*Nemesia's POV*
As the twilight deepened into night, the distant sounds of laughter and storytelling drew me away from the solitude of my tent. I had spent the evening sorting through supplies, a task that required more mental escape than physical effort. Kara, Alice and a few others had helped, their presence a gentle reminder that I wasn't as isolated as I often felt.
Walking toward the fire, where the flickering light threw dancing shadows onto the gathered rebels, I hesitated at the edge of the circle. From here, I could hear snippets of Evar's outrageous tales, each more ludicrous than the last, yet told with such a charming conviction that even the most sceptical couldn't help but be drawn in.
"Evar's at it again," Alice whispered, coming up beside me with a gentle nudge. "You know, he never seems as alive as when he's spinning his stories. You should join us."
I looked at her, her face alight with the glow of the fire and the joy and a bit of alcohol maybe. It was infectious, and for a moment, I felt a pull to step into the light, to be part of that warmth.
"Come on, Nemesia. Even you have to relax sometimes," she teased, her voice light.
"The girl knows no boundaries. I think she's the only rebel except for Murphey to call you this freely," Athena seemed surprised but she didn't sound mad... more like, pleased?
"Come on, Nem, join us!" Evar called out, waving me over. "We're just exchanging tall tales—surely you've got one or two from the royal courts?"
With a small sigh, more out of resignation than displeasure, I allowed Alice to lead me into the circle. The rebels shifted, making space with welcoming smiles that somehow didn't demand anything of me but simply offered a place among them.
As I sat between Evar and Alice, he passed me a mug, our fingers brushing for a split second. I could feel my cheeks heat up but I blamed it on the fire.
"No tall tales required, just good company," Evar whispered, giving me an encouraging smile but I could see a spark of mischief in his gaze.
"Of course none required... but you would like to know something?" I asked after a while.
"Glad you're asking coz you're just in time for the next round of tales. Care to contribute a courtly scandal or two?"
But of course, that was what Evar wanted to ask about. I smiled lightly and took a sip from the mug that was given to me while thinking for a second.
The group chuckled, and realising it wasn't just the two of us, I felt the edges of my usual reserve soften.
"Perhaps I'll just listen for now," I replied, the unfamiliar ease in my voice surprising me a bit. Evar nodded, his expression understanding, and turned back to the group to listen to another rebel's narrative.
As the stories unfolded, each more embellished than the last, I found myself drawn into the laughter and the sheer absurdity of the tales. It was a relief, a release I hadn't known I needed. The rebels around me, Alice included, shared pieces of themselves through their stories—tales of misadventures, lost loves, heroic feats, and tragicomic errors. Their openness was disarming and, slowly, I felt the walls I had built around myself begin to crumble, piece by piece.
At some point, someone handed me another mug, this time of something warm and potent, and I sipped it, feeling the warmth spread through my limbs, loosening the tightness in my shoulders. The fire crackled, casting a golden light that made everyone's face seem softer, more open.
"It's not so bad, is it?" Alice whispered, noticing my relaxed posture.
"No, it's not," I admitted, a small smile creeping onto my face. "It's actually quite... nice."
The word felt strange, foreign, but true. Here, in this circle, with the fire warming us and the night cloaking us in its serene darkness, I found a semblance of peace, a momentary respite from the pain and planning and... hating.
The fire continued to crackle, its warm glow a sharp contrast to the cool night air. Around me, a pair of rebels shared a tale that ranged from the absurd to the touching. As I listened, I felt relaxed even more, but also something else... a warm hand behind my back. I looked to my right at Evar, but he looked totally innocent, listening to the story. But I could see... his hand right behind my back.
Kara from the other side of the fire giggled but I didn't care. I enjoyed this warmth and decided to let it be.
Suddenly, Alice nudged me again, her eyes twinkling in the firelight.
"Come on, Nemesia, there must be something fun from your past. Something before all this," she prodded.
I could feel Evar stiffen next to me. Was he afraid that I'd bite her or something?
The group's attention shifted toward me again, a mixture of curiosity and encouragement in their gazes.
"Ok, we sat here long ago... Come one, tell them something" Athena was urging me.
I hesitated, searching through memories I usually kept locked away. Then, a faint smile touched my lips as I recalled a lighter moment from a time that seemed like another life.
"Well," I began, my voice a little stronger as the memory took hold, "there was this one time at a winter festival. The court was stiff, everyone always trying to outdo each other in propriety. But that night, after a little too much of mulled wine, I decided to challenge the royal guards to a snowball fight."
Laughter bubbled up from the group, the image of a younger, more carefree me throwing snowballs at stern-faced guards evidently amusing.
"I enlisted a group of young pages, and together we launched an all-out assault. You should have seen the Captain of the Guard's face when a snowball hit him square in the cheek!"
The rebels roared with laughter, picturing the dignified captain spluttered with snow. I could hear and feel Evar laughing hard next to me, tears in his eyes. I felt a warmth spread through me, not just from the fire or the drink, but from the shared joy of the story.
"Did you win?" the girl named Kara called out, her eyes wide with delight.
I chuckled, a sound so rare and surprising that it drew a round of cheers and I could feel Evar's embrace tightening around me.
"Oh, we dominated the battlefield. Turns out, the key to victory was the element of surprise—and perhaps a bit too much wine for the guards."
More laughter followed, and the conversation naturally flowed into other tales of mischief and unexpected victories. As I listened and occasionally contributed, I found myself laughing lightly along, the sound strange yet sweet to my ears.
The night deepened, and the stories grew more personal. I shared another tale, this time of my first disastrous attempt at riding a horse, which ended with me in a haystack and the horse trotting back to the stables without me. The rebels laughed, and so did I, the sound of it mingling with theirs in a melody that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.
For a moment, I was not a stranger from a royal palace or a betrayed future queen, but simply Nemesia, a woman with a past filled with both joy and sorrow. As I looked around the circle, I saw not just allies or fellow rebels, but friends, their faces lit by the firelight and laughter.
"See? Not so bad to let your guard down once in a while," I heard Evar's voice in my ear.
I nodded, the corners of my mouth tilting up in a genuine smile and looking into his eyes.
"Not so bad at all," I agreed, feeling for the first time in a long while that perhaps there was room for laughter even in a life like mine. And when I saw the way he was looking at me... No... it wasn't his usual look of mischief or a sultry one or flirtatious or other of these... or the look of concern - coz these are his usual ones for me. No. This time he was looking at me with so much joy, like a parent watching their child having a great time playing. It made my heart thump loudly in my chest... knowing how much he saw me... and cared.
Sometime later, as I walked back to my tent under the starry sky, the echoes of laughter and tales followed me, a gentle reminder that even in the midst of chaos, there were moments of light—fleeting, perhaps, but all the more precious for it. Tonight, I had let my guard down, just a little, and the sky hadn't fallen. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for more such moments.
*Murphey's POV*
The laughter and voices carried across the camp, slicing through the quiet night like the cheerful notes of a long-awaited song. As I approached the flickering glow of the campfire, the sight that greeted me was one of jovial chaos. Several of our older and younger rebels, their faces flushed from both the fire and the spirits, were in the midst of animated storytelling, each tale more exaggerated than the last.
With a shake of my head and a reluctant smile tugging at my lips, I steeled myself for the task at hand. It was time to restore some semblance of order, though the mirth in the air made it a difficult prospect.
"Alright, you lot!" I bellowed, stepping into the circle of light, my hands on my hips. "I think that's enough revelry for one night. We have training at dawn, and I won't have you all falling over during drills!"
A chorus of groans and mock protests greeted my announcement, but the twinkling eyes and smirks told me they all knew this was coming. Tom, always the ringleader of mischief, staggered to his feet, a sloppy salute directed my way.
"But Murphey, the night is still young!" he declared, nearly toppling over before a friend grabbed his arm to steady him.
"And you're still drunk," I retorted, the corners of my mouth twitching upward despite my stern tone. "Off to bed, all of you. That includes you, Tom before you find yourself on morning latrine duty."
Laughter erupted around the fire, and even I couldn't suppress a chuckle at Tom's horrified expression at the thought of latrine duty. One by one, the rebels began to disperse, their steps unsteady but their spirits undampened.
"Go on, get out of here!" I waved them off, ensuring the fire was safely contained as they made their way to their tents. The stragglers needed a bit more coaxing, but eventually, the campsite was clear, save for the crackling of the dying fire and the soft rustling of the trees.
Turning to kick some dirt over the embers, I paused, a sense of contentment washing over me. Nights like these were rare, and though the morning might bring complaints of headaches and tired eyes, the laughter and joy on their faces were worth it. They reminded me that despite the fight, despite the danger, we were still alive, still capable of joy.
With a final glance at the now quiet camp, I made my way back to my own quarters. The rebels might think me a grumpy old bear, but as the leader of this rebel encampment, it was my job to keep them safe, not just from the enemy, but from their own youthful exuberance.
Chuckling softly to myself about the night's antics, I tucked away the memories of their laughter. It would be a good story to retell one day, perhaps at another fire, in another time when peace was more than just a fleeting shadow in the firelight.