Art by Neverr ♥

but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

"Wow."

He wasn't sure if he had ever sounded more unimpressed. He wasn't even sure if he had ever felt more unimpressed—maybe that day when he won the Edge's crown from the hands of those who fled to the Falls, but seriously? Mauja wasn't, by any meaning of the word, selfless, or graceful, or any other thing one might associate with demure, well-spoken ladies and gentlemen singing the praise of others and hiding behind their proud-less facades when praised themselves. Mauja was raw and crude and haughty, but at least he usually kept it to himself.

Unless, of course, someone around him behaved in an absolutely deplorable fashion and with a marked lack of respect for the task at hand. At those times, he let it all out. Or at the times when beggars and whores bickered and contended for things they did not deserve; when they bleated out their egos and blood claims and thought they were worthy of something almost no one was worthy of.

He had been angry, then. This time, he was just baffled, watching what was happening from the sidelines, across from Thranduil and later, Tilney.

It was mind-blowing. It was confusing. It was absolutely, absolutely, absolutely fucking ridiculous. It was the most stupid things he had heard in a long time, and by his standards, most of the shit he heard was stupid. But seriously? So, pretty-and-elegant boy wanted Raeden's position. Right, whatever—people could want what they wanted and he guessed they could fight for it, but why not just leave it at that? Why go and make an absolute fool of yourself?

Then again, not everyone was as sensitive to the regard of others as Mauja were.

"You tarry, flirt and meddle your way through your role as specter!" Wasn't that what they were supposed to do? Tarry the right things, flirt with the right people, and meddle? "It is an insult to the work of the Sleuths and the King and Queen you serve." "Please," he growled, too low for any to hear. "You don't get to decide that shit. Did you even fucking bother to ask them or are you just pulling the shit out of your ass and listening to it squeak?" As a result of angry muttering, he missed the next sentence, but he was sure it was pompous, grandiose, and absolutely ridiculous too.

It went on, though. “Neither of us are fighters, let alone warriors Darling! Answer this challenge yourself or I shall accept your forfeit and you will be labelled a coward!” By who? By him? Who gave a rat's ass about what some stuck-up newcomer thought about anyone?

Well, okay, as fucking Emissary, and as someone who genuinely cared about the herd's well-being, he had to care, and really, it was rather shameful to be so riled up when he always put so much stake at not trusting first impressions, seeing beneath the surface, hearing the heart's desires and not just the shit their mouths spewed out.. but hey ho, emotions are emotions, and at that moment, Mauja didn't want to be Emissary or nice or any of those things.

He just wanted to pull the ice from the ground and impale some horses on it and cackle manically and savor the few, blessed seconds of a satisfaction so deep his vision darkened just from imagining it.

Then Raeden marched onto the scene, and to Mauja's disappointment, she allowed herself to be baited into talking back. He had hoped, apparently in vain, that there was someone around here who knew their own worth well enough to not have to a, defend themselves from groundless, or incorrect, accusations or b, belittle their opponent. It was just disgusting. Absolutely, completely, utterly, disgusting, and Mauja stared at them in a way that said that he wasn't really about to recommend to Tembovu and Alysanne that they keep either of these idiots on the job.

"You say that I have been absent, well where have you been?" Good fucking question. He knew it was as annoying as relentless, single-minded, useless gnats to have others assume stuff about their person—Mauja had suffered more than his fair share of that. So far, so good, as Raeden was only guilty of asshatery on one point, but to yet another round of disappointment, she soon pleaded guilty to his second charge as well. "Oh Darling you would never make it as a Specter, you call too much attention to yourself." It was ..mild, compared to Toulouse's accusations, but it still made him angry that the woman didn't just let her ears pin in a clear face of "shut the fuck up" and then went to stab the bastard without a word. After his tirade, he didn't really deserve a response.

“Love, You didn’t even attend the sneak meeting,” the handsome stranger replied, and Mauja rolled his eyes. Was he sure of that? Raeden had ways of.. not quite being seen. He wouldn't put it past her to attend a meeting unnoticed. “In less than two seasons I have disrupted patrols from other herds, infiltrated the Dragons Throat to retrieve important information about their shocking excuse of an empire, conducted patrols of my own with fellow sleuths - that’s significantly more than you have done in a whole year is it not?” Wait, wait—"disrupted patrols" was a horribly obvious word to use, it sounded like he had dive-bombed them (except, he didn't have wings, oops) and shat on their heads and said HA HA HAHA you don't get to come close to the Edge!!!

Whatever. Infiltrated the Throat and retrieved information? Not that Mauja had attended any kind of actual meeting with his two rulers, but this little tidbit of infiltration had never come to his attention. So, maybe he had gone and done something useful but two very important questions remained: a, had he simply gone on a whim or been ordered? and b, why the fuck hadn't Mauja been told?

Someone had obviously not done their job properly and he rolled his eyes. Then another insult at Raeden's capacity as a Specter (which, frankly, Mauja wasn't in any place to assess as he knew jack shit about it) but he definitely got another minus for failing to mention the Queen. “Not another word. I so despise the sound of your voice and talking won't do you a single favor.” "It's not doing you any favors either," he muttered, shaking his head. It wasn't even an innovative insult. It was generic and boring and screamed of 'I-ran-out-of-useful-opinions-to-have-about-your-person' (which, to be fair, happened like three years ago if anyone asked Mauja, as nothing he had said about Raeden had been interesting).

And as they launched into battle, he kept talking, taunting her; is that the best you can do?

I'm not impressed, he thought firmly to himself, staring at them. Then Raeden disappeared, just like that, and he had to admit, that he was slightly impressed—by her, and only her.

"Slightly" being the key word.

“You cheat! I should have expected this much from you, witch!”

"Wow," he said again. "Really? Re-fucking-illy?" Cheat? Witch? How had he expected to get anything done if he disliked this show of excellent, sneak-style magic? Or, maybe—maybe he was the only one allowed to cheat.

Not that he did. He just yelled profanities about anal penetration before lunging and Mauja laughed out loud, a dry, bitter laugh, and shook his head.

Was this the best the Edge had to offer?