Chapter Text
Judith takes a swig of her drink.
She should have known this day would come eventually.
To be fair, the boy never talked about being interested in anyone in any of the smuggled letters he wrote to her in his then imperfect Fodlandi. And the boy would talk about just about anything; some strange new food combination he tried in the kitchens, how his wyverns were faring that day - oh Goddess, the absolutely unending lists of fungi he always seemed to make bigger with each new letter.
It was much the same once he snuck his way across the border and landed himself here. The difference in the boy’s appearance took her off guard; as much as she knew of the lad she had only seen him in the one precious portrait Tiana managed to sneak over to her years ago, when he was merely five. The painting that still hangs in her quarters to this day did little to prepare her when she saw him for the first time, sixteen and clearly older, taller, his voice already solid. But other than that? Oh no, the boy still somehow firmly held onto that spark of curiosity captured so well over ten years ago from that day, rattling off about any and everything that caught his attention - and it seemed like any and everything did.
The war changed him, as it does with everyone. Instead of going off on tangents on how often the kitchen staff serves sweet bun trios he talks about how to divide the rations for all to eat their fair share. Talks of fungi turned into talks of procuring antitoxins, or making them himself if funds were too low. His precious wyverns were now well trained in the art of fighting, something she sees hurts him to have become a necessity.
Of course, the boy would never let it all be so down. He makes sure to leave time in his schedule to play with the children that make it to the markets - on a blue moon he can fit Jamshid, the calmer of his darlings, in the tight space for the little ones to admire and feed. He makes sure to have a joke and a smile for his soldiers, something she can see they appreciate more than the boy seems to realize himself. He talks with the people around him, makes them feel seen and wanted, rarely pushing them away even when she can see fatigue drag at his eyes.
She still has to step in sometimes, give the boy the break he rarely takes - another change, from how prone to naps the boy once was - but she finds herself standing still more and more often these days. He’s grown into his role well, able to stand strong and tall on his own merits. She’s proud of the man he’s become; how could she not be?
But that’s just it, isn’t it. He’s grown.
She snatched her tankard and took a long, steady drink.
The boy found someone he likes.
He had no need to confide in her his “distracting feelings” for the Blaiddyd prince; she could see it in his eyes, the way they shone as they looked at him like he strung the boy’s beloved stars in the sky. She had her suspicions before the war, how the prince would somehow sneak his way into the boy’s ramblings like a snake in a garden. Maybe she was in denial then. Maybe she managed to convince herself then that it was merely the political side of their relationship that interested the boy and nothing more. That he didn’t mention the Hresvelg girl nearly as often was just a detail to be ignored, because there just wasn’t any way that the boy had found someone he fancied, not her - friend’s, boy.
But no - she goes for another swig only to find her tankard empty. She calls for the server to get a refill - actually, just get her another one on top of the refill. No, there was no use in denying it now. There was no other explanation she could find for how much trust the boy put into the Blaiddyd prince, how happy he looks when talking about him, how much he talks about him. Not when she couldn’t think of anyone else the boy put so much passion into.
She sighed, a hand pressed hard against her head. He really isn’t a boy anymore, much as she can’t think of him as anything else. He is a grown man. He can make decisions like this by himself. It wasn’t her place to try and stop him. But - she takes another long drink, feels it dribble out the corners of her mouth - she thinks back to that portrait of the child with eyes as big and shining as emeralds, that round face with cheeks begging to be pinched, that big smile she now sees given to him, and just what the fuck right did that Dimitri punk think he has to her boy?! What did he do to snatch Khalid off his feet?! Tiana trusted her to look after the boy and she would be damned if she was gonna let some bastard like him just take the boy away!
She shot up from her seat, the stool clattering on the ground and scaring the servers around her.
“U-Um, ma’am-”
She dug in her pockets and shoved a random pile of coins to the one closest to her. “Here,” she spits out, not bothering to look at the young man sputtering at her, “don’t talk to me.”
This wasn’t the first time she walked out a tavern with far less money than intended and it wouldn’t be the last time she would forget to care. She stormed out, gait unsteady but determined, and met with her carriage driver. He met her gaze with a tired familiarity.
“To home, Lady Judith?”
She got opened to the door and slammed it shut. He already knew her answer; she could feel the carriage move soon enough. Good. She needed a quill and paper, get in touch with her contacts right now.
There was no way in hell that prince was gonna take the boy without Tiana knowing.