focus sharpening with concern. "Something the matter?"

"I've got dinner with a noble tonight," she groused, the normal lightness of her tone now petulant.

The needles of Canach's brow flexed with displeasure even as he tugged her closer against himself, an arm wrapping around her waist possessively. Silk whispered against the roughness of his bark, and it only made him frown harder at the thought of her dressing up for someone else.

"Explain," he said flatly.

A heavy sigh from the petite Sylvari. "This guy said he's interested in donating to the Pact, but he wants to discuss details over dinner, and it has to be with me." Another huff of annoyance. "Logan claims I owe him from back when he 'saved my ass' but I smacked him with a mantra." At a quieter mumble, "I still say it's his fault for touching me."

The mercenary slowly, pointedly, let his gaze drag over her dress: the way it clung to all her curves to the point of outlining the leaves that curled delicately around her body. "And this?"

Akoni's face twisted into a dark scowl as she pulled away from him, a small hiss escaping from between clenched teeth. "This," she bit out, reaching back to try grab at the zipper– she must have been struggling with it, he realised, noting how it was resting on the dip of her back amidst a small handful of bunched up fabric– "is from the Countess because apparently she doesn't trust my fashion sense and I'm supposed to make a good impression. I think she's just getting a kick out of making me as uncomfortable as possible." She turned to look at him over her shoulder then, small teeth nibbling on a bottom lip in frustration. "Could you… help? Please? I think it's stuck, and I need to leave soon."

"Just like Anise to send something like this," he muttered, reluctantly tugging the zipper free before gliding it up to rest between her shoulders. "So I would have to help my entwined dress for a date with another man."

"I'm not any happier about this than you are," she said glumly, her shoulders sagging as her gaze dropped to the floor. 

It was well known that despite being the Commander, Akoni absolutely hated social niceties, preferring instead to leave it to the diplomatic branch of Artox Gyr to handle anything to do with public relations. She was so much more comfortable being in the midst of battle, surrounded by the people she did trust, and where it was obvious who her enemies were.

The misery on her face was fleeting, though, as she visibly shook herself, a mask of determination sliding across her features: dark eyes suddenly hard and focused as she straightened up, the red of her draconic horns gleaming bright against obsidian black.

Her Commander persona making herself known.

She stepped away from him towards the dresser to rummage through her jewellery box, already open with miscellaneous chains hanging off the sides. A quick, expert twist of fingers brought her vines up and she stuck a pin through them: the elegant metal shimmering a stark black against her white tresses.

Canach let out a slow, measured breath as he studied the way her lips were set in a thin line; how the usually sparkling whites of her freckles were dim, and the sight of her like this tugged away at the dark swell of jealousy that had carved out a heaviness in his chest.

He stepped up to her once again, both arms wrapping around her as he brought her flush against his chest, and he dipped his head to nuzzle against her temple. Letting his fingers stroke her sides, he muttered into her ear, "Well, as long as I'm the one taking you out of this dress at the end of the day." 

His remark was met with a small snort: a mix of disbelief and amusement as she tilted her head back to look up at him. 

"How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I know it makes me feel better," he said off-handedly, and hid a grin as he caught the predictable elbow already enroute to his torso, letting his hand trail down to twine his fingers with hers.

"Jerk," she huffed, though a reluctant smile now tugged at her mouth, only for it to melt away into a moan as he pressed his lips on hers.

A moment of silence fell, punctured only by soft hums and low, satisfied rumbles, before he pulled away reluctantly, leaving a last, lingering kiss on her forehead.

"I hope you take him for everything he's got, Petal," he muttered.

That finally drew a small laugh out of her, the twinkling of her freckles returning as she beamed up at him. "I plan to."

Despite being well aware Akoni could take care of herself– the mesmer rarely went anywhere without her trusty sword, and a noble from Divinity's Reach could barely be classified as a threat against one of Tyria's dragon slayers– Canach found himself trailing after them as the pair made their way down the street.

It was as he had said to her a while back, after all. We Sylvari are a jealous people, as you well know.

At the time, he had been teasing her about her annoyance with Anise. But, to be perfectly honest, it was no different for him as well. He was well aware of how delicately beautiful his entwined was, and thus the resulting admiring looks she frequently drew, even if she was completely oblivious to them.

Usually it was something he could easily ignore, though he did take a considerable amount of smug satisfaction in tugging her close to him, or even tossing an easy quip that would cause a predictable blush and stutter.

After all, only he had that effect on her.

But this blatant move at asking her out for dinner? That caused him to fight the urge to snarl.

So now, he watched as the two figures kept pace with each other. Akoni demurely kept her hands clasped behind her: more tactical than a play at being coy, as it meant the human couldn't offer her a hand in guiding her around.

This human, though…

Canach trusted her, but this blonde scrap of a man? Lord Quinton: not a noble of much note, hence why it took the mercenary a moment before finally placing his face. He'd been milling about the courts when Canach had been a part of the Shining Blade, but only there as a casual attendee amongst his more influential relatives. Young enough to be sheltered from the battlefield, but old enough to have been given considerable access to his family's wealth.

Reckless access, it seemed.

With his loud 'more money than taste' outfit– Canach was convinced there had to be a limit on the amount of lace, ruffles, gold buttons, and silver threads one could have on their person, and that this person had gone so far beyond the horizon that he'd lost sight of it– and ostentatious mannerisms in the way he fawned over the Commander: Pale Tree, but the way he waxed poetic about the glory of battle reminded the Secondborn too much of the naïve idiots they had to rescue back in Verdant Brink. There was nothing quite as cringe-worthy as having to deal with a group of out of touch nobles who thought war was the equivalent of a picnic outing instead of the battlefield of blood and trauma it really was.

Even from here, the dark Sylvari could see how Akoni's eyes were turning glassy; how her smile was becoming strained under the barrage of questions– exclamations, really– about how magnificent it must have been to fell enemies under her sword, the excitement of charging headfirst into battle to send the Dragon's minions fleeing. How glorious it must have been to have faced the Elder Dragon itself!

Evidently, she was thinking the same thing, from the way those petal-like brows were twitching as she attempted to resist rolling her eyes.

An abrupt change in her expression though, as she brightened up and Canach found his own darkening. Something the young lord had said pleased her.

The two had stopped in front of a restaurant, and judging from the way this uppity fop was widely gesticulating at its entrance, Canach presumed that this was where he was taking her.

A quick glance upwards at its sign. Little wonder she looked thrilled. It was a place she'd been wanting to try for a while, though there hadn't been time yet for the Secondborn to take her. Not with how their schedules rarely lined up.

A faint stab of resentment that he was all-too-aware was unreasonable struck him, and he scowled even harder.

"You look particularly annoyed tonight, Brother. What has your leaves so rustled?"

Canach resisted the urge to groan out loud, opting instead to rub at the bridge of his nose. Just his luck.

The owner of the voice strolled up to him. A Sylvari, much like himself: green of bark, though a touch more vibrant with a purple red hue as opposed to his own darkened grey. While the newcomer had the same rows of spikes adorning his head as Canach, his face was friendlier. Smooth barked, broken up only by how wooden boughs branched off his brows and chin, as well as the vine-like swirls that decorated his temples.

Eyes a few shades lighter than his own– a pale lavender, compared to Canach's more intense violet– glanced about, no doubt wondering why the mercenary was lurking within the shadows of an alleyway.

"Laranthir," he said flatly by way of greeting, before turning his attention back towards where his entwined was currently engaged in light conversation with the hostess. Could he dare hope that the other Sylvari would take the hint and leave?

The Vigil Grand Warmaster tilted his head to the side, brows creaking as he studied the younger Secondborn. "Is there any particular reason why you're skulking about?"

"Could you not–" and Canach bit back his words as he grabbed onto the surprised Sylvari's wrist to drag him into the depths of the alley, just in time as Akoni glanced about.

A mild curse as the Warmaster stumbled, the leather of his armour flapping wildly as he managed to catch himself just before he face-planted onto the cobblestones. Spinning around: "Canach, what are you–? Wait. Is that the Commander?" The confusion in Laranthir's voice was now more than evident, the question 'What is happening?' hanging heavy in the air.

"Yes." Canach's answer was terse as his attention was laser focused on the slight mesmer as she seemed animated in conversation. 

When further clarification didn't come, Laranthir craned his neck to try to get a better look. "Is this some sort of formal affair? I don't think I've ever seen her out of her armour before."

Tone clipped, "She's been tasked to garner support from the nobles."

Unfortunately, his sibling's curiosity was undeterred. "And… you?"

"I'm keeping watch." Pale Tree, but could Laranthir not take a hint that he should stop asking questions?

And still, Laranthir studied him, a hint of suspicion causing his eyes to narrow slightly. "Is there some ploy afoot? I don't think the Commander needs protecting from some humans, does she?"

"Caudecus was human," was Canach's short reply, his patience now wearing down to a single thread.

"Are you suggesting that–"

"Will you be quiet ?" he finally snapped. With Laranthir distracting him, he had lost sight of Akoni and Lord Quinton. Ignoring his Brother for now, he studied the immediate area, sliding further down the alleyway that snaked around the building.

Being such an upscale restaurant, it was surrounded by a well-tended garden, with a variety of colourful, exotic flowers and decorative vines bordering its sides. It stood to reason that large windows would hang open to show them off to their clientele, and his suspicions paid off when he spotted the two seated by one such window.

Luckily for him, said foliage also offered excellent cover, and his entwined was none the wiser as she settled into what appeared to be rapt conversation.

Well, on behalf of the noble, anyway. Rapt listening was on her part, though Canach could still tell her smile was forced. It was too wide. Too thin; too stiff, and it didn't reach her eyes at all.

It… annoyed him to see that look on her. He knew, logically, that as Commander she would need to shmooze every now and then, but he did not like that she had been guilted into what was essentially a date. His brow twitched then as he spotted the man surreptitiously glancing about as music began to fill the air.

"Brother," Laranthir's voice was now a quiet murmur; deadly serious. "Is there trouble? If the Comman–"

The low tenor of his voice faded into the background as Canach caught sight of the human suddenly standing up, holding a hand out to Akoni. Despite being unable to hear what he was saying, the Sylvari could just about make out the words "... Have the… –ance" on his lips.

A small flash of cyan panic before Akoni plastered yet another polite smile on her face as she stood up to accept it.

"Vigil's honour," came a shocked whisper from beside him.

"What is it now?" Canach bit out, turning to see Laranthir staring wide-eyed at him, and the dark green Sylvari groaned out loud.

He was not going to live this down.

The Warmaster sounded absolutely stunned when he pointed out, "You were growling." Gaze darting back towards where Akoni was now, somewhat awkwardly, being led across the dance floor, he repeated again. "Growling."

Canach let out a hiss between clenched teeth. "Laranthir, if you're so insistent on being useless, you may as well leave."

Lavender eyes flicking back and forth between the annoyed mercenary beside him and the oblivious Sylvari inside, a grin began to stretch on green lips. "Wait. There is no trouble, is there?" His sibling sounded equally astonished and gleeful at this point. "Is it actually possible that you're here because–"

"Laranthir, will you be quiet?! "

Oh, but the other Sylvari was having entirely too much fun to stop, though he did drop down to a whisper. "Pale Mother, the Commander doesn't even know you're here, does she? Are you stalking her?!"

For a moment, just for the briefest of moments, Canach wondered whether he could get away with strangling the man. No one else had seen the two disappear into the shadows, right? Of course, there was the whole Grand Warmaster thing, but Kveriyan and General Soulkeeper were still around. They were more than capable of leading the Vigil between the both of them, and didn't need him, right?

Unfortunately that was also a reminder that Laranthir wasn't just anyone, and the older Secondborn was no pushover himself in a fight, regardless of how much Canach was confident in his own skills.

"I'm here just in case she needs a quick retreat," he finally replied.

"We both know the Commander can take care of herself, so you can drop the act." Laranthir leaned over to peek through the leaves, scanning for the Commander's lithe form among the smattering of figures waltzing across the dance floor. "So when you say 'garner support', do you mean courting? She's dressed up very nicely."

"Akoni is not cour– " The smallest grimace then as Canach realized yet another growl had slipped into his rebuke, before he started again, his tone measured. "Lord Quinton wanted to discuss Pact support and asked for her specifically–"

A wooden brow arched knowingly. "For Akoni, specifically?"

"– which is the only reason she's here," Canach finished flatly.

"And the reason you're here is because you wish to offer her an out. Without her knowing." Laranthir grinned as he leaned back against a wall, lavender eyes dancing with delight. "Tell me, how does that work? How did this all start? I want details."

This, Canach thought glumly, was going to be a long night.

"Fuck."

Laranthir glanced sideways, his gaze more than curious. Canach had been pointedly ignoring his attempts at wheedling more information out of him, opting instead to fully focus on the Commander. Not that this stopped the all-too-amused Pale Reaver who filled the silence with a fanciful motley of proposed scenarios, but this was the first time in a long while that his sibling had actually spoken up.

"Something the matter, Brother?" Laranthir asked.

Canach remained fixated on the pair, his eyes narrowed into mere slits. A beat; two, before he finally muttered, "She's drinking."

The Warmaster turned back to the pale blue Sylvari. "... And?" He stared in bemusement as she gestured off to the side, redirecting the noble's attention elsewhere before hurriedly dumping the contents of her glass into a nearby flower pot. 

The human, none the wiser, turned back, looking delighted at something she had said before picking up the bottle of wine to refill the glass. It might not have been clear to him, but to both of the watching Sylvari, her smile turned panicked.

"Does she… just not like wine?" Laranthir whispered.

A low hiss from his sibling. "She can't handle alcohol. The last time she tried it, she got drunk and let me kiss her."

"Well, I suppose that's one reason to–" Laranthir's brain caught up with his ears and it skidded to a halt, before he spun around to face the mercenary. "She let you what?!"

Canach paid him no heed, too busy scowling as Akoni once again attempted to distract the human.

Still, Laranthir refused to let the topic drop. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait. You kissed the Commander?! When? Ho–?! Well, I suppose you did say she was drunk, but… You? Her? When?"

"Laranthir, for the love of the Pale Mother, could you please shut up? She's–" He broke off, his expression turning wooden as Akoni reluctantly sipped her glass at the human's urgings.

"Fuck this," he muttered, finally sparing Laranthir a glance. "Help me drag her out of this situation, and I'll owe you a favour."

A moment of reluctance from the older Secondborn: it shouldn't be any of his, nor Canach's, business what the Commander was up to. But looking over at the other Sylvari– who looked ready to march into the building– he was deathly curious about what was going on between the two.

The mercenary shadowing her while on Pact business? That was intriguing enough. Divulging that he had kissed her, though? The Pale Reaver's curiousity was roused.

"Lead the way, Brother."

"Canach!" Akoni's loud, ever-so-slightly slurred exclamation was filled with delight as she turned to face the mercenary approaching her table. A brief moment as she tilted her head to the side, petal-like brows furrowing in confusion. "And… Laranthir? Uhm. Hi? What're–? What are you two doing here?"

"Commander," Canach nodded, a mask of pleasantry sliding across his face, though there was an intensity to his gaze as he regarded Lord Quinton, who was glancing back and forth between the two Sylvari. "Sorry to intrude on your dinner, but you're needed."

"Excuse me, we're in the middle of a meeting right now!" the blonde human protested huffily.

Suddenly painfully aware of Canach's gaze shifting over to him, Laranthir plastered a rueful smile across his face. "Err– I do apologize, your lordship, but I'm afraid something's come up. Pact business, and it's rather urgent."

The frown that twisted Lord Quinton's all too clean cut features disappeared instantly, replaced by eagerness. "Oh?! That sounds exciting! I should come along. It would be an excellent opportunity to–"

"Confidential, and extremely sensitive, I'm afraid," Canach cut in. "I'm sure you understand."

Akoni set the nearly empty wine glass down and began to climb to her feet, her cyan flashing concern even with the flushed pink of her cheeks. "If he– if Laranthir's here, um. Sorry. I mean. He's the Vigil Grand Warmaster. So it's... It's gotta be important." She attempted an apologetic smile. "We can, um. Maybe do this nex–?"

"I'm sure the Pact Marshal will be able to close any further negotiations, my lord." There was an edge to Canach's tone that shut down any possible protests. "In the meantime, we really must go."

Akoni tottered briefly and he smoothly offered her his elbow, falling perfectly in place next to her to guide her out. Without giving the human a chance to cut in, Laranthir simply gave him a curt bow before hurrying after the two, marvelling that Canach actually possessed manners.

For the few times he deemed worthy to use them, apparently. 

"Oh for–! Fuuuuuck heels! "

The pale blue Sylvari glowed in the dark of the alleyway: her bark gleaming in the shadows, highlighted even more by each faint, erratic beat of cyan. Bright purple seared across her cheeks: a giveaway as to the way the alcohol had started to take effect. 

That was nothing compared to the way she was now wobbling on her feet. Alarmingly so, to be honest. Seeing her trip on an uneven cobblestone, Laranthir grabbed her. "Commander–!" 

She didn't seem to notice, though, as she was much too engrossed in launching into her rant, pulling away to flail about as she attempted to emphasize her points. "Why do–? Why do heels even need to exist? There's– there's nothing wrong with being short! If being sh– short is good enough for. For Nae and for Mystic, then it sure. As. All. Fuck. Is good enough for me! "

Yet another stumble, and just as the Warmaster instinctively reached out to steady her shoulder once again, he was stopped short as Canach's voice cut in brusquely.

"I have her."

The smallest squeak of surprise from the Commander as Canach leaned over and scooped her up: quick and easy, with an arm cradling her against his chest as the other supported her from under her knees.

Oh.

Laranthir’s wooden brows shot upwards, especially when not a word of protest came from the petite Sylvari. Instead, Akoni settled against the ornery Secondborn, her own arms reaching up to curl fast around his neck. Questioning lavender eyes met violet, only for the latter to narrow at him, his message loud and clear.

Not a word, Laranthir.

Meanwhile, delicate lips pursed into a pout, Akoni’s normally musical intonation was now despondent. "It's ok to be short, right, Canach?"

This was a much, much different Commander to the person Laranthir was used to. The Akoni Wolfsbane he was familiar with was quiet and distant, always preferring to let her more outspoken Guild mistress take the lead and only speaking up every once in a while to offer her own input. It was only when plans were set in place did she take over, all focused seriousness and confidence as she took command of the situation.

A stark contrast to the now, dare he even say it, affectionately sulking Sylvari as she nestled closer against Canach's shoulder, the whites of her freckles twinkling as she absently traced the ridges on his cheek.

Even more surprisingly, his usually standoffish Brother took it in stride, not even deigning to give her a glance as he calmly replied, "It certainly makes it easier to carry you, Commander."

… Perhaps not so surprising, considering, by his own admission, he had kissed her. And how that happened, Laranthir was more than curious to find out. Canach did let it slip that she let him kiss her, hadn't he?

Which meant that, miracle of miracles, his emotionally-stunted sibling actually had an interest in someone other than himself. What kind of interest, however, was yet another thing the romantic in him was dying to know.

Had the two of them gotten drunk one night– and it still blew his mind that Canach of all people would allow himself to get drunk around others– and the mercenary had simply acted on curiosity? Aloof and cynical as he was, most of their kind were interested in exploring what others had to offer. Or was it something he had been harbouring for a while? Laranthir could scarcely believe it if it were the latter, except… except that Canach had all but stalked the Commander tonight, and the only word that could describe his behaviour was jealousy.

In the meantime, it seemed as though Akoni had completely forgotten about the older Secondborn's presence. Confessing in a quiet whisper, "Canach… I– I know. I need to go to the. Meeting. Thing. But. I don't feel too good."

Needles flexed backwards as a shadow of… exasperation? Worry? Passed over Canach’s face, but he simply commented, "Would it be too much to ask for you to not throw up on me again?"

"Again? " Laranthir echoed out loud. 

The Commander jolted as she suddenly remembered he was there and let out a small, horrified squeak. An unexpected sound coming from someone who had ruthlessly cut down countless Mordrem, and it dwindled into an embarrassed whine as she buried her face into Canach's shoulder.

However, Laranthir could still see how her ears, peeking out from the tousled mess of her pale vines, were now dusted with purple-pink at their tips.

… Was she blushing? What incident was Canach referring to? Was it from that time the two of them had gone drinking? Exactly how drunk did they get?

But all that aside– Laranthir watched her fingers dig into the mercenary's shirt, her shoulders hunching in as though trying to hide against him– since when was she that comfortable with him?

He recalled the last time he had seen them together, back in the heart of Maguuma. He was well aware that the two frequently went on patrols together. It was only natural, really, considering he had his hands full with marshalling the Pale Reavers. Within their circle, there had been a comradery: a fellowship forged in tragedy, so having the two outsiders come along after the fact was… uncomfortable, to say the least. Even if they were Sylvari themselves.

And both Canach and Akoni being Sylvari meant that the rest of the Pact had been wary of them. Despite the Commander trying to assert her authority, the mistrust Mordremoth had sown between their kind and the other races had been much too deep; the betrayal towards the entire Pact weighing too heavily for most of the embittered soldiers to ignore.

So, after all that, Laranthir supposed it was only natural that the two grew close. There was a unique bond formed from fighting alongside each other in battle, after all, and he knew this fact as well as any other veteran of the field. And, he knew it was because of this that Canach had accompanied the Commander into the Dragon's mind. But, with the way she was acting right now, it spoke of something more… intimate.

Not a simple drunken mistake, then, that kiss? Was it possible that she actually reciprocated?

Yet another small sound escaped her, though this one was more a groan than anything. Her hand pulled away from Canach’s neck to lightly rub at her temples, the motion causing him to glance down at her.

"How bad is it?" he asked unenthusiastically. The mercenary seemed annoyed, but there was a touch of worry that coloured his question.

"Head throbbing a bit. Feel kinda… Kinda woozy," she admitted, her words slurring slightly.

"Well… you certainly weren't exaggerating when you said she couldn't handle alcohol," Laranthir remarked, but not without sympathy as he watched her attempt to curl in on herself. "You couldn't have had more than a glass, Commander."

"I tried to avoid it, but... But he kept trying to get me to drink." 

Pale Tree, but the poor thing sounded miserable. 

"I thought– thought I could get away with a few sips but. He just poured more."

A heavy exhale from Canach as he looked down at her. His brows were heavily furrowed and his lips pulled to one side: concern, not exasperation, and his reprimand was oddly gentle. "You shouldn't let others pressure you into doing things. You don't normally do that, either, so why–?"

"I owe Logan," she muttered, now cradling her head with both her hands. "And I did… Didn't… I didn't wanna be rude." A small pause before she added in a mumble, almost as an afterthought, "Also mom might be disappointed if I don't pull this off. This whole thing's been dragging on for months."

"I dare say she'd be more upset that you got yourself sick," he corrected dryly.

Trying to reconcile the concept of the Pale Mother being worried over something as inconsequential as getting drunk– as well as her allowing herself to be called something as informal as mom– Laranthir couldn't help but point out, "The Pale Tree doesn't actually care whether–"

Akoni looked up then, somehow managing to look both horrified and indignant as her face scrunched up, the elegant lines of her face crinkling heavily in disgust. "Ew. No. Not her. I meant Naenae."

"Nae… Nae?" Laranthir racked his memory until a small, brown-haired, grey Asura with dark blue eyes popped into his mind. One of GYR's leaders, though the only reason he was familiar with her was through Kveriyan and the Commander. "Do you mean Naefai? Your matriarch?"

"Yes!" Despite the furrow in her brow, Akoni broke into a fond smile. "She's our mom. She's adopted Canach too!" She leaned forward as though trying to share a secret, forcing the mercenary to adjust his grip lest she fall. "She has teatime with him! In her greenhouse! She–! She brings him… coffee, and… And jams. And he brings her cheese!"

"Cheese–?!" A small, strangled snort escaped the older Secondborn, ignored by the other two as Canach attempted to cut her off.

"Command–" 

He failed as she turned to him, once more in a pout as she not-so-gently bonked her forehead on his chin.

"She won't let the rest of us in though," she complained. "Mom says we're too– too destructive, and doesn't trust us around her precious plants. It's favouritism." The smallest hiccup then, as she added morosely. "Besides. I thought I'm one of her precious plants."

Having finished her ramble, the pale Sylvari settled into a quiet sulk, and the two Secondborn continued to meander through the dark alleyways of Divinity's Reach. Despite it being late at night, the city was still alive with a smattering of people wandering the main streets, and Laranthir guessed Canach wanted to keep the tipsy Commander away from the public eye. If only because she was beginning to reveal the most fascinating tidbits about his usually aloof Brother. The thought of a tiny Asura having adopted Canach, somehow convincing him to have tea with her…

Light above, but the imagery was wild in his mind, and Laranthir fought back another chuckle.

"Um. Laranthir?"

Hearing the Commander utter his name jolted him out of his thoughts, and he glanced over to see her studying him. "Yes?"

"You're kinda cute."

It took a couple seconds for her words to fully register in his mind, and by that time, the Warmaster realized that the footsteps beside him had stopped. Despite Canach not having said anything, there was a change in the air: a suffocating heaviness that settled around them.

Akoni, however, seemed oblivious to this as she continued, "I think… maybe a six. Or a seven. Out of ten."

"Ah– Commander–"

Still silent, but the beat of Canach's glow shifted into a slow, deadly pulse: a gradual buildup before bursting bright and challenging, lighting up the painted walls around them in harsh flashes. Laranthir could feel his own green hurriedly dim in response.

Oh, but the mercenary was not happy.

"I think… I think your glow is pretty." Akoni was staring at him thoughtfully, head cocked to the side as she eyed him up and down. "And. I like how you've got red hues on your bark. It gleams pretty. But minus points for your eyebrows. They're noisy when you frown. And I bet your beard is pokey too."

Speechless, flustered, Laranthir fumbled for his words as he tried to ignore the way his Brother was attempting to murder him with a single look. "I– Commander, that's– I don't think–"

"Does it get in the way when you kiss?"

"Commander–! "

Canach finally decided to speak up then, his voice a deep growl, "Akoni –"

The slight Sylvari blinked at him, before glancing over to Laranthir. In an exaggerated whisper, she said, "Uh. I think… I think I'm in trouble. Canach only says my name like that when I'm doing something he really likes, or something he really hates. And, um." She glanced up again to take in his narrowed eyes; the grim set of his lips. "I think he hated that."

Vigil's Honour, but laughter was threatening to claw its way out of Laranthir’s chest and he frantically tried to smother it down. It was disarmingly hilarious watching the normally distant Commander be so open like this, especially with what she was implying was going on between her and the grumpy Sylvari.

Canach being terrifyingly jealous was one thing. Akoni happily bumbling her way into revealing his private quirks? Priceless.

With that said, he was fairly sure that if he did start laughing, there was a very slim chance of him seeing the next sunrise. Even so, he couldn’t help but audibly choke when Akoni reached up to press delicate lips against Canach’s twitching, thorned cheek.

"Don't worry," she beamed. "You're a ten out of ten for me, and you know it."

"You." 

Laranthir had never heard Canach sound as carefully measured and serious as he did now. 

"Are never. And I mean never. Going anywhere near alcohol. Ever again."

Dark eyes opened wide as her finger lingered on his jaw. Her voice small, "You don't want to know why you're a ten?"

The low, exasperated hiss was almost as funny to Laranthir as the realization that she had completely ignored Canach's statement, and that this really was a losing battle for the younger Secondborn.

"Unless it's suitable for polite company, no. Not now , at least," he finally grumbled under the weight of her sad gaze.

An audible gasp from the Commander. "I–! I would never! I wouldn't say anything like that!" she huffed, pulling away from him as much as she could, considering he was still carrying her. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Akoni was the very picture of indignance as she pouted. "I changed my mind. You're not a ten anymore."

"The absolute end of my world," he deadpanned.

Another offended huff as she began to squirm in his grip. "You can put me down now. I can walk."

"... Somehow I doubt that," he sighed as she let out a small growl of frustration when a shoe caught onto her dress.

"I can! Let me down!"

"I don't trust your legs nor your heels," Canach countered, having had to duck a flailing hand as she struggled even harder to free herself of him.

"I'll walk barefoot."

"Nightmare take me…" the mercenary had no choice but to pause in his step as he continued to try to wrangle the belligerent Commander. "Fine. Tell me why I'm a ten."

"This will be interesting," Laranthir muttered under his breath, not bothering to mask his amusement anymore even as Canach shot him an annoyed glare.

"You're not a ten anymore because you're mean," the tipsy Sylvari declared petulantly, pushing at him hard, causing his grip on her to loosen.

"Akoni." 

She froze, her gaze darting up at him as she shrank into herself.

Something passed between the two: unsaid, but Laranthir's sharp eyes caught the way his Brother's features softened as he exhaled carefully; how Akoni relaxed, uncurling to gingerly wrap her arms around him again. Caught the subtle way both of their illumination suddenly dimmed, only to slowly come alive once more to pulse back and forth. A soft, rhythmic call and answer.

It was hypnotic and he found himself mesmerized, openly staring at the couple as they eventually returned to normal.

Well, as normal as could be with Canach looking as utterly resigned as he did now.

"Tell me how much you've rated me, and why."

Akoni blinked guilelessly at him once more. "You smell good."

A brief silence as he took this in, before asking wryly, "Is this related to my rating, or did you get distracted?"

"I–!! I'm not–! Ugh! " She gave a haughty sniff before turning to the bemused Warmaster, completely dismissing Canach as she declared, "I changed my mind. You're an eight out of ten because you are nice. Also–! Also you have very kind eyes. They're very pretty and soft when you look at people."

"O– Oh. Commander, you don't–" Flustered, Laranthir could only flounder about, especially when he felt the heat of Canach's glare on him again.

Except she kept going. "And you've got a nice voice. Even if it's not that deep, until you get real serious, and you… you're really sweet but you can still put on a commanding air. Very clear and strong." A brief pause as she scrutinized him carefully. "It's kinda hot, actually."

"Brother, about that favour," Laranthir said desperately, green glow flashing alarm as he waved his hands in an attempt to placate the increasingly annoyed Sylvari. "I'd like to call it in and ask for you to not murder me because I can see you thinking it."

For being somewhat drunk, the Commander was remarkably quick as her head snapped towards Canach. "Wait… What favour is he talking about?"

"I wanted his help in pulling you out of your date," Canach replied as a thorned brow twitched slightly.

Delicate features crinkled into a puzzled frown. "What do you–? What help?"

"That urgent Pact meeting," Laranthir reminded her helpfully. "The one that doesn't actually exist."

"... Oh. Oh." A moment as she processed this, before she a little bit too magnanimously turned back to Canach and declared, "Ok. You're a ten again."

His reply was completely flat. "Wonderful."

Laranthir couldn't help the small smile as he regarded the pair. Akoni was taking his Brother's attitude with an ease far beyond that of someone whose inhibitions were loosened by drink, what with the familiar way she nestled into the dip of his shoulder, an elegant finger teasing at a leaf curling out from his collarbone that spoke more towards habit than simple fidgeting. And, on Canach's part, despite his obvious irritation, there was a certain softness to his usually callous self, in the way his needles flexed back the moment Akoni's bark came near them, and the care in which he carried her: ensuring she was held tight and comfortable against him as he navigated his way around anything that might jostle her too much.

The way his thumb was absently stroking her bare shoulder, too, was a dead giveaway.

Well, then. I suppose it's about time you found your own happiness, Brother.

"I like how you're bigger than most Sylvari."

A cough; a sputter: Laranthir wasn't sure what barked out of his throat but something did at the sudden announcement, just as Canach blurted out a scandalised, "Akoni–! "

"Most of them are lean. Like Laranthir," she continued blithely, somehow not even noticing the other two had frozen in mid step to stare at her with identical horrified looks. "You're taller. More broad. I like how you look stronger, but still not too bulky."

It still took a few seconds before Laranthir realized what she was actually referring to, and he had to once again bite down on the sudden hysterical laughter that threatened to burst out of him at the dark green Sylvari's utterly chagrined expression, his legendary nonchalance having been completely obliterated.

None of this stopped Akoni one bit. "And. And I think you're really handsome. You look more… rough. But the nice kind of rough. And a dangerous kind of rough, with your needles. And spikes. It's really, really hot."

"Commander, I feel like I'm learning a little bit too much about your type," Laranthir commented lightly, not even bothering to smother the few chuckles that escaped him anymore. If Canach was going to murder him at the end of the night to salvage the remnants of his dignity, so be it.

It was worth it, at this point.

A confused look from the pale Sylvari as she blinked owlishly at him. "My type? Um… I mean… if you really want to know about my type," and– oh Pale Tree, did she just pop the edge of that leaf in between her lips for a brief moment ? Judging from Canach's sudden sharp inhale at her absent nibble, she did– she nuzzled against dark green bark, "it would be my thorn."

"Your thorn?" Lavender eyes instantly darted to violet, but the latter was steadfastly fixed ahead.

"O– Oh." Small lips pursed into an 'o' as Akoni suddenly seemed to realize what she had let slip, and she dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Um. He says he doesn't like pet names but he actually really likes it when I call him that. He feels like… like brightness. Like warmth. And he feels like–"

"Commander," Canach's tone was curt as he cut her off, and it would have seemed harsh if it weren't for the tinge of embarrassment tainting it. "I really think you should rest now. You were feeling ill not too long ago."

"But I feel a lot better." She beamed. And, she did seem better: her words were much less slurred, though her cheeks were still unnaturally flushed, not to mention she was much more talkative than usual.

So much more talkative, and Laranthir was having the time of his life. Especially since Canach bore the brunt of her carefree chatter. He couldn't help but quip, "I'm amazed, Brother. You actually feel emotions other than cynicism and annoyance."

The heat of a stare was suddenly on him: the Commander herself. Dark eyes narrowed into slits and cyan burst anger as she snarled, "Canach is actually really nice and kind so you take that back."

As he floundered under her fury– the way she had instantly flown to the other Secondborn's defence completely threw him off-guard– Canach unexpectedly yanked her attention back. 

"Didn't you call me mean just a few minutes ago?" he asked casually.

It was almost as though a switch had been flipped: Akoni stuttered, the harsh glare of her glow sputtering in confusion. Laranthir watched in wonderment as, for the first time that night– the first time since he had known him– his ornery sibling broke into an actual smile, small and fond, pulling Akoni close to brush a kiss against her forehead.

Cyan bloomed underneath his touch.

That gesture stomped out any remaining doubts the Warmaster had as to Canach's feelings towards the Commander, and her to him, and a wistful smile curved his lips.

This was no drunken mistake; no fly-by-night fling. It seemed that love had found the most unlikely of Sylvari.

Akoni meanwhile sank back into the dark green Sylvari's arms, her voice now small. "I don't understand why you're always so mean to me when I try to defend you."

Laranthir frowned. Always? Dream take him, but it would be like Canach to not appreciate what– who– he had. A small burst of indignance on the Commander's behalf prompted him to turn to his sibling, already prepared to chide him, except he was stopped short.

The younger Secondborn's reprimand was surprisingly quiet. "You don't have to defend me, Petal. It doesn't bother me."

"It bothers me, though," she insisted, the upset clear in the downturn of her mouth and the harsh furrow of her brows.

Another absent brush of his lips on her forehead. "The only people whose opinions truly matter no longer need convincing."

Violet eyes strayed over to glance at Laranthir. Expecting judgement, perhaps, but the Vigil Warmaster simply shrugged with a soft smile on his face.

Was he amused? Most definitely, the entire evening had been nothing but entertaining, yet at the same time, the romantic in him was utterly charmed.

How could he not be, seeing how love was slowly warming over the formerly cold sibling of his?

A huff, though Akoni seemed to be mostly placated. However, she gave him a small bonk with her horns. "I'm still going to defend you though."

That dry quirk of his lips returned. "Even from your family?"

Akoni grinned back at him, reaching up to give him a small peck on the cheek. "Nope. You know they do that because they love you."

An exaggerated sigh was her reply. "I thought it was worth asking."

A brief silence fell, punctured only by steady footsteps as both Canach and Laranthir continued to navigate through the back alleys. The former slightly in the lead, and the latter content to simply sit back and follow, though the odd tugging within his chest was starting to grow.

A strange melancholic heaviness of sorts, churning away slowly.

Love, huh?  

Love of a family, of comrades… those, he was familiar with. What he had settled with, when he had helped found the Vigil. But what he had actually been searching for: a companion, a lover… Someone to share his life with, someone to bond with, was evidently what his Brother had found instead.

"Canach?" Akoni's question came out somewhat absently as she toyed with the bristles on his chin, seemingly fascinated by the way they dimpled her bark. At his questioning hum, she continued, "I want a kiss."

The only betrayal that her request caught him off guard was the smallest falter in his step. "Right now, Commander?"

A small cough from the Warmaster. "Is she usually this… forward?"

"Only when she drinks," Canach answered dourly.

"Fine," she muttered, her gaze flicking over to the other Sylvari. "Don't kiss me then. I'll just ask Laranthir, and find out if his beard really is pokey."

"Co– Commander–! I–" the words spilled out of his mouth as he shook his head vigorously. "I'm flattered, really, but Canach here looks like he's about to eviscerate me."

And he did. The Sylvari looked both tired and frustrated, having had to deal with her antics the entire evening, and the staccato beat of orange against his dark green bark was a stark contrast that announced to the world of him being at the end of his patience.

Except it only seemed to kindle her mischief further, as she declared triumphantly, "He said himself that you shouldn't let other people pressu– Mpf–!"

White freckles flashed surprise as Canach tugged her into him, catching her lips roughly with his as his hand slid up to bury itself into the whites of her vines, pulling her even closer before curling to clench into her tresses. And that was all Laranthir caught before he spun away, a bright green flushing his embarrassment.

Soft, breathy moans and gasps drifted through the air as Laranthir stood there, staring at the blank paint-chipped wall awkwardly.

After an uncomfortable stretch of time, he coughed. Once; twice, meaningfully for the second, but only once he heard Canach grumble out a, "You really do talk too much when you're tipsy," did he turn back.

Pale Mother, but despite the way Canach was scowling at her, the two Sylvari were glowing.

Meanwhile, Akoni simply grinned, looking entirely too satisfied with herself as she stroked his jawline. "I like how husky your voice gets after you kiss me." Another peck of her lips on the edge of his: sweet and lingering, this time. "I like how your needles feel on my skin."

Another wordless grumble from the mercenary, but Laranthir caught the barely noticeable caress of his fingers on her shoulder.

Seemingly placated now that her demand was met, she settled back against his shoulder, tilting forwards to bury her face into the bark of his neck. She had pulled her arms back against herself, though a hand was left to rest against his nape, fingers idly tracing the patterned grooves leading down from his scalp.

And finally, finally, she seemed to fall silent. Her eyes drifted shut as her bioluminescence dimmed, comfortable and content.

Laranthir stole a glance at Canach. The exasperation had slipped from his features back into his trademark indifference, though the way his gaze was focused straight ahead seemed more to avoid Laranthir than to watch his step.

While Canach being awkward was highly entertaining in and of itself, Laranthir couldn't help the gentle curve of his lips.

The mercenary's past was well known amongst the older Sylvari. News travelled fast amongst their kind, and The Pale Tree never made it a secret, nor even held back her disapproval with the choices he had made. She was fond of using him as an example of good intent gone horribly wrong. Those constant reminders, as well as her well-meaning but endlessly draining criticism, the unending comparisons with all his other siblings; her compulsion to always give directives masked as advice on what he should and should not do, had driven him far away from The Grove.

That, coupled with everything that had happened with his past– Roots below, but Canach had even been jailed for a time within the depths of Laranthir's own beloved Vigil Keep– it was no wonder that the dark green Sylvari was the way he was now. A hardened, cynical, sarcastic, and emotionally withdrawn soul.

Akoni spoke up then. Quiet and muffled, if somewhat tired. "I like how you smell."

"I believe you've already mentioned that," Canach reminded her, though this time, his baritone was soft as he dipped his head to brush his lips against the wicked curve of one of her horns.

Red flared happiness through the cracks at his touch, and his own glow glimmered briefly in response.

Hardened. Sarcastic. Emotionally withdrawn. Except… except the Comm– Akoni seemed to be changing him. Bit by bit.

So this is what Love could really do to a person …

Her voice was now a faint mumble. "I like… how you feel like home."

Laranthir glanced away, his face flushing green as he scratched at his temple awkwardly. As fascinating as it had been to discover this new side to both his fellow Sylvari, he couldn't help but feel like he was now intruding on something that was much too intimate.

"I… probably should get going," he spoke up hesitantly.

A small, questioning sound. Inaudible, and he turned lavender eyes towards her. 

"Pardon, Commander?"

"She's asleep," Canach said quietly. A brief pause, as he seemed to contemplate something, before he added, "She tends to talk in her sleep."

"Ah." The Warmaster turned this over in his head. Canach was always careful with his words; what information he divulged, which was partially why everything the Commander had sprouted earlier had been so delightfully amusing.

"I wasn't aware you were in a relationship with the Commander. Or, well, that kind of relationship."

A noncommittal shrug, though it was slight as to not disturb the pale Sylvari. "We don't make a habit of announcing it."

Laranthir couldn't help the smile as he regarded them both. "Night blossoms. I'm not surprised."

"Call me a blossom one more time, Laranthir, and I'll have you eat your foot."

The smile grew bigger. Threatening violence was not his Brother's style– backhanded insults were more his thing– but it was a wonder his patience had actually lasted this long, especially after everything Akoni had put him through.

"I suppose the Commander's the only one who gets away with calling you anything even remotely close to a pet name, then?" he laughed quietly.

"Weren't you leaving?" Canach snapped. 

Akoni let out a low, sleepy, questioning snuffle at the sharpness of his tone, her fingers curling to rub against his bark, and a hiss escaped him. The faintest sound, resonantly deep, rumbled from his chest and she settled down with a contented purr.

Laranthir returned the shrug, delight dancing in his lavender eyes at having witnessed the exchange. "It felt as though your Commander wanted a moment with you."

Canach scoffed at his words. "And you didn't think to excuse yourself earlier?" The bite in his tone was undermined though when Laranthir's words fully registered, and he echoed incredulously, "My Commander?"

"Someone had to make sure the two of you didn't get carried away," his Brother replied lightly, though the faint glimmer of green around the wooden boughs of his features betrayed his embarrassment. Public displays of affection, he was familiar with, seeing as how their people had a tendency to be openly affectionate with one another. But knowing how private these two particular Sylvari were… it just felt… wrong to intrude.

Especially when the Commander was far from her usual self.

Which led to the other, far more interesting topic, and the teasing grin returned. "Yes, Canach. You're amazingly possessive over her."

Another twitch of thorned brows just as the mercenary opened his mouth: instinctively defensive, but to Laranthir's surprise, Canach instead took a deep breath, glancing down at the dozing Sylvari in his arms.

And to the Pale Reaver's amazement, relaxed, the fight completely leaving him.

His words were short and simple: quiet, but a calm statement. "Yes. Akoni is a part of me."

The humour in Laranthir's eyes faded. There was an odd gravity to what the mercenary had said that spoke to something other than just a figure of speech, and–

He feels like… like brightness. Like warmth.

Lavender widened in shock. "You are entwined?" he asked in disbelief.

Not a word from Canach, though he held Akoni tighter against him. No confirmation, but also… not a word of protest.

A muscle in Laranthir's cheek twitched. Anger? No, of course not. He wasn't– No. It wasn't anger. It was similar, in the way heat flared in his chest to eat away at his insides, but there was no aggression that lurked inside it. No, this was more… bitter. 

… Jealousy. 

"This is serious, then?" he asked, his tenor low. Void of the light-heartedness present throughout the evening. "You and the Commander."

Canach glanced his way, his own gaze hooded as he picked up on his Brother's abrupt change in mood. "Yes."

"You…" A bark of laughter from the Warmaster, harsh in the night. "Perhaps I've been doing everything wrong, then. I've been serving the Pale Mother and the Dream faithfully for all these years. Had I known all it would take was to walk away from her path to find love, I would have done it a long time ago."

Needles flexed backwards; Canach's mouth tightening into a flat line. "It isn't like that, Laranthir," he said tiredly. "And it's not all petals and blossoms."

Incredulous, the older Secondborn stared at him. "You're mad, Canach. How can you not appreciate what you have? You have someone to love– no. Beyond that, you have an entwined. Not only someone to love and cherish, but someone to share your hopes and dreams with. Someone who trusts you to the point of sharing her mind, her very being with you. To twine her very existence with yours. How is that not all you could wish for?"

"And what happens if I were to lose her?" Canach snapped back, sharp and biting, as he turned to address his sibling. "To some random bandit skulking around a corner? To a rabid creature coming across her path? To enemies on the field; or those trying to weaken the Pact? To shadows that’s followed her from her past? Or to what she's made a name of herself for: those accursed dragons?! "

Orange flashed bright at his last words, highlighting the dangerous slant of his thorns as the edges of his mouth curled into a snarl, and Laranthir could only gape back in stunned silence.

Seconds ticked past as Canach visibly reined himself in, though the continued twitching of his brow was a clear giveaway to him wrestling his agitation down.

"Love hurts as well, Brother," he finally continued, his tone deceptively flat. "I hope you never know the threat when a part of you is in danger of falling in battle. Or when you're forced to watch her, feel her, be torn down from the inside, and being utterly helpless to do anything about it." Softly, now: "... I would not wish that on anyone."

Their eyes met and in that moment, Canach looked lost; vulnerable. But only for the briefest instant, over so quickly that Laranthir wasn't sure if it had just been his imagination, before the usual indifference slid back, tainted only by a tinge of bitterness.

"Do you… regret it?" he asked with trepidation.

"No," was Canach's instant reply. Fierce. "She's mine, just as I'm hers." And now a dark smile stretched his lips, terrifyingly void of humour: savage and wild. "I've had to fight for myself; to be myself, all my life. Nothing has changed now that she's a part of me, and I'd sooner let Tyria fall before I let someone else tear her away."

A chill ran down the Pale Reaver's spine at his Brother's declaration, words utterly failing him as Canach cradled Akoni close. His glow now slowed into a steady determined pulse, and the Warmaster was suddenly reminded that the mercenary had been one of the most wanted Sylvari in all of Tyria at one point.

A most deadly fighter in his own right.

Akoni spoke up then: a quiet mumble that broke the sudden silence that had fallen between the two Secondborn. "'m here." Barely audible– barely conscious, even– as arm reached up to curl around his neck. "Won't leave you." But the quietest, pained addition marred her assurances as she clung to him tighter, the uneven staccato of her glow betraying her distress. "Just don't leave me. Not again."

The mercenary flinched. 

Barely noticeable, but Laranthir was not the Vigil Grand Warmaster for nothing. But as he opened his mouth, confusion already bombarding his mind with countless questions, Canach shook his head.

"I need to get her home," he stated with finality, that mask slipping once more as he glanced worriedly at her. "I– No, GYR has a guild home over in the Selma district. It’s closer. Till next time, Laranthir."

There were still so, so many questions– home? Again? What had happened between the two since Maguuma?– but the mercenary was right and Laranthir shelved them aside for now.

Casting one last look at the Commander, at Akoni, he nodded. He would hold him to that. "Till next time, then, Canach."