February Q&A — Part One (Patreon)

• If you could go back in time to before you met MC knowing what you know now about them, would you change the way you first met?

You can read about Alessa and Hadrian's first meeting with Romanus here!

Hadrian considers this for a moment. "…nothing. I would change nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

He shakes his head, more resolute. "No. When would we have met? Before you joined the Company? Before I did? Lord, I don't want to think what would have happened if you met me as a Templar." He pauses then and frowns. "I don't want to see you afraid of me. I never want to see that."

You smile but press on. "How about how you behaved when we first met."

"What did I do?” Hadrian asks right away. “Did I say something?"

"You don't remember?"

Hadrian's eyes widen in a brief panic. "I— no. I..." He stutters. "I mean, I was a bit uncomfortable with, uh, your skillset, but I never said it, did I?"

You laugh, stopping him in his tracks. Stepping up to him, you fall on his chest and while Hadrian is confused, he accepts you in his embrace, nonetheless. "What if we had met as children?" you whisper. "Before you were surrendered to the Church, and I was living with my mother."

Hadrian's large hands move up your back. "That's a nice dream, love," he says, hands going down now, warming your spine. "But then, I wouldn't be me, and you wouldn't be you and God knows where we could have ended up. I won’t trade this —" he hugs you a bit tighter — "for anything."

-

Alessa lifts an eyebrow, but it's not an accusing one. She's thinking. "I see nowhere else we could have met," she declares at last. "'Twould be doomed to fail if I had encountered you any time before you joined the Company."

"Why's that?" you bait, hiding a smile. "Don't tell me you would have attacked me, Alessa."

She scoffs. "Only if you had given me cause to attack."

"I would never do that."

"I know not. A single listen to one of your quips, and I would be tempted to take out a knife."

You chuckle, and Alessa smiles sharply before her face softens. She takes a tentative step forward, brushing her cold hand against yours. "You know I... do not possess a life outside of the Company," she says in a low tone. "If you had not joined, there would be no future for us both."

You take her offered hand. "Since when have you started to think of futures, Alessa?"

The top of her cheeks reddens, but Alessa doesn't look away from you. "Since you have begged me to, darling one."

She quiets your retort with a kiss, and you decide to let her win this one.

-

Alain laughs. "You know exactly what I would change."

"I don't," you lie.

The noble's eyes sharpen, and you know he's caught your bluff, but Alain is nothing if not accommodating. "I would have taken you to bed, mercenary, that's why I offered the drink. But you had the other two there, so…" Alain shrugs. "I supposed I would erase your Company friends."

"You would have me alone in that unknown tavern?" you say coyly, a slight pout on your lips.

"Not for long," Alain assures, sliding closer to you. He taps his fingertips along the arch of your cheek, grinning down at you. "I'd keep you company throughout the night, sparrow."

"Would you have invited me to the ball if that had happened?" you ask, genuinely curious now.

Alain's grin diminishes. "I would have to," he says, cupping the back of your head. His voice carried a... weight to it, almost a bitter tone. As if taking notice of that, Alain immediately loosens up. "Knowing what I know now, one time wouldn't be enough," he says, back in shallow depths once more.

"You are the picture of romanticism," you say drily, hoping he doesn't notice your disappointment.

"Me and Romance are estranged friends," Alain says. "But you know that."

Why do his eyes ask forgiveness for his words? "I suppose I do," you whisper and step away from the nobleman.

-

Ysabella shakes her head full of curls. "I couldn't," she admits. "I can dream of different scenarios, different ways we could have met, but they're all fantasies, dear. I would either meet you as a commoner, or I would have met you as lady Ysabella Theer and exchange not a word."

You walk in tandem with her across the streets of Tarragona with the sun shining harshly from above. She wears her disguise, her hair simple and unadorned. It's incredible how different she looks outside of her noble garments. "What if we had met at the ball?" you question. "Say, Alain invited me, and you saw me there. What would you have done?"

To your surprise, Ysabella's face drops. She chews her lip in the manner you've come to know when she's conflicted. "I..." The noblewoman looks up at you, hesitation in her eyes. "That's not a fair question."

"How so?"

"Because Alain would have told me he invited you," she says, her bright smile challenging the sun. But you see a shadow behind her eyes, something she hides. "I would make any excuse to talk with the mercenary that interested my twin brother."

You hum, not quite sure what to think. The streets melt into one another as you walk, and your thoughts turn inwards.

You don't know how long it passes before you feel a jolt in your hand when Ysabella grabs it. "I wish you would have filled my tankard," she whispers, bringing her lips near your ear. "And sat down with me to listen to the band. Did you notice that woman dancing? I wished she would have been me, and you would have danced with me."

Her plush lips kiss your cheek.

You feel nothing but sincerity in the gesture. "We can dance, Bella," you say, pulling her to your side. "Whenever you want."

-

The Pirate King's smirk tears his face in two. "Of course. I often wonder why I didn't throw you over my shoulder and stole you to my ship."

You cross your arms. "Because I would have kicked you in the family jewels."

He doesn't seem affected. "That would've made it more challenging." Another smirk. "I like it."

"I'm serious," you counter.

"So am I," the Pirate lies. "I would've carried you, kicking and swearing, to my cabin and sailed away to the distant sea. I'd even throw my sailors out so that it'd just be you and me." He tilts your chin with his knuckles. "Skip the whole song and dance at the beginning."

"You liked the song and dance," you remind him, not giving in an inch. "You sounded disgustedly pleased when I was trying to guess who you are."

"I haven't forgiven you for calling me a guard," he mutters.

"You wouldn't change anything, would you?" you ignore him, grabbing his wrist and taking it away from your face. "You liked our first meeting."

The King of Pirates leans in. "As much as you liked that ripe peach," he says. "And how I made you tingle..."

His lips brush yours, and a hand presses against your lower stomach. "Right here."

-

Neia's scarred lip tilts. "Thinking about it again?"

"Hard not to," you answer. "You made quite an impression."

"You didn't."

You gape at her. "Yes, I did."

"I would change that. Wish you would have made a better impression."

You can only scowl at the woman. Neia doesn't bother hiding her amusement. She's smiling wide, glancing at you through the corner of her eye, as she likes to do. "You couldn't stop thinking about me afterward," you challenge.

"Keep on dreaming, sweetling."

You step closer, chest bumping into hers, and watch her raise an eyebrow. "I bet I hunted your dreams."

As you hunted mine.

Neia stays still for a moment, her face as expressive as stone. It's only her eyes that convey anything, and in them, you read faint amusement. "You know what? You're right," Neia drawls, a large hand pushing on your lower back to pull you even closer. "If I knew what I know now, I would've changed one single thing."

"What is it?" you whisper.

Her canines peek underneath her lips. "Have the time to throw you on top of that bastard's desk and find out how far down your pretty blush went."

-

"You don't think stalking is a fine foundation for a relationship?" Lance quips at your question. "I think an entire day following you was a perfect beginning to our love story. Perfect to tell our grandchildren."

You laugh, bumping your shoulder with his. "As long as you leave out the part when I fell down the Devil's wall."

"But that's the best part!" Lance exclaims. His accent is more pronounced now, as it always is when he's happy. "Just... let us tell them I jumped to your help, yes? It'll make me look a bit better."

"Shame on you that you didn't, by the way."

"I'm sorry. I was too busy laughing."

You chuckle, and he kisses your hand in apology. Outside, the clouds move across the blue sky, like a great herd of gigantic sheep. You rest your head on Lance's shoulder, appreciating the quietude. "That wasn't a meeting, though," you say, at last, in a soft tone. "You followed me, sure, but that wasn't when we met."

"No, we met by a fountain, did we not?"

You turn your head up and catch his smile. His golden tooth shines with the cold light of winter. "Do you count that as the meeting? Not down in Mist's safehouse?"

"No, no. Our first meeting was in the morning," Lance assures you. "When you gave me a golden coin, and I sang you a silly song." He smiles still, but it's softer now, as is his voice. "That is a perfect meeting point, my mercenary. I would change nothing."

You smile, cuddling up next to him. "Neither would I."

-

The amber in Vallen's eyes seems to shift along with the firelight. "Nothing."

You put your elbows on your knees. "Not a single thing? A small detail? You wouldn’t even change your hairstyle, Vallen of the Red Guard?"

Vallen sticks her tongue out. “No! Not my armor, my hair, my words, or my expressions. They were all calculated, and they worked as intended.”

“Did they?”

“You visited the barracks the next day,” she says, her fingers playing with one another. She wears no rings, but Vallen moves her knuckles as if she does. “And agreed to meet me in the garden.” She bats her eyelashes at you. “And now, you’re here.”

You think back on that night at the gate of Tarragona, of how innocent she seemed to you. Without meaning to, you smile. "That was a long way to get me. You could have just asked me out for a drink at the gate.”

Vallen breaks out in a pretty smile. "Warren’s head would have exploded! And Lorn would have scowled something crazy. As if that old, useless man has any authority over me.” Vallen giggles, putting her legs on top of your lap. “But the problem with a drink is that I would have poisoned the beer."

Your smile dies.

You stare at her, and Vallen stares back unblinkingly. "God's nails, Vallen, you meant it."

It's not a question, so she doesn't bother denying it. "I would never learn how much it’d cost me," she muses, speaking more to herself than you. Vallen grabs your gloved hand and puts her fingers at the center of your palm. "How much I would have lost."

Your mark itches, but you don't look away from her round eyes. "How much the world would have missed."

-

"How about everythin' about it?"

"Everything?"

"What part of our bloody meeting was good? The stabbing, the blood or me begging ya for help?" Rafael sneers at himself. "I couldn't have looked more pathetic if I had actually tried."

"You weren't pathetic, Raf."

"No, I was just pitiful," the thief retorts. Rafael breathes out, glancing sideways at you, and when he speaks next, his tone loses all bite. "I got no idea what made you stick with me after that fiasco."

"I wonder the same myself," you quip, easing the words with a gentle smile. You walk up to him and sweep back a strand of his hair. "But then again, I wonder what made you stick with me after the whole interrogation fiasco."

Your bastard smirks. "Seeing me tied up did somethin’ to ya, didn’t it?"

At your soft laugh, Rafael preens. "Hush," you say.

He does... for less than a heartbeat. "I would have changed a lot if I knew what I know. If I felt what I feel." You search for his gaze, but Rafael avoids you, looking to the side. "I was a proper bastard to you. I insulted and pushed you away and fuck me if I'd succeeded."

You pause to arrange your thoughts. He did try to push you away, but you never blamed him. How could you have? "Will it do anything if I say it wasn't your fault?"

"No."

"What if I say I don't blame you?"

Rafael finally looks at you. His brows are furrowed, and his mouth is in a straight line, but there's a tenderness in his angular eyes. "Once I'd call you soft."

"And now?"

"A gift," Rafael says, lowering his lips to yours.

• If you could ask Romanus one thing and they had to answer truthfully what would that question be?

Hadrian: "What happened to you?"

Alessa: "What sits beneath your glove?"

Alain: "What do you prefer? Red or white?"

Ysabella: "Why do you want the maps?"

The Pirate King: "Did you enjoy the peach?"

Neia: What she asked, and you only half answered. "Who the fuck are you?"

Lance: "How and where did you learn Latin?"

Vallen: "How much fun are you?"

Rafael: "Are you loyal to Tarek? Why are you working for the White Company?"

• "Say, Alessa? It was mentioned that you've visited Tarragona before. I was curious, how much of the rest of the world have you visited? And was much of that travel with the White Company? Or were you secretly an epic adventurer in your youth?"

Alessa crosses her legs in the most relaxed way she can ever be — which is not a lot, but you appreciate the attempt, nonetheless.

"I have not traveled as much as you might assume. I know the Peninsula fairly well, although I must admit, I am not satisfactorily acquainted with the Kingdom of Portugal." She gets a faraway look. "'Twould be... interesting to visit the western shoreline. I have never seen the ocean as it was. Only the Mediterranean Sea. I wonder if the water is different. If it smells different."

Alessa blinks, and the look is gone. "I have some knowledge of the Greek islands," she says coldly, before swiftly moving on, not giving you time to dwell on it. "Other than that, I have gone as far as the south of France. It was... a hazardous journey through the mountains. I wish not to repeat it."

"Have you ever been to Italy?"

"I have not." Alessa makes a face. "Nor do I wish to. It stands sickly close to the Vatican."

You muse on her words and only now realize that she hasn't answered you fully. "Wait, was all of this travel for the Company? Or did you travel in your youth for some other reason?"

Alessa looks at you as if you've missed that water, in general, tends to be wet. "My youth was spent in the Company. Any travel I did was done for its sake."

"For Tarek's sake," you mutter under your breath.

Alessa's eyes flash. "How insightful of you. Any more questions? Perhaps you wish to know which side of the bed I sleep in? Allow me to save you the trouble: whichever one is furthest away from the door."

You can't help but grin. "I do have one more question."

"Ask it."

"What's your favorite place you've been to?"

You catch the surprise in her eyes. The blue widens, and Alessa falls into those rare moments where she's speechless. "I..." She closes her mouth and watches you. You don't know what she seeks, but whatever it is, she seems to find it. "Home."

It's your turn to be surprised. "In Navarra?"

Alessa’s smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Why not?" she whispers and gets up from your shared table. "Your mug is empty," she declares, snatching it from your grasp. "I shall refill it."

• "Hadrian, do you think that when our time has finally come, the lord will let us be together wherever we're going next? I'd like to start the next chapter with you by my side, big man."

(This is written for a Pious Romanus who believes in the Church’s God – Hadrian’s God.)

Hadrian cups your face. "There's no Heaven if you're not in it," he says with not a single ounce of shame or shyness to the words. His eyes lock on yours, and you know he means every syllable. "The Lord blessed me with you. He won't be cruel enough to doom me to eternity without you."

You grab hold of his hands, thumbs caressing his inner wrists. "You think we'll both go to Heaven?"

Your mark flares as if telling you that you won't.

"Of course we will," Hadrian says, oblivious to your inner demons. "We have to. I— Lord, I might leave this earth before you, but I'll wait for as long as I need."

Even as your eyes start to moisten, you laugh. "What if I go first, Hadrian?"

"You won't," he says, voice hard and sure.

You don't waste your breath trying to fight him. This has been discussed a thousand times before. "Heaven, then," you say, hiding your doubts.

Hadrian kisses your forehead. "We'll see the twelve pearly gates together. I, uh. I won't say I can't wait, because I definitely can." He leans back, smiling cheekily. "Life is good too."

• What’s one thing you wish you were good/skilled at?

Hadrian: Carpentry. "I, uh. I like using my hands," Hadrian admits, scratching at the stubble in his jaw.

Alessa: Conversation. Alessa refuses to elaborate.

Alain: Medicine. If his station allowed, Alain would have stalked the Theer's personal healer and tried to learn his craft.

Ysabella: Knitting. "It'd make my life so much easier," she says with a huff. "My fingers are stabbed enough."

The Pirate King: Riding. "The damned beasts keep getting the better of me."

Neia: "I'm skilled at everything I need," she gruffs.

But the secret answer is reading maps. Neia always struggles to make sense of where she is and where she needs to go.

Lance: More instruments. His mastery of the piano is pitiful.

Vallen: Dancing. "I have two left feet," she tells you, pout heavy on her cherry-colored lips. "Father told me I would never find a husband if I can't dance. So, I gave up and joined the Red Guard."

The honest answer is brewing. Potions, salves... poisons.

Rafael: "How to make easy money," he grumbles to his cup. When you don't go away, Rafael lifts his face to scowl at you. "Fine. I wish I could bloody cook better. Happy?"

• Beka! Through entirely legitimate means you come into, say, a thousand gold coins. Your food and necessities are bought and paid for- How do you spend the excess? Are you living like Ysabella?

The young thief scrunches up her face. "Whatcha mean a thousand gold coins? Use a real number, Richie!"

At her frustration, you realize Beka doesn't understand what a thousand means. You briefly wonder how high the girl has learned to count. "A lot," you say, careful to keep any pity from your tone. She'd take offense. "Like a lot, a lot. Do you know those nights when the moon is hidden?"

"'Course I do."

"And how do the stars look?"

Beka squints, trying to determine if you're calling her an idiot. "Lots."

"Thousands is like that, Beka. As many coins as there are stars in the night."

The girl is struck speechless. Beka's mouth falls, her tooth gap on full display as her eyes widen the side of two full moons. "So many..." she whispers in awe.

You smile. "Can you imagine it now?"

Beka nods, eyes looking into the distance. You let her fall into a brief silence, smiling faintly at the look of wonder on the orphaned child's face. After a moment, Beka blinks and returns to the present.

"What'd I do with all of that?" she asks, and you nod. Beka purses her lips, skipping from one foot to the other. "Why d'ya wanna know?"

"Just curious."

"Hmm," she hums, twirling her fingers in each other. If this were anyone else, you’d say she’s shy. "I... I'd like to try chocolate," Beka says, pointedly looking down at her feet. "And get new boots. And a coat. I 'spose that's it."

She picks up at a loose thread on her filthy robe. "Anything else?" you gently probe. "Remember, Beka, you have as many coins as the starry night."

The little girl raises large, inquiring eyes at you. "Would... would there be enough left for a book?" she whispers, voice smaller than you've ever heard before.

You ignore the pang in your chest. "More than enough. Is that what you'd want?"

"If I learned to—" Beka shuts herself. "Yes, Richie."

You reach out a hand to her. "C'mon.”

"Where we goin'?" Beka asks, but she steps forward and grabs onto you. You feel her little fingers wrap around your palm, smaller than you'd expect.

"We're going to get you some boots," you declare, starting to lead her onwards. "And then a coat, a bar of chocolate, and a book."

Alessa can lend you some more Company money.

• Goliath, who's the very last person you'd want to see stepping into the ring with you?      Who strikes fear into your heart? (Is it your mother? Lord knows she probably doesn't approve of this line of work).

Robert, the man known as Goliath isn't one for many words. So, when you catch him drinking in a shady tavern, you plop down in front of him with your back to the door.

Of course, he can always toss you aside and exit, but at least, you'll give him a good workout.

At your string of questions, the Goliath grunts. "My folks got a house because of what I do," he tells you in a rasp, deep tone. "They happy enough."

"Doting son, uh?" you say with a grin.

He shrugs. "Don't take care of your folk, and you go to hell."

"Ah, so it's the fear of hell that has you acting right?"

"Nah." He sips his drink, wipes his mouth, and puts the mug back down. "My ma would hav' beat me straight to hell. She's the one who strikes fear in my heart."

You laugh, dangling an arm over the back of your chair. "Guess I have the answer to my first question too."

*if Romanus is male

"Guess you do," the Goliath answers and doesn't answer in anything more than grunts for the rest of the conversation.

*if Romanus is female

The Goliath quiets. His small brown eyes lock on yours, and he seems to muse for a while. "You don't," he says, then. "I'd hate to see you in the ring again."

You blink, surprised. "I'm the last person you'd want to fight?"

He grunts.

Your cheeks get warmer. "I didn't expect that."

"And I didn't expect you to accept my offer," the Goliath says and motions to the barkeep. "Another ale," he orders before turning to you again. "If you'll have it."

His face is redder too, but his gaze is unwavering.

"I... I will."

The Goliath smiles.

• Captain Cynthia, thirty days without speaking, or three days unable to see or hear?

Captain Cynthia answers at once. "Thirty days without speaking."

"Really?" you say, brows raised high. "Wouldn't that make it difficult to command?"

Cytnhia rests her elbows on the table and gives you a smile that reminds you of a wolf with rabies. "There are more effective ways to command than words, friend. But deaf and blind would be close to a death sentence."

"You think your subordinates would murder you?" you ask with a crooked smile. If the woman was more paranoid, she'd pop eyes on the back of her skull.

"They wouldn't dare," Cynthia says, waving a dismissive gauntleted hand. "But I'd be out of a job, and I'd like to see you survive in this city without any coin."

"That quick?" you ask.

"What is it you do?" Cynthia pretends not to know. "Sell your body to some warlord just like I do. Answer me, would your lord keep you while blind and deaf?"

"If it's only for three days..."

"And how would he believe that?"

You go to answer but slowly close your mouth. She's right. Tarek wouldn't believe that. "You read too much into it," you say instead, a bit petulantly.

Cynthia smiles again. It's no less disturbing. "Alright. My turn to ask now. Would you rather only speak in lies or only speak the truth?"

You smile back. “Only speak in lies,” you answer just as quickly.

"Always knew you were crooked," Cynthia sneers.