Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mumbo held back a laugh as he opened the carriage door with a rather deep bow. 

The coachman barely glanced his way, but he did do what he was advised to. With his eyes turned downwards, Mumbo only saw his companion's legs- or rather, a beautiful pink silk skirt, fanning out and spanning over the underskirt beneath it, hovering inches over the dusty path. A white, gloved hand was sitting on the peak of a v-shape in the dress pattern, floral imagery faintly embroidered around it.

The second hand found his own as his companion stepped into the carriage, careful and delicate in a way he wasn’t used to, and the coachman cleared his throat as soon as the door was closed. He seemed impatient, and the horses seemed to be as well, he thought, now that he was no longer bowing, and could look at them properly.

“We gotta be on our way soon. Get up.”

“He’ll be in the carriage with me,” A quiet, feminine voice sounded from inside the carriage, “I’ve never been too far from my own home…” The voice drifted off, like the implication was clear- this was a new and sort of scary situation, and it would be nice to have a familiar face there.

The coachman’s impatient expression turned to something more curious- like he was filing the information away for later, for gossip or something. It momentarily set Mumbo on edge, but he kept his neutral smile up as he walked around the carriage to open the door on the other side.

He sat down carefully after brushing his hands over the seat, making sure he wasn’t sitting on any dirt. Mumbo retained the dull, delighted expression even after he stepped inside, hands folded on his lap and head turned downward. The suit he was wearing- usual garb for a butler, white ruffles in front and at his sleeves, along with a black vest with four silver pairs of buttons keeping it all together- was not the most unusual outfit he found himself in. There had certainly been much weirder things, some Mumbo would rather forget… He didn’t look up, but he knew that his companion must've been thinking just the same. 

It was a beautiful dress, all things considered.

They waited until the carriage started moving, the beginning of their ride unexpectedly smooth. His friend suddenly nudged Mumbo’s foot with his own as he adjusted in his seat- for any onlooker, it wouldn’t be a grand gesture at all, but Mumbo knew better than that. His eyes flicked upwards, his head not moving an inch.

The veil in front of his friend’s face moved as he pinched it between his fingers, and slightly lifted it up. He mouthed, silently, “Check.”

Mumbo cleared his throat, eyes quickly finding the floor again. When he spoke loudly, in juxtaposition to his friend’s silence, he peppered in a bit of bravado. “I worry about your luggage, my lady.”

His friend- softly, in a voice that wasn't his own- said, “Yes?”

“I’d like to check if it’s correctly secured.”

He paused for a moment, letting the words settle in for anyone that could be listening in. “Check your own as well.”

“Yes, my lady.” Mumbo bit back an ugly expression at having to call his friend by some sort of honorific title, but if he didn’t, their cover would've been blown, and that’s the last thing either of them wanted. 

So he dropped to his knees and looked beneath both of their seats, keeping an eye out for any sort of traces that pointed towards spells being used on the carriage- more specifically, something that could be used to spy on them and their conversation. He ran his hands along the wood flooring, in case any sort of engravings or formations were hidden from his eyes, because as easy as it was to hide something optically, it was a much harder feat to do the same for tactility. As he checked, he actually secured the suitcases in the process, pulling the straps that bound them to the seat.

He sat back up, first dusting off his knees, and then his gloves. His mouth opened to share that there wasn’t anything suspicious, but his friend put a finger up, and stopped him in his tracks. Then he lowered the finger back down.

There was a pause, and a long lapse of silence- with Grian looking like he was focusing on something that Mumbo couldn’t see. 

No matter how often it surrounded his life, Mumbo was always amazed by magic. Maybe, he thought, the main appeal was that he was never going to be able to use it himself. Something that looked so complicated on the outside could’ve been easy for Grian- even if it did take him a minute.

“Nothing,” He mumbled in a low voice, finally sounding like himself again and dropping the soft, feminine voice. Grian let out a big sigh and put one leg on the seat next to him, collapsing against the door and pulling down the veil to rest it right below his chin. “No spells that I could trace.”

“And why did I have to check manually, again?” 

“Convenience. I’m just trying to be thorough.”

Mumbo similarly relaxed against his seat. As he sat back, neck craned towards the top of the carriage, the collar of his shirt tugged around his neck, and he lightly pulled at it. “I hate this outfit.”

“How do you think I feel?”

"It was your idea to dress up." And just as he said that, he turned his head to face Grian- and was immediately nailed in the face by his companion’s hat. He barely reacted in time- eyes shut before it could hit them, and temporarily blind him- but he also waved his hand in an attempt to deflect it, and he missed the hat entirely, smacking empty air around it in the process.

The hat fell to the floor with a light fwoomp. When Mumbo opened his eyes again, he was met with a disappointed expression from Grian- as if he was the one that just got hit in the face. Or, knowing him, he was likely disappointed that he missed hitting his eyes, and leaving him to grumble and rub them for the next few minutes until they didn't sting anymore. Before he could complain about it properly, Grian flashed him a grin, and waved his hand.

"Oh, don't worry, Mumbo. Next time we go on a trip like this, you can put a fancy dress on. I think I'll do just fine in a suit." He said, fidgeting with the part of the dress that was tightly wrapped around his neck. And though he was obviously teasing him, he looked out the window as he fidgeted, as if he were worried about someone on the outside looking in. 

But as far as Mumbo knew, the carriage was just heading out of the city, and he knew that nobody would've paid too much attention to something that looked completely normal on the outside. And then- as they'll go through the countryside, and up a mountain- they won't have to worry about anyone looking in because they’d be out in the wilderness. (Unless, of course, their carriage got stopped by a band of thugs- those that'd force the carriage to stop, and demand anyone in the cart itself to step outside if they wanted to live- but those were usually just one-in-a-million chance type scenarios. 

And, if it did come to that, Grian wouldn't even have to step outside if he didn't want to, and he knew it.)

"If everything goes to plan, we won't have to dress up again." And, finally, Mumbo watched as Grian seemingly couldn't take it anymore, and unbuttoned part of his dress, showing off the small feathers poking out around his neck that he’d been trying to hide. 

Despite feeling like they were alone enough to disregard their disguises, and despite knowing that nobody was keeping any close eyes on them specifically, Mumbo still felt a little uneasy, "Don't get too comfortable-"

"We'll do it as a parting celebration." Grian said, as if he couldn't hear him at all, "Get you one of those mourning outfits, with the long veils- say you're not much of a talker, more of a tall, quiet kinda girl- and we'll be golden."

"And what kind of scenario would we be in?" Mumbo humored him.

Grian finally seemed to fully relax, leaning against the carriage's seat, and staring out of the window on the opposite side. His shoulders were slumped and again, knowing him, he had the feeling that Grian was going to try and take a nap. (Which wasn’t a bad idea, considering how long the ride was supposed to be- but Mumbo knew that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep in these conditions. And, even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. Someone had to keep an eye out for anything that could go wrong, however boring the landscape would be as they slowly rolled by.)

“I don’t know- maybe, next mission, we’ll have to dress up a bunch of nuns. You might need to shave, though.”

“I’m okay.”

“We’ll just get the veil, then, and hope that they won’t want to look underneath-” Grian squinted, and held his hand out. “Can I get my hat back?”

“No.” Mumbo said simply. 

And when Grian scowled at him, Mumbo picked up the hat from off the ground, but didn't hand it over just yet. Instead, he made a show of slowly putting the hat on his own head, pushing the brim upward so that it wouldn’t cover any part of his face.

Grian’s eyebrows raised. “It looks good on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s messing up your hair, though.”

“I’m not surprised. It messed up yours, too.” And, self-consciously, Grian sat up ram-rod straight, and his hands immediately flew to his hair. In patting it down, and realizing that it wasn’t that bad, he got really huffy. (As if they weren’t going to have the time to fix his appearance before the party. As if he wasn’t going to lean back in a minute, and take a nap so deep that he’ll wake up looking like a hot mess anyway.)

Mumbo gave him the hat back. Grian slapped it against his knee once, playfully, before he made himself comfortable again.

“Isn’t this a whole… suitor thing? Won’t you have competition?”

“Of course.”

“So- why are you covering so much of your face? Despite the… obvious reason.”

"Maybe we got lucky enough to find a target that doesn't care about looks.” Mumbo felt his eyebrows crease. Grian frowned. “What?”

“It’s not the strongest plan.”

“Are you saying that I’m not good-looking, Mumbo?”

“I’m saying that I can’t see half your face, Grian.” With the hat on, it was even harder to see.

"If he wants this pretty face." He gestured toward himself, arm waving around as the rest of his body stayed still, "He'll have to earn it."

"Gods help us." Mumbo muttered under his breath, and Grian cackled as a response.

“I’m not all too worried. The suitor thing is a coverup, anyway, I bet we can find a way to branch off, if it doesn’t end up working out.” Grian admitted with a sigh, “Getting in is the hard part. We just have to get the job done, and leave. Maybe it can even be like- one of those murder mystery stories."

"The penny dreadfuls?"

"Mhm."

"The ones where the killer always gets caught in the end, by the genius detective?"

He frowned, "Suddenly, it sounds less fun."

"It's not supposed to be fun." He muttered, deeply rubbing the bridge of his nose with his hand, “All we really need to do is find a way out, when everything's done. Then we can worry about what comes next.”

“We can take a look around, if you want.”

“I don’t think they’ll take too kindly to you roaming around their property.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be staying there for the night, along with the other suitors? Are we just- supposed to stay in our rooms all day, and do nothing?" Mumbo sighed. Grian's tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. "It’s fine! We can take our time with this."

-

Most of the ride over was spent in silence.

While Mumbo kept an eye out of the window, watching their surroundings change as they made it further and further up the mountain, Grian slept soundly.

He didn’t know how Grian could sleep, with how often the carriage was rocking, and making his head bump against the wall he was laying against- but he did. As his head hit the side, Grian would inhale sharply, but then his breathing would be back to normal in seconds, as if it never even happened. He was, notoriously, a deep sleeper, and this whole ride only further proved it. Mumbo thought, if something did happen- if worse came to worst, and if the carriage was being robbed, or somehow falling off the edge of the mountain, or if everything around them was going up in flames- Grian would only realize it after his nap, yawning and casually stretching long before he’d realize that something was wrong.

Mumbo, in turn, was a light sleeper. Too much of a light sleeper to be able to sleep through any part of this ride, even as he wound down a little. He let himself lay against the seats, and relax as much as he physically could- but with every bump and jolt, he was sitting upright again, and staying alert, before inevitably laying back and trying to relax again. This stubborn cycle lasted for a while, until Mumbo realized that being comfortable on this trip was going to be impossible for him.

There was a particularly rocky movement. One that swayed everything inside the carriage- including Grian, who swung forward limply, and hit the side of his head hard enough to make Mumbo wince. This one, it seemed, was the one to finally make Grian wake up. With a gasp, Grian was sitting up, and looking around- until he realized that he was fine. Then he was threading his fingers through his hair- still tied up, but significantly messier than it’d been when they first stepped in- pushing his fringe and other stray hair strands out of his eyes, while rubbing the spot on his head that’d gotten hit.

“What time is it?” He muttered. “Are we there yet?”

“We’ll be there soon.”

Grian massaged the side of his head deeply, eyes squinting and trying to adjust to the light. He looked more grumpy than angry- and if he were in a better mood, Mumbo might’ve laughed at it.

“Where’s my hat?”

“It fell off.”

“What?” He looked down, and leaned over to pick it up. But instead of putting it back on his face, and leaning back over, Grian set it next to him. He continued rubbing his head, scratching a spot behind his ear that made his feathers visibly puff out, and stared out the window. He seemed drowsy still, and not entirely there, like he was still in the process of waking up.

"You're not going back to sleep?"

Grian shook his head. “I’m okay.”

“Do you want to fix up your appearance?”

“What’s wrong with my appearance?”

“You look like you went through a tornado.” As he spoke, Grian slowly pulled his hand away, and a lot more of his hair came undone.

“Yeah, sure.”

Mumbo held his hand out, and Grian put his own into it without any protest.

And while Mumbo busied himself with fixing up Grian's outfit- snapping the collar back into place, and making sure that the sleeves were rolled up past his forearms- Grian spent the whole time staring out the window of the carriage.

"I can get used to a view like this." He muttered at some point. Mumbo glanced over to the view in question.

Mumbo knew that they were getting higher and higher in altitude, but he didn't realize how high they were getting until he looked out the window. They were provided with a stunning view of the area just at the base of the mountain. And though it was blocked by a few trees, he could still see a faint outline of the city they were just in, along with a few small, select buildings occupying it. The more densely populated areas must've been hidden, or covered, because Mumbo couldn't see it at a first glance. The rest of it was just a forest- a long, spanding view of a forest that gave the illusion that it was unending. 

As if to top it all off, the sun was setting. Early, due to it being autumn, and thankfully not because they were arriving to the party late. The sun casted the skies in a golden, pink glow- and while Grian had been staring at it since the minute he woke up, really taking the whole scene in, Mumbo had enough of the view after a minute or so of looking at it. 

"It's nice." He said anyway, hooking the buttons on the sleeves, and even cuffing it up a little to make it look good.

Grian took a deep breath.

"Yep- I'm used to it." He turned to look at Mumbo, "Mumbo, I want a mansion."

"We'll get you one."

"I want a mansion on a mountain, like this, and I want to be able to watch the sun setting every evening."

"Are your shoes laced-?"

"They're flats." He interjected quickly, shoe peeking out from underneath his skirt as proof, "What about you? What do you want to do after all of this is over?"

"I thought this sort of party warranted heels."

"I can't run in heels." The flat shoe kicked against Mumbo's leg, suddenly, "And my skirt is long enough to cover it. Come on- humor me."

"You can find all that out when we get fully paid."

"Come on." Grian repeated, leaning his head over to make eye contact, and show that he was upset.

Mumbo sighed.

"All I really want from this is an easy life." He said, finally, "I want a nice house in the middle of nowhere, and I want to retire."

"Not going to get any servants of your own?"

"Gods, no."

Grian hummed, "Maybe we'll be neighbors?"

"Or roommates."

Grian hooked the veil on again, and straightened it out to make it look nice on his face. He tugged on it a few times, just to make sure it stayed on while staying away from his eyes.

"That was the plan, ages ago. I'm glad you haven't changed your mind."

"Let's see how this mission goes."

Grian cracked him a wide smile, and Mumbo only knew it because his eyes crinkled.

-

When they finally arrived at the base of the property of the mansion, the carriage slowed, and eventually stopped.

The two of them both looked out the windows. Because of where the sun was in the sky, the outside wasn’t entirely lit up, and it was difficult to see much of anything. But all they could really see- besides the trees, and the various guards hanging around- was a wall that surrounded the whole property. It was made of stone bricks, and it had small, intricate designs covering some of it- though it was hard to see anything substantial from where they were sitting.

Some guards posted around the area were curiously looking over at the carriage. And, after almost making eye contact with one of them, Mumbo sat back against his seat. After another minute or so, Grian followed him.

“Are we supposed to get out now?”

Mumbo thought he could hear the muted sounds of a conversation outside. And, the longer the two of them stayed silent, the more he could hear it- though it was impossible to discern what anyone was saying.

“No.”

“Do you think they know who it is?”

Mumbo spotted someone else trying to subtly look inside, and being entirely too obvious about it. Upon catching Mumbo's eye, they ducked away, but the damage had already been done. 

“Yes.”

He expected this. In fact, because of how the news was spreading, Mumbo would’ve been surprised if they weren’t gaining any unnecessary attention.

Because after years of being hidden from the public eye, suddenly, the infamous (and human) Princess Ariana was showing up at an aristocratic elf’s debut party, and she was competing for his hand in marriage. 

From anyone else’s perspective, it was such an insane thing to think about, and even more insane to see everything happening in person. That's why everyone was trying to spot the princess before she fully came out of the carriage- and why they'd undoubtedly be getting a lot of attention when they entered the property, and the party.

Grian side-eyed the window.

"How do I look?"

"Presentable."

"Is the hat worth trying to put on again?"

Mumbo looked at Grian.

"Definitely not." His hairstyle looked fine- and, even with it on, he guessed that Grian would only want to take it off again once they're inside, and he did not want to try and smooth his hair down again when the hat inevitably messed it up.

As the carriage began to move again, and passed through the large, imposing gates- they were both suddenly hit with a mute wave of nausea. Mumbo could feel it- and he could tell from the way Grian's eyes squinted that he felt something similar. 

"There's a magical barrier."

"Do you know what it's keeping out?"

"...no." He said after a pause. "But it's powerful."

The doors slammed behind them, and they continued through the property with no immediate sight of the mansion.

The rest of the ride was spent in a tense silence, as if they were both expecting something big to happen on the way there.

-

The room that the party was being held in had a lovely entrance on the side of the manor, complete with pillars, and a small overhang in front of the large, wooden doors. And, after leaving the carriage, they were quickly ushered inside by a couple of servants.

The ballroom itself was a lot more… grand than they expected it to be. Especially considering the fact that, allegedly, there hadn't been any parties held there in a long time.

Unlike the other ballrooms Mumbo was used to, this one had a dark wooden flooring, instead of a more sturdy material. But other than that, it was mostly similar. They had spaces where tables and chairs were set up. They had a certain color scheme that they were following- white and golden tablecloths covering them amongst tons and tons of plates, and dishes being served. The indoor balconies at the top had ambient music playing, and Mumbo could spot a violin player sitting next to a note stand. The others that presumably sat next to them were in too deep, and Mumbo would have to walk further into the middle of the room to see them as well.

As they walked through it- admiring the space, and the high ceilings- all Mumbo could think about was how the space was being used during a normal day.

Before the whole mission started, they gathered as much information about the property as they could- and, considering that it was a really private area, it was difficult. Apparently, despite from a few visits in the town below the mountain, and despite a few trips they'd make every few months, the family preferred to live in seclusion. But the family hadn't visited the town in years, and nobody knew if the carriages coming from their property were them going on a trip, or just people coming up there to visit. The point was- it was isolated, and despite living close by, nobody knew anything about them.

Except for the fact that they were rich. And, with this party, the fact that this family had a young son that they wanted to introduce to the public after years of staying quiet about him.

They knew the target's name, as did most of the suitors, but beyond that, it was blank. Nobody knew his age, or what he even looked like. And of course, with a debut party, there had to be a debut of some sort- so, as they entered, the two of them understood that all they really had to do was wait for him to appear, or to look for another plan. 

But as the night went on, nothing relating to their target was happening. No sign of him showing up anytime soon, or even being at the party in the first place- and despite the promise that he would be there, it was starting to make Mumbo anxious.

Currently, most of his attention was focused on the fact that Grian was growing a little more popular with the rest of the crowd. Though they were visibly wary of them, Mumbo was constantly catching the sight of his companion actually trying to talk with the other guests. Sometimes, he’d find some success, and seem to hold a conversation with them- gesturing as he talked, and keeping their focus for more than a few minutes. And though he couldn’t hear what they were talking about, he could hear the faint sounds of his laughter ringing from across the room- pitched, and fake, but convincing enough for everyone else to believe it.

He wasn’t entirely surprised that, out of the two of them, it was Grian that was successfully socializing with the other partygoers. (Especially after asking Mumbo to get him something to drink- code, he realized, to separate, when they realized that keeping Mumbo around was lowering his chances at talking with everyone.

Though Mumbo didn’t consider himself to be an intimidating guy, he was still tall for a human, and everyone knew that he was supposed to be a bodyguard, of sorts- but nobody knew what he was really capable of. And, as such, most of the other guests were quick to move out of his way as he walked towards them- wanting to seem polite, while also trying to avoid him as much as they could. He didn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone, he supposed, if he was distracted- but there was also something really dejecting about people going out of their way to avoid him.)

As he approached one of the tables that were full of food, there were people immediately moving to get out of his way, and Mumbo acted like he hadn’t noticed, just to save everyone a little face.

And, despite everything looking all too enchanting, Mumbo wasn’t really hungry. It was more of an excuse to look busy while waiting on their target to make his big entrance. He wondered how long he could wait there before someone would notice that he was taking too much time, and obviously stalling- if anyone would notice, or care past wondering why he was there in the first place. (Maybe he’d just look very indecisive- or, hopefully, they’d be more focused on Grian to notice him lurking around on his own.)

Then, he was approached, and he nearly jumped out of his own skin at the sound of a new voice.

“Hello.” As he looked over, he was taken aback by the sight of someone a few inches taller than him suddenly standing next to them- leaning against the table full of food, and neck tilted to the side, as if trying to meet his eyes. "Enjoying the party?"

It was an elf.

It was easy to tell from the pointed ears, though barely hidden under his flat hat, and the eyes- the bright green eyes with slitted pupils, that were blown wide in the dim lighting- nothing like what a human would have. But the difference between this elf, and any of the other elves that were at this party was simple. This one talked to him. This one was looking at him, without any traces of concern or disdain on his face. His expression seemed open, somehow- as if he asked that question, and actually expected an answer.

Just a simple icebreaker.

"Uh," Mumbo said, eloquently, because he hadn't expected someone to actually approach him. He looked over to Grian just to make sure that he wasn't getting interrogated either, but he seemed fine, so he quickly met the elf's gaze again. "Yeah."

The elf turned his head away, and briefly looked over the table full of food before he pulled something from it. It was some dessert, he could tell once it was in his sights- something that was bright yellow, cut into a squared shape, and possibly something with a lemon flavoring… but Mumbo couldn’t tell without tasting it. The elf, however, grabbed two of them. He took a bite of one, and let it rest in his mouth before he handed the other one over to Mumbo. And Mumbo, wanting to be polite, took it. Though he didn't eat it right away. He wasn't much of a dessert guy. Grian was, though- and by the time the other would notice that he hasn’t seen Mumbo in a while, he would probably appreciate having something sweet to eat when they reunited.

"How about you?" Mumbo asked in their silence, and he adjusted his grip on the dessert once he realized that it was the type of food that could crumble away if he even looked at it wrong.

The elf hummed. And, with his mouth slightly full, he responded, "Yeah, sure. It gets a little too quiet up here, sometimes. I like the company." He lived here, then. Or, at least, around the area. The elf turned to him, his smile wide, "Are you one of the suitors, then?"

It was something they considered, long before they had the security with the Ariana disguise. Mumbo looked proper, apparently, and could speak eloquently enough to seem convincing. Though he had the charm of a wet towel, according to Grian, he knew what to do, and what to say. He knew how to blend in with a crowd. But getting into a party like this was difficult without any sort of notoriety that followed someone like Ariana, so the plan was scrapped just as quickly as it was presented. "No. I'm here with my Princess Ariana."

"Hm." He looked over to the person in question, and Mumbo looked over as well.

It wasn’t hard to spot Grian in the crowd. Because while there were a lot of people wearing bright outfits, and doing their best to stand out- Grian was the only one that was wearing a bright pink dress. He was currently trying to talk to one of the many esteemed guests, his head tilted to the side, and his eyes blinking just a few too many times in an attempt to seem charming. And while he’d gotten into a conversation with some of them just a few moments ago, it seemed like his luck was starting to run out.

Even though the plan was starting to kick off, sometimes, Mumbo wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea that Grian was the one that was supposed to be in the middle of all of this. Because he was charming, and easy to talk to, but he was also a sore loser. 

In trying to talk to someone, he was immediately- politely, he judged by the body language, but quickly- brushed off. If it were Mumbo, and if he was trying to talk to someone that just left in the middle of their conversation, he’d be in shambles internally, but he would try and look at least somewhat put-together on the outside. Meanwhile, even from a distance, and even with half of his face covered, he could see Grian shooting the stranger a heated, angry glare. And if that elf turned back around, he’d be met with a look that could kill.

He’d be nicer once their target was out. That’s what they promised- sugary sweet, he swore- even if Grian was impulsive, and known to take things into his own hands. Once their target was out, and once he had to put the nice act up, he said he would play nice, and put his all into it. Mumbo's worked with him long enough to be able to trust him on that.

"Are you?" Mumbo muttered, and he hoped that the nice stranger would take his sights off of Grian, just long enough for him to be able to get his act together.

"Hm?" He repeated, tone lifting, but keeping his eye on the crowd- and possibly still on Grian. He spoke as if he was barely paying attention to what Mumbo was saying. "A suitor? No, I think that'd be a little too inappropriate." They're related then, maybe? But their target was rich- and, unless he intentionally dressed that way, Mumbo knew rich people, and they knew that they'd panic if one of their relatives showed up dressed… normally. He took another glance at the man.

He was an elf, obviously. If the ears didn't give it away, or the eyes, then the hair would. Even pinned up, and partially tucked underneath his flat hat to give off the illusion that it was short, Mumbo knew that it was long and thick, and abnormally perfect. Most of the people in the host’s family were wearing similar shades of green, but this guy was wearing a maroon blazer, and dark gray pants that matched the color of his hat. The only thing that was green was a vest he was wearing, and he only realized it when he really started to look at him.

He looked normal. As normal as one would be going to a rich party- but nothing that screamed wealthy, or fancy. Nothing that screamed royalty- because, even though this family wasn’t royalty, they were still rich, and rich people always tended to dress up like they were royals from ages ago. (As Mumbo looked further, he could see that there were scars on his body- some barely seen and present on his face, while some were just peeking through the collar of his shirt, the cuffs of raised sleeves, and behind a pair of gloves he was only starting to put on after he was done eating. But why a member of the family would have scars such as these was a mystery to him.)

“Do you think she’ll win his hand?” The elf asked, and Mumbo’s gaze snapped up from his outfit. Their eyes met briefly.

“Ariana?” At the elf’s nod, he looked back at Grian. “I… would like her to.”

“But will she, do you think?”

“Probably not.” He said honestly, quietly, “There has been a lot of tension between humans and elves, right? With the war and all.”

“It’s coming to an end, isn’t it?”

“Why does that matter? Tension is tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if he completely looked over her, and went for one of the other suitors here.”

“And… she doesn’t deserve that, does she?”

Mumbo gave the elf a look, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Do you think it’d make much of a difference- if he did pick her?”

“Not in the war.”

“No, of course not.”

Mumbo honestly thought about it for a moment. 

“I’m not sure.”

The elf nodded along and waited, but Mumbo didn’t have anything more to say about it, so the elf spoke again. “She’s definitely an interesting character. I think… if she were chosen, there would be a lot of talk about it.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The elf finally looked back to him, and he smiled, “Tell me about her.”

“What, are you interested? Because she has her sights set on someone else.”

He laughed. “I’m just curious.”

“Well. You were right about her being an interesting character. She's very… Passionate, about everything."

The elf hummed, and Mumbo swore he could see something change in his eyes as he spoke. "Any idea why she's here?"

"Love, I assume."

"But- really, though?" The elf's voice dropped an octave, making his voice sound deeper instead of quieter, "Nobody's here for love, friend.”

Mumbo looked back at Grian just in time to see that he finally noticed his partner’s long absence, and was now walking towards him. He could see the familiar furrow in Grian’s brow, and knew that he would have to prepare for a complaint, or a rant.

"You don't stand a chance against Scar, if that's what you're wondering." Mumbo muttered to the elf, finally, before Grian came within earshot.

“Mumbo.” Grian started, words already harsh on his tongue, but before he could say anything, Mumbo was holding out the dessert toward him.

There was an immediate change in his demeanor. Seeing the pastry in his hand, Grian’s posture relaxed, and his tense expression fell flat. Then, as if on autopilot, Grian’s gloved hand grabbed the pastry, and he wasted no time in tucking it under his veil and eating it. It was kinda gross- Mumbo winced at the display, the sound of him chewing, and the fact that Grian was eating something with his white gloves on, when he should've taken them off a long time ago- but he didn't say anything about it. Neither did the elf, who hadn't left yet, and probably wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. 

He just hoped that the elf didn't think that Mumbo was going to introduce the two of them together.

"What do you need, my lady?"

“Hm?" He looked at him, his tone lighter than it was seconds earlier. And, though he was still eating, he said, "Oh, I need you to dance with me.” And he must’ve seen Mumbo’s immediate displeasure, or he must’ve known that Mumbo would’ve been against the idea, because he started talking- fast, “Nobody else will! I’ve asked just about everyone here, and they either say no, or they just ignored me. And it’s fine, but…” 

Under his veil, he took another bite, possibly shoving the last of the pastry into his mouth, and Mumbo took the chance to talk before he wouldn’t get to again, “Do you need to dance?”

He cleared his throat. “-nobody needs to dance, Mumbo, but I want to. Otherwise, it’s just… standing around, and making small talk all night."

There was a crowd that was already forming on the floor, Mumbo realized, swinging around and keeping up with the tempo of the music that was playing- but it must've been formed recently, since Mumbo only noticed it when Grian pointed it out. (That, or he really did just get wrapped up in a conversation with a friendly stranger, and completely forgot to look at their surroundings. Which… wouldn't fare well, if their plan was to also look for a way out.)

But, despite some of the crowd dancing, there were still plenty of people standing around, and enjoying themselves.

"A lot of parties go like this, your highness."

Grian's eyes narrowed at the title, but he didn't comment on it. "If I knew that, I would've just stayed in my room all night."

Before he could say anything more about it, the elf to his side held out another pastry- a cookie, by the looks of it, with purple frosting on the top of it. And, instead of him holding it out to Mumbo, he was clearly giving it to Grian.

“I’d be happy to dance with you.”

It was like Grian was just noticing him for the first time. Even though he was talking with Mumbo earlier, and hadn’t moved since Grian showed up in the picture, he looked at the stranger as if he’d just appeared out of thin air in the middle of their conversation. Suddenly, he was putting an act on, and Mumbo noticed the subtle change in his stance long before he started talking again.

He took him in, looking him up and down before he accepted the cookie being given to him.

“Really?” His voice was pitched perfectly. And, quickly, the cookie was under his veil, and being eaten.

“Mhm.”

Grian finished the pastry pretty quickly after that. He seemed to smooth out the front of his dress- but Mumbo knew that he was wiping away anything that'd gotten on his gloves- before holding his own hand out, and waiting for the elf to take it. And when he did, he was pulled away from Mumbo, and let into the thick of the crowd. As he was being pulled away, the elf looked back at Mumbo to give him a wide grin, as if to say- Hey, look! She wants to dance with me!

And Mumbo, not having the heart to try and convince him otherwise, gave a strained smile in turn.

Because this wasn't the first time he and Grian have been undercover, and it definitely wasn't the first time either of them have gotten along with a couple strangers. Sometimes, they were just friendly people that'd inadvertently helped with their hit. Maybe, if they played their cards right- and if Mumbo's hunch was true, and this was someone that was more important than they were letting on- then he could be an important asset to them. Mumbo already had a nice talk with him. He and Grian were excitedly making their way to the dance floor, arms wrapped around each other- and if he wasn't misreading anything, then it was clear that the elf was at least somewhat interested in Grian. Even if he wasn't the suitor chosen, this elf could be their way in, and their backup plan. 

Because even though Grian was brash, and sometimes difficult- he was still charming, and endearing. And if he wanted to, he'd have the elf wrapped around his finger by the end of the night.

The background music was fast-paced, and when he looked out, he saw that everyone was still trying to keep with the tempo. Grian and the elf passed into the crowd seamlessly, and started dancing.

Mumbo watched it all from a distance. How Grian could move in such a puffy, frilly skirt without tripping over himself was something that Mumbo would have to ask him about later. Because, as far as he knew, the dress was low, and he definitely saw Grian hitching it up a few times to walk around more comfortably. But here, in dancing with this friendly stranger, Grian's dress seemed to move with him in tandem, and add onto the marvel. If anyone else had been paying as much attention to them, it would've been a sight to behold. In turn, the elf dancing with him looked surprised, and it almost looked like he was struggling while trying to keep up.

With this sort of dance, partners were switched, and it flowed together nicely. The other people he was dancing with didn't seem to be too excited over having him as a dance partner, but Grian looked pleased enough for both of them. And though Mumbo should've been keeping his eyes on him, he glanced over to the friendly stranger, and saw that the elf couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Grian.

Hook, line, sinker.

Mumbo kept an eye on the friendly stranger. He noticed that, as partners switched around, he seemed to acknowledge them for a second, but then his eyes would always fall back to Grian again. And, even as they were dancing, he'd always be moving toward him. Eventually, they were together again. And, as the song ended in an abrupt, loud tone- the two of them struck a pose. The elf leaned Grian into a dip, and Grian kicked his leg up, and tilted his head back- possibly making the dip more difficult for the both of them to hold. Mumbo was worried that Grian's veil might fall off, or that by kicking his skirt up, he was treating some poor stranger to an unflattering view- but, before anyone could really notice, Grian was upright again, and the elf was holding onto his arm carefully, as if he was afraid that he might fall over.

And, as another song started up again, they both made their way back over to Mumbo.

The majority of the night was spent with the three of them- Mumbo, Grian, and this new elf that had just inserted himself in their little group. Which sounded mean- considering that he was welcome there, and it wasn't bad company- but it was also true.

At some point, the three of them retreated to one of the many empty tables off to the side, and they talked. (Though Grian was against the idea of it early, he managed to completely tire himself out from dancing, and finally decided that small talk would be fine- so long as he didn’t get bored again.)

In the middle of a steady conversation, Grian suddenly looked pensive.

“When do you think the prince is debuting?” He asked the elf sweetly, and the elf only looked confused at the subject change.

“Prince?”

“Scar.”

“Well… I’d hardly call him a prince.” Grian and Mumbo would disagree, saying that he was a prince in everything but an official title- considering riches, and notoriety- but the two of them didn’t share anything more than a passing, agreeing glance at each other. “And- it’s his debut, isn’t it? He’ll show up when he wants to.”

“Even if it takes all night?”

“Even then.” He attested, and Mumbo frowned as Grian sighed.

Because, while he’s never been to an elf’s debut party, he’s been to plenty of other parties- and, usually, the whole point of it was to bring attention to the one the party was about. That meant that the center of attention could be introduced early on, and the people would celebrate by seeing the person they were gathering for. Usually, it never took this long.

Mumbo didn’t have a way to tell the time- but judging by his own patience, and looking out on the crowd, he wondered if there were other people feeling the same way. He had the startling realization that it might’ve been taking… too long for the elf to show up.

“At this point, he’ll probably never show.”

The elf hummed.

Then, to their surprise, he stood up.

“It was lovely to meet the both of you-” He said, moving out of the way to push his chair into the table, “But I’m afraid I’ll have to be going, now.”

They exchange goodbyes- and it wasn't until after he left when Mumbo realized that neither of them caught his name, and neither of them knew if they’d ever get the chance to see him again. (At this party, anyway- Mumbo was sure that once everything was over, they wouldn't get the chance to bump into him again. Hopefully.)

“He was nice, wasn’t he?”

Grian watched the door intensely, sort of distracted. Still, he nodded. "Do you think he was just interested in humans?"

It could be reasonable to assume that. Maybe that's why he approached Mumbo in the first place. Maybe he was also just curious about the elusive Princess Ariana, even though he barely asked questions concerning her and her family. In the end, he just made the wait for their target a tad more entertaining.

"Either way," Mumbo concluded, "He danced with you, and he was nice to me, so that's a plus in my book."

-

In the middle of a separate conversation, the music suddenly slowed to a stop.

Everyone looked in the same direction- towards the large, beautiful staircase leading down to the ballroom. And finally, the arching door leading to the ballroom opened up. It revealed a single person standing there, hands placed behind their back and eyes sweeping over the room as soon as he entered it. The person- dressed in rich greens and adorned with red accessories- descended from the top. And although they were small in comparison to the large staircase, they made their way down gracefully yet quickly, leaving no room for an awkward pause.

It didn’t take long for them to realize that it was Scar- their target- making his appearance. But it also didn’t take long for them to recognize the same elf that was sitting at their table just moments ago, just wearing a different outfit, and carrying himself in a completely different way. This, Mumbo thought, was how he expected him to dress and act when they first met with him. Head upturned, slightly, and looking calm and collected instead of… goofy, and easy to talk to.

“You’re kidding.” Grian deadpanned- and he was quiet as he said it, but his voice was still unpitched. And, as Mumbo noticed, he lightly flicked Grian’s arm. “What!” He pitched his voice, and though it was difficult to do while straining his voice, he still talked as quietly as possible, leaning in closer to Mumbo, “It’s- him. We’ve been talking to our target this whole time, and we didn’t even notice it was him-!”

“G.” He snapped.

When Grian looked back, he saw that Scar was walking in their direction- seeming to ignore the other attendees trying to get his attention. He looked upon them with a pleasant smile on his face- and when Grian finally realized that he was going to approach them, in front of this crowd, he suddenly stood up straight, and tried to look just as collected as Scar did. Mumbo saw a few different expressions crossing his face- and he couldn’t tell if he was genuinely surprised, or just trying to look the part.

Scar stopped in front of them, and he held out his hand.

“Princess Ariana.” And, as he took his hand, he also brought it up to press a kiss to the back of it- far more formal than he’d been moments ago. Grian played the part of the swooning lady, looking just a tad too bedazzled, his other hand moving to hide the part of his face covered by his veil. “Do you want to dance?”

“Yes.” Grian said a little too quickly, and with a light laugh, Scar helped him stand up again, and helped move him to the dance floor. The music, he realized, picked up a little as Scar made his entrance- still slow, but playing noticeably louder.

The second dance they shared was a lot different than the first. 

Where the first one was a little more carefree, and they were generally trying to see how fast and how much they could move at once- this one followed the slow tune of the music, and it was a lot more structured. They spun, and Grian easily followed Scar’s lead. Instead of them being passed off to new dance partners, or them being separated midway through, it was just the two of them, in the center of it all.

Mumbo watched it from a distance. 

He eyed the crowd's displeased or confused looks, and he watched out for anyone that might see to interrupt it… but, for the most part, everyone seemed fine with just watching and waiting at the sides, so he found himself relaxing a little. This was good. Everyone's focus was on the estranged Princess Ariana, and her new love interest. They were getting closer- and, if they took what Scar had said about him beforehand into account, then that meant that he was interested in him, and that meant that a whole new slew of opportunities were opening for them.

Grian wouldn't try something in front of so many people. But Mumbo still waited, and prepared. The dance ended, and they separated easily- with Scar turning around, and finally greeting some of the other guests, while Grian walked back over to where he and Mumbo were sitting. But, instead of taking his seat again, his hand moved to hold onto the back of Mumbo's chair, and leaned some of his weight against it. When he looked up at him, he noticed that there was a more serious expression on his face.

"I need some air." 

Mumbo didn't need to be told twice.

-

"It was getting stuffy in there." 

Then, after a beat, Grian pulled the veil down, and inhaled deeply. When he exhaled seconds later, Mumbo could visibly see his breath because of the cold mountain air. Mumbo could also see his teeth- unnaturally sharp, and just… casually out in the open as he continued to breathe through his mouth.

"Dude."

"Nobody's outside, it's fine."

Grian could've pulled off the disguise without the use of the veil. Because of the way his hair was styled, it clipped and covered most of the feathers around his face really well. At that point, the only thing the veil would be covering was his teeth.

Mumbo sighed, and watched a cloud of his own breath lift in front of his face, and disappear.

From where they were standing, he got a good view of a beautiful garden in the distance. Mumbo knew what gardens at mansions usually looked like- meticulously well kept by a herd of gardeners, symmetrical and kept to a strict protocol. Even a twig too long would ruin the whole- or so the keepers would say.

This one seemed to be much more wild. As he looked out, he could barely spot the big wall that marked the end of the property, drowned out by long grass, and large evergreen trees piercing the sky with their sharp tops. There were some organized gardens at the bottom- flowerbeds, big bushes, fruits and vegetables growing at the side of stone paths that wound around the whole property. Still, Mumbo was not used to this sort of natural look, and he wondered if they truly let the vegetation take its course, or if even this was handcrafted in such a specific way to give off the illusion of nearly untouched nature.

Mumbo only knew human gardens, though- so he sort of doubted that this was man-made. Elves had a very different attitude towards nature, he believed.

"Why would he do that?" Grian broke their silence. He was staring out at the horizon as well, though Mumbo doubted that he was having similar thoughts. "I… we didn't let our guard down, did we?"

"No," Mumbo assured. "And he could have a lot of reasons. Maybe he wanted to see what people were like without knowing who he was."

"Obviously. I just mean… Why us?”

"We're- I'm human. It's interesting." Mumbo folded his arms on the balcony railing. "He took you for a ride, didn't he?"

"Oh, don't even say-" Grian covered his mouth with the palm of his hand. His next words were slightly muffled. "He sure knows his dances. And his words."

"What was he saying?"

The light might've been playing with his eyes, but Grian's face appeared just slightly pink. "Honestly, nothing important. Just guy stuff."

"Guy stuff."

"Yup." Grian's fingers drummed against the railing.

Mumbo wanted to press further, but if it was important to the mission, Grian would no doubt tell him. They fell into a comfortable silence, and Mumbo didn’t mind it one bit.

It was interrupted once again, a few minutes into it.

"Hello?"

They both turned around at the same time. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Grian quickly looking back- fixing his veil, presumably before Scar could get a good look at his face. Mumbo didn't move his sights off of Scar. 

For the most part, Scar met Mumbo’s gaze- only looking away when Grian turned to face him again, veil covering his face, and trying a little too hard to seem like he wasn’t just caught off guard. The elf tilted his head with a plain look on his face.

“Are you two leaving?” Scar continued. “I was hoping to get the chance to talk to you, again.”

They could kill him right now, Mumbo quickly realized- and, realistically, how long would it take before anyone else noticed that he was dead? 

The elf took his sweet time with showing up at the party in the first place, and judging by the fact that he was outside without anyone trailing behind him, he guessed that it’d be a while before they’d realize his disappearance- if anyone bothered to look for him, anyway. They could kill him, dump his body into one of the many bright, colorful flower bushes surrounding the perimeter of his home- into bushes the same color as his robes, making it difficult for anyone to see him right off the bat if they did go looking for him- and they could turn around, and go down the mountain as quickly as they’d come up it. 

And sure, it was easier said than done- but after that, it’d be a matter of laying low until they were paid. He expected Grian to be thinking something similar.

But Grian wasn’t making any moves. No signal.

"We're thinking of turning in for the night- you're still offering a place for us to stay, aren’t you?" Grian asked, casually, and Mumbo kept a close eye on the scene. “Your servants did take my luggage. I’d hate to leave everything behind.”

“Well, of course, but-” One of Scar's eyebrows raised, and he frowned. "So early? The party's just started."

"...My lady is very punctual about her sleeping schedule. And it's starting to get very late."

“You were getting swarmed, anyway.” Grian agreed, “We didn’t think we’d have the chance to say goodnight, so we didn't try to.”
“I’m here now. I could even show you to your rooms, if you’d like-”

“Why were you looking for us, again?”

Then, Scar’s expression changed. He looked off to the side, and he suddenly seemed- nervous?

"Well…” He started, before he met Grian’s eye, “As you know, the whole point of my debut was to find someone for me to marry. And…" Scar looked over to Mumbo. Mumbo glanced back at Grian for a second, and then moved to get out of his way, seeing that it was supposed to be a moment for the two of them.

"Yeah?" Grian prompted.

"Since you're one of my suitors… I wanted to ask if you would be interested in marrying me." He put, rather bluntly, and neither could hide the shock on their faces even if they wanted to.

-

The room Grian was staying in for the night- and, possibly, for the foreseeable future- was completely decorated 

The red, patterned wallpaper in the hallways bled into the room, but the walls were slightly covered by a few tapestries, depicting animals and different scenes of nature. There was a rug covering the ground, a desk with a lantern and mirror on it, and a large bed at the very end of the room. Tucked into the corner facing the door was a fireplace, with a couch set in front of it, clearly meant for a more long-term stay. He wondered briefly if all of the guest rooms were just as lavish. (He wondered if his own room- the one just next door, Scar had said, if he would choose to use it- looked just as nice.)

"Have a good night, my lady." Scar said, and Grian giggled a little before he slowly shut the door. 

In turning around to face Mumbo, Grian's face was straight- and he almost looked bored, despite everything that was happening.

"Check." Grian muttered- although his voice was already back to normal, and he was already pulling his gloves off, and going through the motions of making himself more comfortable.

Mumbo checked around the room briefly. He looked on the shelves and on the desk, and swiped his hands around the undersides of the bed- but he didn't spot anything right off the bat. And though he couldn't sense magic the same way Grian could, something definitive, there was still always a slight buzz in the air whenever magic or glyphs were being used. And, unfortunately, in a place like this, it was impossible to get rid of that small, lingering buzz, presumably due to the magical barrier that surrounded everything.

"Nothing that I can see, but it's a little hard to detect anything…"

"Is it because of the barrier?" Grian muttered in response, but he sounded distracted. Mumbo turned just in time to see Grian struggling with getting his dress off.

The veil, hat, and gloves were set on the small table. The dress was unbuttoned as much as it could be without being taken off, the sleeves and collar loose around his wrists and neck, and he was trying to reach behind and untie the back of it. Mumbo could see that he was clearly struggling- long, clawed fingernails grasping weakly at the strings, and trying to get it off without shredding the back of the dress in the process.

"Need help?"

Grian froze. Then he sighed. His hands moved down to his sides, and then moved forward into a stretch that popped the bones of his shoulders. Mumbo came up from behind him, and started the process of getting the dress off.

"I don't know why they made these things so difficult to take off." And, as the dress became looser around his chest, Grian sighed again, and his shoulders slumped.

"It was your idea." Mumbo muttered, and just barely missed getting playfully smacked by Grian, "If you hit me, I'm not going to help you."

"Maybe I should be getting my fiancé to do it instead." He snarked, with no real heat or anger behind it.

"Please, do."

In the end, Mumbo pulled back, and let the dress drop to the floor. Grian was left in a pair of shorts, and a corset- which Mumbo quickly helped him take off as well. 

He shivered, and brought his hands up to rub his arms. Mumbo could see the mousy brown feathers covering small parts of his body- the more visible ones under his arms and around his neck- puff up as his body tensed. Faintly, Mumbo swore that he saw the feathers curled and hidden around his ears twitch as well, but they remained clipped to his hair, so he didn't worry too much. 

"God, it's freezing here." He muttered with a slight chatter to his teeth. He dropped to the ground, and started looking around his luggage, "What did I pack-"

"Not much." And, as if to prove his point, Grian's fingers carefully pinched around the fabric of another lacy, pretty dress. He frowned, and set it back in.

"We'll shop later. I'll need to find something a lot warmer, if this is the sort of weather I need to get used to."

"What happens if you and Scar have to share a bed?"

Grian paused to think. Then, his fingers started to run through his hair.

"I don't know how long this is going to last." He said, finally, "So I'm not really worried."

"But…?"

"I'll get a long nightgown. And maybe I'll just undress with the lights off- but I don't think it's going to last that long."

"Hm."

With nothing to dress into, Grian stayed in his shorts. He collapsed onto the bed with a huff, and ducked under the covers. Mumbo swore he heard the sound of muffled, muted curses- and he watched as the blankets curled around him as he moved, and pulled the blankets closer.

"Have a good night, then-"

Grian's head poked out from under the covers.

"You’re not joining me?"

With a weird glare on his face, he sat his body up slightly, shifting around to lean his weight against his elbows. Looking casual, but strained at the same time. His long hair wasn't tied up anymore, and was instead let loose, and curling slightly against his shoulders. Mumbo could see the faint outline of feathers that were hidden under his hair- no longer clipped down, and free to move- but still difficult to spot if you didn’t know what to look for.

"They have a room for me next door."

"Yeah, and it's freezing."

Grian was right. Even as Mumbo stood there, clothed and dressed to the nines, there was still a slight chill that he couldn't manage to shake off.

They were used to sharing a sleeping space. Whether it be on the bed, or on the ground- they knew that the best way to conserve heat was to share it. And right now- even if they weren't actively freezing to death, and could probably sleep through the night without each other's company- they both knew that it'd be easier to share. And besides, even if the two of them weren't cold, it would probably be wise to stick as close together as possible. While they weren't in any danger themselves, they were still in a new area, and in a situation they've never really put themselves in before. 

Unlike most of their hits- which were short and sweet, and usually set in an area that was easy to make a quick escape from- they knew that this one was going to last a while. They were on a wide mountaintop, with only one visible way in or out- and if they were in any trouble, it'd be near impossible to leave.

It was near impossible to get in, Mumbo thought, as he slowly started kicking off his own shoes, and as Grian relaxed against the mattress with a smug, satisfied look on his face. 

Posing as Princess Ariana was easy. Estranged, and isolated from her own family- there was no reason why they'd be looking for her here, or why they would even care about her whereabouts. And yet, her name still carried through the rumors of the different lords and aristocrats that lived around here, and she was famous enough for the attendees to know who she was- and, clearly, they knew her well enough to know that someone of her status was definitely worthy enough to be aiming for Scar's hand. (Rich enough, even. Mumbo sometimes thought about the family, and how they'd react if they ever realized the person they let into their home was penniless.)

The hard part, mostly, was putting everything together. Because while Mumbo knew the basics of looking and acting rich, Grian did not- and it showed. He hated sitting up straight, and could somehow never keep a constant scowl off his face whenever he was talking to someone he didn't like- part of the reason for the veil, Mumbo figured. But even with his face covered, and even though he could mimic voices with incredible accuracy due to his avian traits, Grian could barely keep himself from lifting up his accent comically, and making himself sound silly. It was intentional, too, and Mumbo could remember the two of them practicing her voice, and failing every time because Grian had decided to have fun with it.

(Mumbo was usually never so serious. But something about this job- the fact that it was going to be much harder than their previous jobs, and much harder to make their escape- that made him anxious over the whole thing. He wanted, and needed, the whole thing to go perfectly.

Then? They were rich.)

The minute Mumbo got under the covers, Grian curled closer to him, arm wrapping around his torso, face pressed against his back, and he sighed in content. He rubbed Mumbo's shoulder, and leaned him into a false sense of security before his cold feet found their way to Mumbo's leg, and stayed glued there despite him flinching and trying to pull it away.

The covers were pulled over part of Grian’s face, and just reached over his own shoulders.

"How long do you think we'll be able to keep this up?"

"For as long as we need to."

"If you keep complaining about wearing that dress, we'll have to be a little quick about it."

"I'm fine with it being a dress, I just wish it was looser. And a nicer color."

"It looks nice on you."

Grian sighed, again, "Imagine if it were red, though."

"Why didn't you go with red, then?"

"Her highness preferred pink." Grian muttered, voice lifting in an accent that was undeniably mocking.

"Does it matter that much?"

"It's what she's known for."

"The color of her dress?" Mumbo thought that she would be known for plenty of other things, by now.

"Pink, or a light blue, with matching ribbons in her hair. I thought a hat would suffice." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "I wanted to be realistic- maybe I should've found something flashier."

"You didn't need to try to stand out, much." He was the only human there, and the only one that was wearing a bright color- apart from another girl, that'd gone in a bright yellow dress. All of that, on top of the fact that it was Princess Ariana wearing that dress.

"She liked sticking out, though. More than usual, even when it's not necessary… maybe I shouldn't have been so reserved…" And, as Grian said it, he noticed the way his voice sounded significantly quieter, like he was starting to drift off to sleep. "She's insufferable, Mumbo…"

"You're already insufferable, so you got that covered."

Grian lightly hit his shoulder, but it was more of a playful nudge than anything else. Mumbo’s lips, in turn, curled up into a small smile.

After a moment of silence, Mumbo finally closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The servants were, thankfully, very keen on privacy.

And though they were surprised to see Mumbo on the other side of Grian’s door the morning after Scar’s debut party- just as surprised as Mumbo was, it seemed, when they almost entered without knocking twice- they didn't question it. They let him take the tray of food meant for Grian, and let him set it on the desk by the door. When asked about the princess, Mumbo said that she wanted some privacy, and possibly wouldn't be leaving her room for a long while. They understood. 

They let him know that Scar was an early riser, and that he’d been waiting for them to wake up for a couple of hours now. So, once they were ready, all they would have to do was find one of the servants to lead them to Scar, and they would be all set. 

(They also let Mumbo know that there was still food being made in the kitchen, but that he would have to be the one to dish himself up- and that he'd have to do it soon, if he wanted anything good. Along with that, they asked him to either set the dishes and tray near the door for someone else to pick up and clean later, or to set them by the sink in the kitchen. 

With a weird, growing sense of nostalgia, Mumbo thanked them, and shut the door.)

Unbeknownst to them, the Princess they wanted to see was… in a less than presentable position on the bed- sprawled out on his back, somehow taking up the space that Mumbo had been sleeping in just minutes earlier, mouth open and drooling…

Mumbo placed a hand on Grian’s shoulder, and shook him as hard as he could. With a sleepy mumble, accompanied by the sound of his dry lips smacking together, Grian finally peeled his eyes open.

"I have breakfast."

That seemed to immediately get his attention. He sat up quickly, and looked around the room- eyes still narrowed, and looking like his mind was still trying to catch up with what Mumbo was telling him. Then, with a sigh, Mumbo brought the tray over to the bed- turning just in time to see Grian sitting up, and staring at him.

"Is that for the both of us?" He asked. The second the tray touched the sheets, he was looking through the different foods being served, and he frowned a little when he saw that it was mostly void of any meat.

"I'm supposed to go to the kitchen, and serve myself."

Grian scowled, and pushed a biscuit his way. "Just share with me. You know I'm not going to finish all of this on my own." And, easily, Grian split half of the portion, and handed him the fork he used to do it. Before Mumbo could ask, Grian started to eat the meal with his hands. 

Already used to his habits, Mumbo didn't even bat an eye. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and began to eat in small bites- careful not to accidentally hit Grian’s hand as he did so. "I don't know if the rest of the family would appreciate you eating with your hands."

“Doesn’t matter what I’m doing in private, does it?” 

“It only matters in front of them. Maybe you should practice.”

Grian's eyes rolled. "If I'm going to be eating in front of the family, I want you by my side, and I want you to be served as well. So I’ll just copy you."

"I don't know how well that's going to go over with them."

"It's going . If they have any issues with it, they can just complain about it…."

"I doubt they will. They might be a little passive-aggressive about it, though."

"Uh-huh." He said, around a mouthful of food, "So what's the plan for today?"

Mumbo's face twisted into an unhappy frown, "I'm getting a really bad sense of deja vu from this, Grian."

"Why?" Then, as if it took him a second to realize what he was talking about, Grian blinked, "I mean- it's not… exactly the same, is it? You've just been awake longer than me, and- it's more of a debriefing between partners, anyway."

"It's not just this. It's also… dressing up, eating scraps, waking up early…" Running his employers through what they needed to do for the day, and making sure they followed the list as accurately as possible. Following his employers around, and keeping an eye on out to make sure everything was going smoothly-

The titles.

Mumbo shuddered a little.

He could understand why Grian wouldn't pick up on it right away. They only became friends at the tail-end of Mumbo’s service- and, even then, he wouldn’t know what an average working day looked like. He would see it now, in front of Scar, and in front of the other servants- but Mumbo was just thankful that he could loosen up a bit when it was just the two of them. (The thought of treating his old employers so casually- shaking them awake, instead of doing it slowly and politely, or making fun of how they chose to eat the breakfast he served them- made a stressed knot form in his stomach.)

At least it wasn’t exactly the same. At least he wasn’t the one making the breakfast, this time. At least he hadn’t woken up any earlier, and wasn’t spending his time running around and making sure the house was clean enough for his employer’s satisfaction- or doing multiple things at once, just to please all of them. At least he wouldn’t wake up with a stiff back, or go to bed with sore hands and knees, curling up and pretending like the pain wasn’t there. At least his bed was comfortable- even if it was shared, and spent with someone that tended to move around in his sleep-

And, as Mumbo recounted it, he caught the sight of a loose brown feather sticking out from the sleeve of his shirt. He quickly plucked it off, and flicked it toward Grian.

“Do you want to hide those?” Grian asked, his eyes following it as it slowly descended next to him, “In case someone comes in, and sees it.”

“They shouldn’t. Just clean up, and make the bed before we leave.”

At least it was bodyguarding, he thought. The most he’d have to do is stand around, looking intimidating yet unimportant in comparison to Grian- and maybe ask if Grian was okay a few times along the way, leaning over and talking quietly in his ear.

At least it was easy, since he wasn’t the only one doing anything, and he wasn’t expected to pick up after Scar as well. 

At least it was Grian.

“Okay, but what if they do?” Grian pressed anyway.

“Where are we supposed to be hiding them?” Then, quickly- with the hand that hadn’t been touching the food- Grian stuck the feather under the pillow. Mumbo sighed.

Grian wiped the hand on his shorts, and he kept his hand curled around his own knee. His long, sharp nails started tapping against his leg- and when Mumbo looked up, he saw that Grian suddenly looked nervous.

“Do we have to eat with the family?” He asked, “Why can’t every meal be like this? The two of us, in here. I don’t know if I want to… see anyone else.”

Mumbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “We can always ask.”

“I’m just not sure how it’ll go over. I don’t want to have to take off my gloves, or my veil-”

“We’ll be fine.” He interrupted, and Grian’s mouth suddenly shut with an audible click, “What brought this on?”

“We don’t usually take this long with missions. I think- it just hit me.”

A hit would usually last a day, maximum. And sure, maybe they spent a longer amount of time with planning, but those stages were off and on, and never on the day of the actual mission. If this went how their usual missions would, Scar would’ve already been dead, and they would’ve been on their way home.

“We don’t.”

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

“We won’t.”

The look on Grian’s face was a little intense. “We’ll have a lot of opportunities to. I don’t know how long we should spend with this, or how long it’ll drag out-”

“The minute we find an exit, we’ll go through with it. How about that? It’s nothing to stress too much about.”

Grian didn’t respond, but he seemed to be more satisfied with that answer. He started to eat again- slow, small bites, just like Mumbo.

“Should we start looking today?”

Mumbo thought about it. “Not today. I’ll try to take a look around later, though, and just walk around the perimeter. How’s that sound?"

“Good.” Grian said through a deep exhale. Then, the exhale turned into something that sounded close to a shaky laugh, “What if- we pulled it off on his wedding day?”

Mumbo shook his head. “Too many people, and too much attention on him-”

“I know, but what if?” Grian was saying. And, from there, he went off on a tangent- saying how something like that definitely would've been newsworthy, even if the family was isolated, and even if the wedding invites were only sent out to the rest of Scar’s family. Scar, just debuted, killed in cold blood by his wife on the day of their wedding- or, killed the night before, and discovered on the day their wedding was supposed to be on… Maybe the news would even reach their client long before they got the chance to get in contact with them again, and they wouldn’t even have to bring any sort of proof along with them.

It was a little messed up, and certainly something that would be talked about years after the fact- Mumbo interjected- but it was still difficult.

“But, it’s dramatic.” Grian countered with a grin. “What better way to top it all off, huh? We can go out with a bang.”

"We'll still get a lot of attention. This isn't just anyone we're killing."

"I guess."

“I’ll see what I can do.” Grian huffed, and started picking at his food again. Mumbo shook his head. "Maybe we can convince Scar to go clothes shopping today."

"We aren't going to spend a long time here, and I have a few outfits to swap between-"

"I was thinking about outfits to leave in." Mumbo said, a lot more quietly, "Unless you want to be running away in one of those dresses?"

"It wouldn't be that difficult. I could handle it."

"You'd- no, you know what- try it. I don't think the client would care if one of us wasn't there to collect the reward."

"You don't mean that."

Mumbo looked at his partner's face- split into a wide grin, with something stuck to the outside of his bottom lip- and he sighed, and went back to eating his half.

"I don't."

-

Dressing Grian again had been slightly difficult.

But Mumbo knew that he would have to do it a few times- so he suffered through it, and silently hoped that he would get better at it with time. Grian was moving around throughout the whole process, balancing on the tips of his toes before dropping back down- at one point, his fidgeting almost broke the knot Mumbo was trying to tie up at the back of his dress, and the latter would have to take a slow, deep breath to keep himself from complaining about it.

Then, as if remembering who he was helping out, he quietly snipped, “Keep still.”

“You’re taking too long.”

“You can do it yourself, if you want-”

“I’m okay!” He said, quickly, “Take your time.”

This dress- pink, with careful, intricate designs sewn into the skirt- was considerably easier to put on compared to the last one. But it was still slightly difficult. This one, he knew, Grian didn’t want to touch with his clawed fingers, just to avoid accidentally ripping the design.

That meant that Mumbo was the one putting it on- carefully buttoning the back, and clipping on the collar and sleeves to hide his feathers properly. Grian didn’t touch the dress until his gloves were on, and even then, it was just to smooth out his skirt.

“How do I look?”

Mumbo gave him a once-over. "We still need to fix your hair."

That made Grian grumble, like Mumbo was insulting the way he looked, instead of saying something reasonable. Mumbo repressed a small laugh and just made Grian sit down in front of the mirror in front of the desk, smoothing his thumbs over the furrowed lines between his eyebrows before doing anything with the hair. “You’d look much cuter if your angry face was more… pouty and harmless.”

He saw Grian blink in the mirror, though it was a bit distorted- then, after a short grin Grian slumped his shoulders and (much more purposefully) furrowed his brows again, tilting his head down so he’d have to look up much further, and jutting his lips out just so slightly. He pitched his voice. “How dare you insult your princess.”

Mumbo took the comb off the vanity, leaning over to take a peek at Grian’s undistorted face. “That’s more like it!” He laughed, and when he leaned back Grian’s face was back to a relaxed neutral expression. “I have no idea how you do that.”

“I can only do it if I remember to.” Grian shrugs, tilting his head back to give Mumbo better access to his hair. Mumbo just combed a few loose strands back, and then properly hid the feathers, before clipping them down.

"Alright." Grian said as they exited the room, voice low and casual. “Where to next, Mumbo?”

"We just need to find a servant that can take us to where Scar is." Mumbo reported, "And pitch your voice."

"Pitch your voice." Grian repeated, in a raspy yet otherwise perfect repeat of Mumbo’s voice. And when Mumbo lightly smacked him, Grian cried, in a perfect yet mocking rendition of the Ariana voice, "Don't hit me!" 

"Keep your voice down!"

"You just hit your princess!"

Mumbo audibly huffed, but didn’t say much of anything else.

The mood swings were starting to make his head spin- where was the anxious man that was so scared of getting caught just moments ago, and why was he left with someone that loved toeing the line between being safe, and getting caught? 

Mumbo wasn't usually so strict about it- circumstances were different, and they were clearly going about it the wrong way. While Grian was anxious, and silly, and seemingly bouncing off the walls with nervous energy- Mumbo was just trying to get through everything with a clear and calm head on his shoulders-

And by clear and calm, it was more stressed and tense. His shoulders were raised slightly during the walk, locked in place, and they've been tense ever since taking on this mission- but with Grian being stressed alongside him, it was making everything significantly worse. He felt like he was on that carriage ride, again- breathing, and trying to relax against the seat, but always being shaken up whenever he was anywhere close to calm.

Mumbo started to walk a little faster, and Grian immediately tried to keep up. This, he hoped, would stave off some of the energy that Grian had suddenly gotten after waking up, and would make this whole process a lot more seamless. (The walking, he found, was starting to calm him down a little as well- since it was the closest thing he could get to pacing around a room.)

And when they finally spotted a servant, Grian sped past him- hitching up his skirt, and moving so fast that Mumbo was worried that he'd trip over it, and land flat on his face.

"Excuse me!" Grian called out to the servant, his voice suddenly so shrill that Mumbo couldn't help but wince, "I'm looking for my fiancé!"

-

Scar's face subtly lit up when they walked into the manor’s personal library.

"Oh, good morning!" And while Mumbo quietly thanked the frazzled servant that led them there, Grian was walking into the room- quick in his steps, but considerably slower than he'd been walking earlier. "I thought you two would be sleeping all day."

The elf was lounging on a large, cushioned chair. There was a book in his lap- cracked wide open, and resting against both of his legs- but when Mumbo tried to look over at what was written in it, he realized that it wasn't written in Common. And, looking around the rest of the library- the large, geometric walls that were covered in shelves upon shelves of books of different shapes and sizes- Mumbo wondered if any of them were written in Common. 

(In looking at it- really looking at it- he marveled at the design of the library. The lining of the upper walls, and the spiraling staircase at the end of the room were all made of dark oak, and had intricate, beautiful designs carved into it- complementing the red wallpaper that was barely visible past the bookshelves. He wondered, for a moment, who'd designed it. Then he remembered his future plans- and he wondered if he could find out the architects, or builders involved, and he wondered if he could get them to build an entire house like this when this was all over.)

"It's quite early, isn't it?" Grian said, but Mumbo was barely listening. With his attention turned upward, he was staring up at the chandelier hovering above their heads, and the beautiful swirls of paint that covered the high ceiling-

"All of the other guests left already." Scar was explaining, "But I'm sure you're not worried about that."

"None of them were exactly fond of me."

“I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Grian inhaled like he wanted to refute, but kept it to himself. “Well, I don’t think I’ll see them again anyway.”

“Yeah,” Scar laughed politely. “It’s not like they’d be invited to the wedding.”

And- Mumbo felt it, but Grian paused very suddenly. “Wedding,” He repeated. When he looked over, he saw that Grian’s eyes seemed distant, “It’s odd to think about invitations.”

"Well- we'll have to start with planning a wedding, won't we?"

"We won't be married for a while."

Scar's smile dimmed slightly, "We're trying to see if we can have the ceremony by the end of the month."

That finally caught Mumbo’s attention. Similarly, Grian's face seemed to fall.

"That's a little soon, isn't it?" Grian asked- and though his tone seemed fine, Mumbo could hear that there was an anxious twinge in his voice.

Scar finally shut the book in his lap. With what looked to be a strenuous effort, he lifted the book up, and he set it back down on the table beside him. And it's only after he moved the book when Mumbo noticed that he was still wearing the gloves from the night before- and he wondered if it was just a method to protect the wear of the books, if they were old, or if he was just the kind of person that liked to wear gloves so often- somebody that wouldn't blink twice, seeing Grian's own constant need to be wearing them.

"It'll have to be sooner, rather than later." He explained, using the arms of the chair to help him in sitting upright- though Mumbo couldn't help but notice his hands shaking a little as he did so. If he was physically weak- then that meant that they could have a clear advantage. (They could kill him right now if they wanted to, and it would be easy. There weren't any guards posted outside the door, and the servant that led them there would be long gone by now.)

With a casual swish of his green robes, Scar's legs crossed, and he was sitting up so straight he was close to Grian's standing height while he was still sitting down. "I'm afraid we won't have the time to plan something as big, or grand as you might want it to be. But we'll try our best!"

"I'm sure it'll be just fine."

"We already have servants running around, and preparing a possible spot in my garden for the ceremony."

"So- we're having it on your property? No deciding on venues, or anything?"

"I'm afraid that can't be subject to change. But we can talk about any food you might want to be served, or any decorations you might have in mind- oh! And if there's anyone you'd like to invite, we'll have to get started on that right away-"

"Oh, don't bother with that!" Grian laughed- light, and comical- sounding completely fake in Mumbo’s ears, "I'm practically disowned from the rest of my family! There's nobody in the outside world that I'm thinking of inviting."

Then, at Scar's blank expression, he giggled, raising his hand up to his veil- as if he were trying to look bashful. 

"O-kay." Scar said, and Mumbo swore that he heard Grian repeat it under his breath, "But the other offers are still on the table."

Grian hummed, as if he were actually thinking about it, and he started to walk around the room. Mumbo could see his eyes darting around- but whether he was looking for something relating to the mission, or just appreciating the interior was completely lost on him. Knowing him, it could've been either one- Grian's always had his eye on expensive things, and he could always appreciate it, even if it's never been something that was in his grasp. He could definitely picture Grian guessing the price of certain furniture and decorations- and Mumbo learned that he was scarily accurate at doing so. Just by examining a jewel for a few seconds, he could precisely say if it was authentic, how much it weighed, and how much you’d get for it if you decided to sell it. (But he always said that last part very dejectedly, since he usually preferred to keep them to himself.)

Then, Grian moved to be standing right behind Scar. The elf watched him curiously- almost cautiously, and Mumbo couldn’t help but share the sentiment- until Grian's arms wrapped around his neck, and he carefully placed his chin on top of Scar’s shoulder, leaning forward so that his perfect posture would break. The back of the chair was a little tall, and Grian was barely reaching over it, but it looked fine. Scar looked surprised over Grian draping himself over him, and being so touchy, but he didn't seem to object to it.

"Can I ask a favor?" Scar seemed a little tense, though, and Mumbo watched the interaction intently- even if he was sure that he wouldn't try anything. 

"Yes, princess?" Scar asked, trying to move his head to face him, but Grian stayed close. He leaned his cheek against Scar's shoulder, near his neck, and used one of his hands to rub his shoulder.

"If I'm expected to stay here for… well, the rest of my life, I'm assuming- then I should have more than a few dresses. Shouldn't I?" He leaned a little closer, "Is there any way we can go shopping?"

Mumbo glanced over at the door for a second, just to make sure that it was shut, and that nobody could be listening in. He felt himself running red at the idea of someone finding them like this. While they were fiancés, it felt inappropriate for a princess to be intimate like this already, even if it was just a few innocent touches. Mumbo watched Grian’s hand run over Scar’s arm, squeezing his biceps to emphasize a word, and looking up at him sweetly.

Mumbo could not rip his eyes off the subtle motions. Maybe he was being paranoid, and maybe this entire job was setting his nerves alight, but something about the open display of affection freaked him out, and he wished that Grian was just a tad less overt about it. A hand on his shoulder would’ve been fine, in this scenario.

Under the prickling feeling of being watched, Mumbo ripped his gaze away from Grian’s hand, and saw that Scar was staring at him.

His expression neutral, if not a bit curious, but clearly set on him. As Mumbo resigned to hold the staring contest, posture growing stiff and expression becoming guarded, Scar then got distracted by Grian again. A surprised smile made its way back to his face.

Grian finally detached himself, and it felt like a wave of relief for Mumbo. Somewhat belatedly, he noticed that Grian had been speaking the whole time, and that he hadn’t been paying any attention. 

He was picking at the fabric of his dress, face sullen and sad. "I travel a lot. I didn't really have a place to settle down before this…"

Scar's face softened. "What sort of dresses are you looking for? Any particular designs?"

"I'm not picky." He said absent-mindedly. Then, as if having it listed off the top of his head, Grian rattled, "I like long skirts, and I'll wear anything pink, or- any light colors, really-"

"And red." Mumbo added, after a beat. Grian's head suddenly snapped up, eyes wide, but he didn't say anything right away.

"Red?" Scar asked curiously.

"It's a- recent infatuation." Grian said, a little nervously.

"Okay. I can get my servants to look into it-"

"Oh- Scar." The elf turned back around, "I was wondering if… we could go?"

"We?" Scar asked.

"The three of us. Out, shopping." He explained sheepishly, "It could be a good chance to get out of here for a while… and really get to know each other."

Scar's next smile was shaky, slightly. "I'm sorry- I'm too busy to make the trip today. But if you still want to go shopping- anything you want is on me."

"Really?" Mumbo wasn't sure if the swooning Grian was doing was fake or not. Give him something shiny, and he's yours.

"Of course! Consider it a wedding gift." He smiled, "I want you to be as comfortable as possible, for your stay here. Otherwise, I wouldn't be that good of a host- would I?"

-

It took an hour to go down to the village at the base of the mountain.

Grian didn't know if it would've been better if Scar was there. 

They hit it off really well at the debut party and, sure, Grian hadn't really gotten used to the fact that they'd been talking to Scar all night, and he wasn't so sure about how to act around him now that he turned out to be some bigshot- but he was still chatty. And nice. And if the three of them were stuck in a carriage together, they could probably think of something for all of them to talk about without getting bored- and Grian would most certainly keep up the act long enough for him to be convinced throughout the trip.

If it had to be fine, it would be. He would make it so.

It would've been so stupidly easy- leading Scar away from his home, into a place that was at least slightly concealed to hide the body, and killing him as quickly as possible. After that, it was just a matter of losing his guards and skipping town. And skipping town- that would've been even easier! The woods were practically his second home. He had a talent for navigating through unfamiliar territory, and he knew that once he reached the forest, he and Mumbo would've been home scot-free-

But Scar didn't come with them. 

And, instead of charming an elf, and killing him within 24 hours of meeting him, they were stuck in the carriage with a guard of his. 

Sitting next to Mumbo- sitting up perfectly straight, as if he were trying to intimidate them for no discernable reason- was one of Scar's most trusted. Someone that wore armor, but neglected to wear a helmet- showing off a head of white hair, and heterochromic eyes. 

(And they were only two different colors because one of the eyes had a nasty scar running through the side of it- something that made him all the more intimidating, on the outside. If he could survive an injury like that, then it was clear that he was someone that Grian didn't want to clash with-

Even though he was a competent and- dare he say- talented assassin, he mostly thrived on taking people by surprise. And while he was strong and working on gaining some more muscle, the guard was at least a head taller than him, and could definitely take him out in a fight if he needed to.)

The guard’s eyes were staring out the window, and not paying them too much attention, but his presence was still… unnerving. Scar said having one of his guards escorting them was required if they wanted to take a trip down the mountain- same as it would be if he went down, anyway- even though Grian would never consider them to be just as important as him. 

But there they were- and there he was. Staying in the cart with the two of them, and not even allowing him to spend the hour of their trip getting comfortable, or ranting to Mumbo about the missed opportunity that he almost had.

Grian knew that the whole trip was going to be spent in a bored, uncomfortable silence. But it only really hit about 20 minutes into the ride that it wasn't a trip he was going to last through without losing his mind first. 

Mumbo seemed to be just fine- one glance at his partner, and he saw that he was similarly staring out the window. Paying absolutely no attention to him!

Grian adjusted his sitting position. Then, with his eyes widened, he leaned forward a little- staring at Mumbo, and waiting for him to notice. And when he did notice- side-eyeing him a little, before he realized that he was staring- Grian looked away at the same time that Mumbo finally faced him. 

He tried to watch their surroundings pass by them, while also keeping an eye on Mumbo. And when Mumbo’s head eventually turned towards the window again, Grian waited a second before he looked at him again- eyebrows raising as his eyes widened, and carefully waiting to see if he'd notice.

Every time, he would realize within seconds. It happened a few times before Mumbo realized what he was doing. And on one of those times, instead of looking at Grian when he noticed him, he continued staring out the window, and instead swiftly kicked Grian in the leg. Grian let out a pained grunt in turn- breaking the once peaceful silence inside the carriage, and making the guard turn his head around curiously.

Grian suddenly made himself look thoughtful. And the minute the guard wasn't interested, Grian swung his leg, and kicked Mumbo's shin with  the same strength he'd used on him.

He could hear a sharp intake of breath, and he could swear that Mumbo was glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, but he otherwise stayed silent about it. The guard did not seem to be interested in any of it though, so Grian thought about kicking him again.

Before he could, Mumbo cleared his throat a bit tensely, "My lady. Is something wrong?"

"No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

"You seem anxious." He said, and Grian almost cackled at the tone of his voice- he would've, if it weren't for their third wheel, who was currently pretending like the whole conversation wasn't happening.

"It's just nerves. I'm supposed to be married at the end of the month, after all." And, as he spoke, Mumbo’s eyebrows raised- as if he was surprised that he just pulled that card, "It's all moving a little fast, don't you think so? Or is it just me?"

"It's nothing to worry about, your highness."

"Oh, but I will. You know it's in my nature to." And, knowing the guard wasn't paying them any attention, Mumbo was finally free to roll his eyes- so dramatic that Grian couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Of course." His tone was bored, and the furthest anyone could ever get to sounding sincere, "I'll be right by your side if you need anything."

"I don't expect anything less."

Then, finally, the town came into view.

The carriage stopped moving, but right before either of them stepped out, Mumbo said, "While we're here. Let’s see if they have a bookstore, for your sake."

"Scar has a library." The guard said- the first thing he's said in hours, if ever- and the two of them jumped at the sound of it. "If you wanted, you could've borrowed one for the trip. I'm sure there's a section we have that's in Common."

Grian cleared his throat. "Ah- thank you, I'll look into it when we're back." He agreed- as if they hadn't already been there.

When they finally stepped out, Mumbo walked out first, turning around and holding a hand out to help Grian out of the carriage.

Grian's feet hit the dirt, and some part of him knew that the ends of his skirt were going to be covered in it by the time they came back home. At the thought of it, he winced.

The town itself was painfully average. It wasn’t an important political or geographical center, nor did it have any interesting trading products, and it definitely wasn’t used as a path to a more important location. On a map, the town wouldn’t be nonexistent, but it’d definitely be small. The only really significant thing here would be the mansion up on the hill, but because of the elves' reclusiveness, it didn’t mean more than some loose stories- and it didn’t even serve as a good tourist attraction, since no one actually wanted to hike up the mountain to look at a large wall they weren’t allowed to walk past.

They were let off at a larger street, with multiple stands lining the sides. An open market, with people advertising food and utilities and clothes- though the clothes were obviously more meant for workers and not for fancy people like Ariana. With a quiet huff and a short gesture towards the center of town (where the rich people's wares were usually sold), they started their shopping session. The guard followed them as well, although Grian didn’t care about it. Scar wasn’t around anyway, so there wasn’t a real opportunity to plan around that. He could feel Mumbo’s impatient dread non-stop, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. Though Grian could currently distract himself with the high life, and Mumbo honestly couldn’t, so one of them obviously had it worse.

Speaking of the high life…

Grian stopped abruptly, and he couldn’t help but swoon at the sight of one of the stands. Mumbo walked a good distance away before noticing that he was no longer on his side, and with some unsavory words under his breath, he walked back to meet with Grian.

“Is something the matter, my lady?”

Grian batted his eyelashes, though it wasn’t really directed at Mumbo as much as it was directed at the beautiful emerald necklace he was looking at. “How much money did Scar give us again…?”

Mumbo sounded like he was repressing a laugh. “Let’s move along.”

“But Mumbo-!”

“My lady,” He said quietly, there was an undertone that Grian didn’t like. “Let’s get what we need first.”

And just as Grian was about to whine some more, clasp his hands together and plead with big eyes and a high-pitched voice, he caught a glimpse of Mumbo’s expression- lips closed tightly, and head downturned, eyes glued to the floor. 

“...Okay.” And glancing around if anyone was looking their way, Grian lightly slapped Mumbo on his back which made him jump. “Don’t look like that,” He whispered in his own voice.

Mumbo shook his head. “Let’s get your dresses.”

They headed past the open market. Grian’s eyes occasionally flickered towards Mumbo.

-

Grian was right about the expensive stores being closer to the center. 

The dirt path upgraded to a nice consistent cobble road, although it did look like they were going to upgrade the entire town roads within the following year. It didn’t take long for them to find a slightly bigger, more expensive shop selling high-quality fabrics, and pre-made dresses. Grian seemed satisfied at the sight of it, and Mumbo held the door open for him, shortly turning to the guard following them and reassuring them that they wouldn’t take too long.

Just as Grian walked a bit further in after getting greeted by the clerk, Mumbo stopped him with a slight touch to his arm. He turned his head before walking to a presentation table further from the clerk, and acting interested in the fabrics and dresses shown.

Mumbo said in a quiet voice. "This is our last chance to back out.”

"What?"

Mumbo briefly looked back toward the entrance- to where the guard was patiently waiting for them to finish, but thankfully looking nowhere near them. 

"If you're unsure about this- we can live off of what we have saved already." Then, when Mumbo looked back at him, Grian matched his serious expression. "We don't have to go through with this. We can just sneak out the back."

"I want the rest of the reward money."

"I'm serious, G. This isn’t going to be as easy as our other jobs."

"I am too.” His eyes narrowed, “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

Mumbo’s frown deepened. "No. But if we're going to do this, we need it to go well."

Grian paused.

"I had a shot at the party, didn't I? With Scar?" And, when Mumbo continued to stay quiet, looking unnaturally interested in the fabric in front of him, he quietly added, "When it was just the three of us outside. We could've just… hidden the body, and gone on our way. We could've been home by now."

"There's no use dwelling on it now, is there?"

"Well, when you say it like that…" He muttered. His tone was bitter, and his shoulders slumped a little as he spoke- but he hoped that it wasn't too obvious that he was sulking.

Because-

He had hesitated, when he saw Scar again. 

He hesitated- when it was just the three of them, and when he could've hidden the body long before anyone would notice. When they weren't going to marry each other, and when they could have easily been escorted home, if they asked to be. (And by the time they did notice that Scar was dead, they would've been so far down the mountain that there would be no use in trying to chase after them.)

But he hesitated.

In running his hands through the fabric of a dress that caught his eye, Grian's grip tightened, and he even found himself pulling on it.

Grian didn't make money by hesitating. If he hesitated with any other target, he didn't get paid, and he spent another night without enough money to eat, or without a roof over their heads. 

But then- most of his targets were a little different, weren't they?

Grian killed cheating husbands, and terrible parents. He killed rich employers that worked their employees into the grave, ex-husbands or ex-wives that wouldn't leave their spouses alone, people that ruined someone else's life- and general scum of the Earth. Grian particularly found enjoyment in killing those that exploited others- because even though he wasn't much for debating the morality of it, and more of a fan of putting food on his table, it almost felt like killing two birds with one stone. Or, it felt like doing something good- something that wouldn't keep him up at night- and being rewarded for it.

Because, usually, it took a lot just for someone to want to kill someone else. For the normal man, his usual customers, it stemmed from so much animosity that they didn't know what to do with it. Sometimes, they'd even come in with their chin held high, and set on killing whoever they wanted to kill- just to turn around moments later with a changed mind.

But with the one that tasked them to kill Scar- they didn't give a reason for their animosity. They weren't given a reason for why they wanted Scar dead so badly, or why they were being given so much money to do so. They came to them, flashed a ludicrous amount of money in their faces, and they were quick to jump on the job without needing any more details about it. And now, they were struggling- and Grian was hesitating. That had to be the reason why. There was something wrong, about all of this- or, maybe, there was some underlying morality that he usually pushed to the side that was rearing its ugly head now, and making him doubt himself.

Because why else would he hesitate?

Maybe, he reasoned, it was just because he was a naturally curious person. Maybe, it was because he wanted to know why Scar could be hated so much- but also seemed to be so calm, and nice upon a first meeting. Who has he wronged, living in isolation, and what did he do?

Maybe there was a perfectly understandable reason- and Grian just needed to look at it from another angle. Find the root of it all, and dig it up before it could get in the way. 

"The opportunity will come." Mumbo said, with a note of finality. "We just have to be patient."

"And spend the elf's money in the meantime?"

Mumbo's mouth twitched- and Grian swore that he almost saw a smile on his face.

In the end, they left the shop with a few nightgowns, a dress with a shorter skirt that Grian became slightly fond of, and a white dress shirt with a pair of black pants to match it. And while they promised to claim that the last outfit was for Mumbo, it's clear to anyone paying attention that the two articles of clothing were far too short and small for someone of Mumbo’s height. (Someone looking too deeply into it, or knowing their intentions could easily guess that it was for Grian, and their eventual escape.)

But, thankfully, neither the guard nor the shop owner seemed to notice, or care. They purchased it easily, and even though the two of them planned on stuffing it somewhere it couldn't be found easily- they knew that it probably wasn't worth so much security. As long as the other servants weren't going through their room, they wouldn't have much to worry about. But then, would they have to prove that there was no way that the servants were going through their room, or would Grian just have to trust their word? Maybe he could test it when they got home- subtly leaving his own sort of glyphs on the doors, and checking in on them just to be sure.

He was worried, for a moment, about if the other servants- or if Scar- would notice any glyphs that he might set up- but the barrier surrounding the property was… interesting. He still wasn't so sure about what it was there for, or what it was used to do- but he knew that it was powerful, and constantly active. He knew that a tiny, little glyph hidden in that giant monster of a home wouldn't be detected so easily. Not unless they were looking for it. (But then- even though Grian had been practicing, and though he was all too confident, even in the face of a family- he was too cautious to go through with it, and he could only play dumb to a certain point.

Humans couldn't use magic, after all. And neither could Ariana.)

They made a few other stops while they were there- packing their newly bought items into the carriage, and making the excuse of wanting to visit a town they've never been to before- before seeing what else was for sale. And while Mumbo wasn't particularly looking, and didn't end up finding anything- everything shiny seemed to catch Grian's eyes. Walking through the streets- past market stalls that were out in the open, showing off their wares to anyone passing by, and past shops with their valuables set in front of a window- Grian stopped every once in a while to stare, and contemplate spending any money.

'Anything you want is on me'- translated in Grian's mind was, apparently- 'See how much money you can spend before you start to look like a horrible person.'

After that little shopping spree, all Grian got out of it were a few bits of jewelry- but, in comparison to everything else, they were the most expensive things they got on the trip.

"Is this too much?" Grian had asked at one point, dangling a golden necklace in front of Mumbo's face- although he didn't really care much about Mumbo's answer. Or, at least, he didn't care if the answer was going to be a negative one.

Mumbo replied, "No, I don't think so." And Grian snickered.

(Along the way, even though they had no known limit on money, Mumbo caught Grian pocketing a few things- sliding them into the sleeves of his dress, or even trying to slip them into Mumbo's pockets when he thought he wasn't paying attention. Mumbo would look at him, eyebrows raised, but he wouldn't say anything. In turn, Grian also kept quiet, and they'd leave the store in a mutual silence- with both their pockets a little heavier than they should've been.

Because Grian didn't have an answer for it. Old habits die hard- and, really, he was fascinated with just about anything that glittered.)

-

Before they left town, and after getting a bite to eat, Mumbo kept true to his word. 

Just before they went back to the carriage, Grian was steered into one of the many stores lining the streets of the village. There was one bookstore- one of those hole-in-the-wall sorts of buildings that were easy to miss if it wasn't something you were actively looking for. And, because they were looking for it, and Mumbo could read signs much faster than he could, it was spotted fairly quickly.

Now- Grian wasn't much of a reader. He could read, however bad it was, but he never considered it to be something that was important. 

Young, and living on the streets- it wasn’t easy to teach himself to read, and he was quick to give up on the idea of it. Instead, he stuck to his plan of finding a way to get rich, and loudly claimed that he could get other people to read for him, once he was at that stage. But of course, with someone like Mumbo as a friend, he was quickly influenced to believe otherwise. He told him that a lot of the rich people he served were well-educated, and that if he wanted a chance at getting anywhere near their level, then he also had to make an effort to look the part. Sometimes, Grian missed the nights where the two of them would be stuck together- huddled close, with a cheap and short crime fiction novel in their laps- going through every single word until Grian could recognize some words on a page, and until he could he could read some sentences with only a slight, slow stutter. 

Sometimes, the thought of trying to go through and read those novels again gave him a headache. The thought of reading through them on his own made the headache even worse.

The problem was- Mumbo knew this, as well. 

And yet, here they were.

So, nervously, he turned to Mumbo- and hoped that the glare he was sending his way would make him feel uneasy. (But, of course, Mumbo was outwardly as calm as ever- or, maybe, he was just used to Grian's looks, by now. He seemed completely unaffected by it.)

"I- don't know what I'm looking for."

It was said quietly, to avoid having anyone else listen in on them- though, from what he could see, it was just the two of them with the shop owner. When Mumbo responded- his voice was normal, and not trying to be quiet in the slightest.

"Something easy." Lazily, he gestured towards the shelf they were standing in front of. "These are all mostly fairy tales. They're short, easy to read- and fairly entertaining."

"Is this necessary?"

"Yes." He said immediately.

"Scar has a whole library full of books." He protested. And yet, he still reached out, and held up one of the thicker-looking novels. He knew that, surely, he wouldn't be able to get through the whole thing- but he at least hoped that it'd be entertaining enough to keep him busy on the ride back to Scar's home. In reading the title printed on the side (which took a lot longer than he'd like to admit) he saw that it said GODS AND MYTHOLOGY.

"I don't know how many of them are in Common- or how easy they are to read." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, “And- I just want a quiet ride up the mountain.”

"Hm." It wasn't something he was interested in, normally, but maybe it was worth a shot. “Are you saying that you don’t enjoy my company?”

“I’m saying that the spot you kicked me in is going to bruise.”

“You started it-”

“The book will satisfy your boredom.” He said, quickly, “Do you want to try it, or do you want to spend an hour trying to find another way to entertain yourself on the way back?”

“I was plenty entertained on the way here.” He bluffed- and, based on the look Mumbo gave him, he guessed that he knew it.

In the end, they got the book.

Despite himself, and despite the pains of going through it, the book wasn't all that bad.

Throughout the carriage ride back up the mountain, he might’ve looked a little silly- hunching over the same book he took with reluctance, and silently swore that he wouldn’t get sucked into- but it was a lot more entertaining than he expected it to be. Once he got into a steady rhythm, and once the strained crease on his face fully smoothed out, he found that he even enjoyed it.

He didn’t know how much time passed- not until the carriage stopped for a second, before passing through the magical barrier, shocking him into the present. (And when he looked up again, he pretended like he couldn’t see the smug look Mumbo shot his way, in seeing that he got sucked into reading. Instead, he slowly closed it, and stood up straight again.)

And that night- after Grian was dressed into one of his new nightgowns, and as Mumbo himself was getting ready for bed- Grian was still awake. There was a lit lantern on his bedside, and he was using the low light to keep reading through that book.

He almost didn’t register Mumbo climbing into the bed beside him, barely disturbing the sheets pooling around Grian’s waist. He did, however, feel the hand that gently prodded at his knee a few seconds after Mumbo finally settled down.

"Come on-” Mumbo said quietly, “We have to be up early tomorrow."

Grian’s head felt strange. He felt exhausted.

"I'm almost done with the page.”

Mumbo huffed. "And here I thought that you wouldn't be interested in reading it."

"Can we keep this book after we leave?"

"If you can find a way to carry it around without slowing us down, you can do whatever you want with it." Then, Mumbo sighed a little, and when he spoke again, it was a mumble, "Turn off the light now, please."

And even though he was only halfway through, Grian decided to call it a night. He carefully made a small fold in the corner of the page, and set it on the nightstand next to him.

Then he turned off the light. He wrapped his arm around Mumbo's torso again- laying his head on his shoulder, and just generally shifting around to get more comfortable. Because Mumbo was lying on his back, and had his arm stretched out, he easily put his hand on Grian's shoulder, and kept it there.

It was warmer than it had been the other night, because of the nightgown. Grian was just happy that the usual chill of the room had gone away, and it was easier to get comfortable.

"You should read it too."

"Mhm?"

"To me." Grian clarified, "Read it to me."

"Ask me again later." He murmured, before he finally went to sleep.

-

Their first few weeks there passed in a hectic daze.

Mumbo and Grian ate every meal together. After explaining to Scar that Grian was still a little nervous about eating in front of other people, and after Grian insisted that he would like to enjoy spending his meals with his personal guard- there were two meals being delivered to their room three times a day. They, at first, used their free time to plan- but after they realized that their main problem was just finding a way out, and after the tension between them started to rise more and more throughout their stay- they decided to take a step back. They figured that they wouldn’t get the time to look around very early on. 

And because the whole thing was making them anxious, they made the decision to… relax. 

Or, at least, try to.

After all, they were never given a time limit. And they were going to kill Scar! But they planned ahead, and the mission was stressful. And since they were sent to a mansion in the middle of nowhere, and there weren’t any immediate threats despite their own (Grian’s) hubris, they could afford to take a moment to take a step back, and enjoy it while they still could- even if, eventually, their plan was to leave to a similar life that just… wasn't stressful.

So they did.

Another major problem they had while staying there was that everyone was really… secretive.

After a week or two of staying there, they got sick of having to be led around and watched by Scar's servants if they were out of their room. It was not only annoying, but entirely detrimental if all of the servants kept a close eye on them when they would eventually kill Scar. It took a lot of pestering (mostly on Grian's part, since Mumbo was just a little more willing to let it slide) for them to get an official tour of the property- and, even then, it wasn't much of a tour.

Scar wasn't anywhere to be seen on most of the days leading up to the wedding, and he certainly wasn't there when they were being led around the property. His servants were the ones guiding them- briefly showing them expansive, luxurious gardens that Scar apparently liked to upkeep by himself, despite the number of servants that could do it for him. 

At some point, they guided them around the path, and told them about some parts that were sectioned off, unless they had Scar's absolute permission to enter. (Which would be, according to them, really hard to get, and trying to ask for it wasn't even worth it.) That included some parts of the garden which were already hard to get into, and even some parts of the property that were too far for them to see... And when Grian asked if there were any exceptions for whether or not his wife was allowed to enter without his express permission, he was given an annoyed look, and the tour quickly moved on.

"Maybe we can… sneak into one of these." Grian was muttering as he lagged behind, only really talking as the servant was, so they couldn't be overhead, "Maybe it has what we're looking for… Or, maybe, that can be how we catch him off guard…"

During the whole tour, Grian kept a close eye on everything-

But, as far as they were concerned, there was no real way out besides the front exit. The large, stone walls covered the perimeter- far too tall for them to climb or get through- and just the sight of it was a little intimidating.

And Mumbo realized, though the servant insisted that the tour was over and ushered them back towards their rooms, there was a section that they had skipped over in the tour completely. No mention of it being there, or being sectioned off, as if it was never there to begin with. In the distance- just past the main home, and past the garden- were groves of trees, and the sight of barely concealed fencing. He couldn't see the end of the property, and couldn't see the wall that was supposedly covering that side. It almost looked like a complete forest.

Mumbo looked over just in time to see Grian noticing it as well. Then, after they shared the same look- the same light in their eyes, upon noticing the opportunity right in front of them- Grian slowed in his steps.

And when Grian asked about it, the servant's face twisted a little, and she lightly explained that it was where the farms were. Then, the servant insisted that it wasn't a place that someone like Ariana wanted to be- it was dirty, and below them, and it always smelled- and, all while listing the reasons, the servant was moving a lot. As she walked further away from the area, she was shaking her head, and waving her arms around as she spoke- and when listening to her, though the words themselves went right into one of Mumbo’s ears and right out the other- she sounded… nervous, almost.

It was somewhere they weren't supposed to be. But, at the same time, it was somewhere that they weren't strictly banned from. It was a place that they were supposed to gloss over, Mumbo reasoned.

The two of them were led back to their room with the promise of dinner in an hour. As soon as the door closed, Grian turned around- and Mumbo could tell that he was thinking.

"Is it strange here, or is it just me?" He finally asked, pulling the veil off, and going through the motions of making himself comfortable. "They don’t seem to like me very much."

Mumbo collapsed on the couch, legs hanging off the edge. He looked at the high ceiling. “To be fair- and no offense- but I can sympathize with them.”

“What do you mean?!” Grian sounded scandalized, jumping onto the couch next to Mumbo, and coming straight into his view.

“They randomly get another workload, and not only is it some self-important princess- but it’s the also the homeowner’s future bride… all just very annoying new routines to adjust to.”

“But- but I’m nice, right?” Grian leaned down, now covering Mumbo’s entire view. Blond strands were falling out of his hairdo, and they tickled Mumbo’s nose. 

He sighed, closing his eyes. “You are being tolerable.”

“Tolerable…” There was dramatic grief in his voice. “So that’s how you feel about me.”

Still blind, Mumbo reached up and pushed Grian’s face away- he protested, but it was muffled behind Mumbo’s hand, and when he opened his eyes, Grian was sitting upright, glaring at Mumbo through the spaces of his fingers.

“The princess plays favorites, and one of them happens to be me.” Mumbo removed his hand and folded them in his lap. “Of course I do more than just tolerate her.”

Grian’s face quickly lightened up. Then he pointed at himself. “But what about Grian?”

Mumbo blinked. “Who’s that? Some lowly thief?” He put a hand above his eyes like he was trying to peer into the distance, sitting up on his knees and twisting to look around the room. “Has he been bothering you, my lady?”

“Don’t you know?” He said, swooning suddenly with a pitched voice. “He’s some famous, handsome, good-looking assassin .”

Mumbo gasped. “And he’s after you?”

Grian nodded solemnly. Then he wrapped his arms around Mumbo’s neck, pushing their cheeks together. “I’m so scared, you’ll have to protect me.”

“Everything for the lady,” Mumbo concluded a bit deadpan.

Then after some fake wailing that turned into wild laughter, Grian flopped back, legs restlessly moving up and down on Mumbo’s lap, and an arm over his forehead. “I stand by it, though,” He said in his normal voice. “Something’s off.”

“Something is off.” He put a hand on Grian’s constantly moving leg, and it seemed to slow down. After his thumb brushed over it, the leg stopped moving completely. "I'll see what's going on tonight."

“Hm?”

“I’ll go out, sneak around.”

Grian seemed slightly more relaxed at that. “And look for a way out.”

Mumbo felt a heavy stone sitting in his chest. Still, he nodded. “And look for a way out.”

-

There was a knock at the door.

Usually, food would be left outside their room for Mumbo to bring in. As such, when Mumbo walked towards the door, Grian merely sunk into the couch by the fireplace, and waited for Mumbo to report that it was time to eat.

When the door opened, Mumbo was surprised to find Scar there instead- holding up one of the trays, and smiling as they made eye contact. Behind him were a couple of servants- one that was holding another tray of food, keeping her eyes on the ground, and another that was holding a small, flat box in her hands. Mumbo’s eyes locked onto the box immediately- but then Scar cleared his throat, and grabbed his attention again.

Unlike most of the days in the manor, Scar’s hair was pinned up, and he was dressed similarly to how he had been when they first met- a simple white collared shirt and a pair of pants.

"Can I come in?"

Mumbo looked back into the room. Grian was now sitting up on the couch, and seemingly trying to get a good look at what was on the other side of the door- even if he wasn't ready to be seen. Then, after a silent gesture with his head, Grian was getting up and moving to the other side of the room.

"Are you eating with us...?" Mumbo asked cautiously, opening the door a little wider.

"Oh! No, I just figured that I should stop by." Scar set one of the trays down on the desk. But instead of the servants coming in to do the same, they stayed by the door, and waited. Scar set the other tray down on the desk, took the flat box from the other servant, and dismissed them both. He shut the door, and waited a second before he continued, "I've been awfully busy, recently."

Mumbo held out his hands to accept the box, though Scar held it taut in his arms. Mumbo got the message and dropped his arms, folding them behind his back instead. "It's no problem. It gave us some time to settle in.”

Grian turned around, veil sitting on the bridge of his nose, and keeping that extra bit of security just in case his smile was a bit too wide. His gloves were a bit twisted on his hands, but he was picking at them quietly, and trying to get them right. “It’s very nice to see you, Scar.”

Softly, Scar returned the sentiment in his expression. He held out the white box wrapped with a golden ribbon out to Grian. “I have a gift.”

Grian looked at Mumbo- then, hesitantly, he took the box and pulled the ribbon off. It fell to the floor, and Grian quickly knelt down to pick it up, looking at it for a moment before handing it off to Scar- who took it without thinking, and then stood there cluelessly, not knowing what to do with it either, before he shoved it into one of his pockets.

The lid of the box slid off after a bit of pulling and shaking, and both Grian and Mumbo peeked inside with curiosity.

Mumbo repressed the urge to hold a hand in front of his mouth. He didn’t quite know what it was, but it was made of solid gold, and embedded within it was an insanely large emerald. Even if he barely cared about jewels and jewelry- he had a fanatic right next to him and it was hard not to get affected as well.

"What is it?" Grian asked- though Mumbo could tell that he was enamored with it at first sight. It looked expensive, and that was all that mattered to him.

"It's an Elven headpiece." Scar explained, "Usually, brides are supposed to wear these on their wedding day- and you don’t have to wear it, but I wanted to give you the option-”

"Of course! I'll wear it." Grian said quickly. His hand hovered over it, fingers twitching, as if he was tempted to steal it from him- as if it wasn't already promised to be his. "It's beautiful."

Later that night- when Mumbo was trying to figure out how to style his hair with the headpiece in mind, and trying to figure out how his hair should look on his wedding day- Grian loudly proclaimed that he was keeping the headpiece after everything was said and done. Or, at the very least, if he couldn't take it with him, then he was going to use their newfound wealth to buy another dozen headpieces that were exactly like it.

And when his hair was styled- and the headpiece was slowly clipped on, careful to avoid pinching any feathers hidden in his hair, while also staying in place- Grian couldn’t stop looking at it in the mirror. He shook his head a little, slowly, just to test if it’d stay- and when it did, he grinned widely.

“Do you think I’ll be able to wear more jewelry?” He asked, fingers lightly ghosting over the jeweled headpiece, “I don’t have any of my own, but if I asked-”

“I’m afraid you’ll just come off as a golddigger.”

“Better to be a golddigger than an assassin.” He said, far too casually, “How about earrings?”

“Didn't Ariana have both of them pierced?" He asked quietly, tugging on the empty earlobe until Grian smacked his hand away, "Are you willing to take that risk?” At the realization, Grian frowned.

Grian himself had only one of his ears pierced. When they first met, it was occupied with a golden earring- one made of real gold, his finest possession, and one he bragged about constantly- but once they started in this business, he hadn’t worn it. Not only was it a good way to get spotted and recognized, but it also stood out- and usually, that was the last thing they’d need. If everything went to plan, and they managed to pin Ariana for a crime she didn’t commit, they’d have to be a little thorough, at the very least. 

Whether or not she had both of her ears pierced wouldn’t matter, so long as Grian never brought any attention to it.

“We’ll find you some other jewelry to wear.” Mumbo promised, “Necklaces, bracelets- maybe I’ll style your hair differently, so you’ll have strands covering your ears-” And, as he said it, he made it so- carefully bringing out two strands of hair to fall on either side of his face, instead of keeping it pinned up and out of the way. "You won't even realize that something is supposed to be there."

It was a little messy, but if he fixed it up, or if he intentionally styled it like that before putting the headpiece on, it would’ve looked perfect. 

“Yeah- maybe after all of this, I can look into getting more earrings for myself.”

“I don’t know why you’d want to look into getting other earrings, when there’s only one you’d wear.”

And, just as quickly, the smile was back. He looked at Mumbo's face in the mirror, and Mumbo just caught his gaze. “Sometimes, it’s not a matter of wearing it- just having it is enough. And, when you’re filthy rich, you can afford privileges like that. I want that privilege.”

“You just want something shiny.”

“Guilty.”

Mumbo stared at the mirror for a few seconds longer than he meant to, hands still clasped over Grian’s shoulders. It took a minute for Grian to meet his eyes again, but when he did, he muttered.

“Are you fine with getting married?”

Grian's face tensed slightly, “Well- it’s not me getting married, is it? It's Ariana."

“But-” Maybe it was Mumbo- the idea of marrying someone for the sake of a job felt wrong. Or, he’d be fine with it, probably. But pushing that onto Grian didn’t feel right. The idea of stuffing Grian in a wedding dress, making him talk to people he didn’t know, exchange rings with a person he barely knew- his hands tightened on Grian’s shoulders. 

“Mumbo?”

He cleared his throat, and apologetically brushed his hands over his shoulders. “If we get an opportunity, let’s kill him before the wedding.”

“The quicker, the better, sure…” He drifted off. “You’re being weird about it, though.”

“It just feels like you’re selling part of your soul, doesn’t it?”

“Not more than usual.” He shrugged. “And hey, it’s not like I’m looking to get married later in life anyway.” He smiled at Mumbo through the mirror. “I can sell off that marriage soul, and I won’t miss it.”

Grian didn’t want to get married? Mumbo averted his eyes- he didn’t know that. “There’s no such thing as a marriage soul.”

“Who cares? You’re being weird about it!” He snorted, and carded his fingers through the loose hair strands. It got Mumbo back on track, and back to fixing up his looks. "It's our last job. After this, it won't matter."

-

It wasn't all that hard to untangle himself from Grian once he was fast asleep. 

After spending so much time sleeping in the same bed together, Mumbo had gotten used to it. Grian's head was on his shoulder, and his talons were digging into the sleeves of his shirt. It wasn't painful by any means- but Mumbo knew that it could change with just one small flex of his hands, unconscious and unaware of what he was doing. So right off the bat, after closing the book he'd been reading out loud, Mumbo set out to carefully untangle every claw digging into his shirt- and, though Grian was clingy, he managed to do it seamlessly, and quickly.

Then, after making sure there was a throw pillow on his side, Mumbo carefully laid Grian down on the couch. He seemed fine without using Mumbo as a personal heater- and he bet that he could leave him like that, and make it back out in time before Grian even noticed that he was gone.

Still, he carefully made sure that everything was in order. He covered Grian in the heaviest blanket that was on the bed, and tucked it in around his shoulders and under his legs to make sure that he couldn't accidentally kick it off while he was gone. In tucking it in, he realized that there had been a few stray clips left in his hair around his ears, and he made sure to carefully pull them out as well. (In turn, his feathers puffed out a little- but all Grian did was breathe in a little deeper, and otherwise remained still.) After Grian was situated, he stoked the fire, and made sure that it would stay lit for another few hours-

But it all felt like stalling.

The prospect of escaping made him nervous, and he felt that if he didn't look for any way to escape, his anxiety would burst at the seams. At the same time, after the tour, he felt uncomfortable at the prospect of looking for a way out, knowing that there were places that they were strictly banned from. Because, even though it was the middle of the night, he didn't know how many servants would be up and running around, and he certainly didn't know what would happen if he got caught snooping around where he wasn't supposed to be. (Worst case scenario, he thought, it completely ruined any sort of edge they had of winning. The servants seemed wary of them at best, and would not make them look good when reporting back to Scar.)

But it was still something that needed to be done- and soon.

So, lighting up the lantern that he kept at his bedside and putting on something to keep him warm, he snuck out of Grian's room.

The hallway was, thankfully, empty. And as he walked further, he was pleased to note that most of the area was empty, despite his previous assumptions. (Maybe, those same servants that usually bumped into them on their way out were now counting on them being asleep, and didn't worry about whether or not they were still in their rooms. Or maybe they were just busy- or going to sleep themselves. Whatever it was, Mumbo counted himself lucky.)

When he noticed the floor creaking as he walked, Mumbo changed up the path. At one point, he even took off his shoes, and padded across the rest of the floor in his socks, just to avoid making as much noise as possible.

The door opened without a creak, and he easily stepped outside- and once the door quietly clicked shut behind him, he started walking away from the path.

First, he strayed a little ways away from the small grove of trees he intended on combing through, and headed towards the fence they were guided away from on their tour. As he got closer, and even rested his hands on the wooden fence he saw earlier, he noticed multiple things at once. 

First off- the fence was enchanted. He recognized the feeling of an enchanted item on the tips of his fingers. And, even if he hadn't trained himself to recognize enchantments, there was still a prominent buzzing that coursed through his body after he touched it. He ripped his hands away. Then, he figured that it was to keep any of the animals living in the pens from trying to get over the fence. The next thing he noticed was, of course, the animal habitats- even if the animals themselves were hidden away from sight.

Beyond the pens of animals (that, only during the night, looked startlingly empty), there were farms. He could see a field of wheat, and the sight of other crops in the distance- all growing on a flat, open clearing. What really caught his eye was the sight of people in the distance, and going through those farms- the light distance of chatter and laughter just barely reaching his ears. And the minute he realized that he could easily be spotted if he stayed where he was, Mumbo backed away from the fence, and lowered his lantern.

From where he was standing, he could see the wall continuing, and wrapping around the farms- but what was really intriguing him was the grove of trees that the wall disappeared into. He couldn't see through them, and he just had to wonder what was beyond it. As far as he and Grian knew, the entire property was surrounded by a wall, but he couldn’t see anything beyond the tree line- so it was worth checking out.

Maybe it was a more natural barrier, like a cliff or a steep decline, something they could work with, and something that would make Mumbo feel better about this entire thing, knowing that Grian could finally do his job without needing to think of the consequences that came afterward.

He stepped into the small forest. It was worth a try, at the very least.

-

Mumbo didn't know if it was from his general anxiety, or if it was from the unfamiliar environment- but the further Mumbo walked down the beaten path, the more he felt like it was a bad idea. He pressed through it, but every step he made was slow, and his guard was up the whole time, as if he was just biding his time and waiting for something to jump out at him.

The walk, for the most part, was completely silent.

At one point he turned around, and lifted the lantern up to see the path he’d been walking on- and he could just barely see the end of it. Maybe, he thought, it wasn't such a good idea to walk a deep path into a part of Scar’s home that they never got a tour of- or, maybe, it wasn't such a good idea to do it alone, and without his companion that was adept with dealing with situations like these. But, at the same time, he had to assure himself that it would be fine. It was walled-off and likely didn’t have any wild animals lurking in it. At worst, he’d get attacked by some smaller animals that were probably in there. 

So he continued. He kept his head up, and stood up a little straighter.

And, as he walked deeper, everything started to feel a little surreal. He didn’t know how long the trees continued on for, but he couldn’t see the end of the trail- and it almost felt like he wasn’t on Scar’s property anymore. It felt like he was in the middle of nowhere instead- somehow transported to another area entirely, and doomed to be lost in it for the rest of his life. (Of course, he was just being dramatic- but every time he looked back, and every time he realized that the end of the path was getting harder to spot, Mumbo was starting to regret taking his chances.)

At some point- after passing many more trees, and going further into the forest- Mumbo heard the sound of a river. And though it was distant at first, he found himself latching onto something new, and found himself picking up the pace a little to investigate it.

Mumbo slowed down at the sight of a bridge. As he walked further, he noticed that it’d been built over the river- and the river itself was a lot wider, and slower than he expected it to be, despite how loud it was. And though he couldn’t see it very well, he guessed that the river was a lot deeper than it was at first glance. It was swimmable, sure, but it wasn’t the type of river that he’d take his chances in if he didn’t have to.

Even though there was some overgrowth, the bridge didn't look abandoned. It was fairly sturdy, and didn’t creak as he walked over it- which he was very thankful for. 

If it did crack, and fall beneath his own weight- and if the river didn’t drown him upon impact, or from the current- then it would’ve been a nightmare, dealing with the chill that would’ve come from it. The cold, sad walk back to Grian’s room- the wet socks, and the multiple layers that were doing nothing to keep him warm…

But the bridge stayed intact, and Mumbo continued. Off the beaten path, he caught the sight of what looked to be a round, wooden gazebo- and, from where he was standing, he swore he caught the sight of a table and a few chairs in it- but he didn’t get much closer to investigate. It was easy to assume that Scar had many places to get lost in. That, on top of having a large, expansive garden to go through- it suddenly wasn’t that hard to see why Scar could disappear so easily.

And… even though Scar would be hard to find if he went in there, it’d also be difficult for his servants and staff to find him, making it the perfect spot to kill him in, if they wanted the extra time to leave. It was probably a million times easier to traverse it during the day, and if they actually found a way out there… it would be like the cherry on top. They’d leave, and find themselves so far down the mountain that it’d be impossible to catch up to them. And, because Grian would be on his side, it’d be much easier to traverse through the wilderness, and much less anxiety-inducing.

The further he went, after the bridge, the more things popped up. There was something he noticed, just barely off the path- a wooden structure that was far too cluttered to be a normal patch of trees, with spikey tops.

But, just as he was getting closer to it, he heard the sound of something creaking- more specifically, it sounded like a door that handn’t been oiled before- loudly breaking the silence Mumbo had just started becoming accustomed to. He quickly hid behind a tree, hiding the lantern under his coat to stop most of the light from escaping and giving off his location.

He wanted to look around the tree and see what caused the noise in the first place- but closer than he expected, and quicker than he thought, a pair of eyes met his, and Mumbo realized to avoid suspicion, it would’ve been better to come out of hiding. 

His heart was beating in his chest, and he was overcome with a wave of nausea. He’d have to just deal with it.

But then he raised his lantern, and that led to another, completely surprising discovery. 

“Scar?”

“Mumbo!” He looked- erratic? Frantic? His hair, previously pinned up and neat, was now loose- and it looked damp. His clothes were messed up, and covered in spots of dirt- and, as Mumbo looked closer, he noticed that there was a spot of dirt on his cheekbone, though his face otherwise looked clean. The sight caused Mumbo to take a step back. 

He’s only just met Scar- but even as he was casual in appearance, he usually seemed very put-together. But now, he looked a little more like he was just caught rolling around in the dirt.

“Why are you..?” He lifted the lantern up- and it was just then that he realized that Scar’s pupils had shrunken into thin lines. “Here?”

Scar blinked. Then, he laughed a little, and brushed off his hands on his shirt- not gloved, for the first time in a while. Suddenly, his demeanor changed up a little- and although his appearance was still a little messy, he seemed to look a lot more composed.

“I, uh… had something I had to take care of." He squinted, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted fresh air.” He said, easily, “I like going on walks.” 

“And Ariana?”

“She’s asleep.”

Scar hummed. “Did you… mean to walk in here?”

“...I got lost.”

“I thought you were given a tour.” Scar started to walk away from the structure, and began following the path back home. When the elf paused, and waited for him, Mumbo started walking alongside him.

“It wasn’t the best.” He explained. Then, in realizing that he was dealing with someone that was used to being served, and he wasn’t just pretending with Grian, Mumbo stood up a little straighter. He held the lantern up to show Scar’s path, and he slowed down a little to walk just behind him.

"That made for a pleasant surprise," He said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But at least you followed the path."

"I'd be too scared not to."

Scar turned with a charming smile, and though he still seemed paler than he should be, he seemed fine. "I always forget that humans have trouble with forests."

And Mumbo, who was always curious about magic, politely asked, "How is it for elves, then?"

“We’re much more… connected to it. And it’s much harder to get lost.” He thought about it. "If I wanted to- for example, uproot this entire forest and replant it a mile from here- I could do it quickly. Or I could extend it, or make it so much more confusing… And even after that, I could probably still find my way around, if I really paid attention.”

“Huh.”

“But that almost feels sacrilegious, so you won't find anyone doing that." He stopped at a tree and planted his hand on the bark, looking back at Mumbo. "Come here. Look."

Mumbo lifted his lamp and watched the spot that Scar was touching- and a moment later, a very tiny twig poked its head out, with an even tinier leaf attached to it. Mumbo smiled at the size, part of him wanting to call it cute, though another part thought it was a bit freaky. 

Seconds later, moss began to grow alongside it, and peeked out from underneath the palm of his hand.

“Oh.”

“That’s the most I can do.” He said, with a laugh that almost tinged on nervous.

"It's impressive."

"Barely." He frowned, “It’s not a scary defense, or something- but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Mumbo supposed so. "So you're connected to the forest?"

"Sure.  It is- it is much older than we are-" Scar sounded breathless. He was putting most of his weight against the tree now, and Mumbo noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead. "But it's…" he trailed off.

"Scar?" The man just closed his eyes with a sigh, both hands gripping tightly onto the tree. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," The response came quickly. "I really tired myself out today. Sorry."

Mumbo shook his head, as if to dismiss the apology, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. Carefully, he dabbed it over Scar's forehead, who opened his eyes with a start, and then dried off his temples. 

He then held it out to him. "You can have it, if you want."

Lifting his hand, Scar stared at it, slightly cross-eyed. "Thanks," He muttered, slowly grabbing it and putting it away. 

As he removed himself from the tree, he supported himself on Mumbo's shoulder for a moment, before he started standing upright again. With a nod they both continued their way back, Mumbo staying closer to Scar's side just in case he got weak again.

It was fine, though. Scar filled the silence with talk about the wedding, mentioning plans, and ideas he had- designs he was thinking about, and designs that wouldn't work, and Mumbo listened to it all with only one ear. If this all worked out, it wouldn’t matter what the color scheme of the wedding was.

(He tried to not think about how easy it was to kill Scar, in that moment. Deep in the forest, or on the path they were walking down, with nobody being there to see him. 

He wasn’t the one doing it- but it’d be convenient to leave him in a place that’d be difficult to find him in, wouldn’t it?)

He looked back for a short moment, the rushing sound of the river drowning into the usual night ambiance as they left it further and further behind. His steps stuttered for a moment. Scar didn't notice.

Even as they stepped inside the mansion, entering through a side entrance that led them through the gardens, Scar kept talking. Though listening to him halfheartedly, he noticed that Scar hadn't said anything that stuck- he kept riding around the topic of flowers, not once reaching anything close to a conclusion. 

He finally ended the rant on a disharmonious note, saying, "I don't think I even care that much."

"I'm sure you'll find a solution. Is this your room?"

Scar quickly smiled. "Of course. Thank you for escorting me back." With a lower tone, he added, "Let's keep this little adventure to ourselves."

Mumbo nodded, and as Scar slipped into his room, he stole a quick peek inside- yet he could only see the headboard of a bed, the color unclear in the darkness- the only light source, a fire, was too far away and leaving the colors muddy. There was a barrage of pillows on it, with a transparent curtain surrounding the length of the bed.

It seemed cozy. The door clicked shut, and for a second Mumbo stood there, lantern raised up, staring at a closed door.

With a sigh, he walked back to the room Grian was in, and hoped that he was still asleep.

Chapter Text

Wedding rehearsals were just as thrilling as Mumbo expected them to be.

They were woken up early, earlier than usual, and told that they would have to be awake just as early for the wedding the very next day. Grian was dressed in a white gown that was a little lower than he was used to a dress being- nothing he could move around in comfortably- and he was told that it was a similar length to the dress he’d be wearing on his wedding day.

And, though Grian was usually fine with wearing dresses, he was also incredibly picky with what he wore. Mumbo didn’t even have to ask- the minute he finished pinning up the ludicrous amount of buttons on the back of the dress, he took one look at Grian’s displeased face in the mirror, and understood everything quite clearly.

Knowing that they were mostly going to be in front of maids, Grian said he didn’t care for how he looked. He wore his veil, and his gloves, and he kept his hair pinned up in a bun- making it look just messy enough to look like he threw it up in a pinch, whilst secretly spending another minute pinning down the feathers around his ears. Looking casual, while putting far too much effort into it.

They didn’t leave the room until he was satisfied with his appearance- which, thankfully, didn’t take very long, but it was still long enough to make them late. And when they reached the ballroom, Scar was already in there waiting for them.

Rehearsals went by easily. They were run through what they had to do, ceremony-wise. And when they practiced their first dance together, Mumbo watched it from a distance. The main couple looked bored- too focused on how they were dancing, and where they were stepping to notice that nobody was having a good time. And maybe it’d be different during the ceremony, and different once they were working in tandem to put on a performance-

But, for now, it was silent. Shoes scuffed against the ballroom floor, gazes pointed downward to watch their feet, and everyone watched them move around with bated breath. As if it was something to be excited over. Mumbo himself kept forcing down the overwhelming urge to yawn because of how early they’d woken up.

They never got the chance to kill him before the wedding.

On the night before their wedding, Mumbo and Grian were laying down on their shared bed, and they were both staring up at the ceiling. For the longest time, though they tried sleeping early, all they did was lay there- wide awake, and waiting for sleep to come in a shared, comfortable silence.

“Do you think we can just poison him on the wedding day?” Grian asked curiously, out of the blue. “We can be creative with it. Pretend like it was one of the other guests that did it.” He turned his head over to look at Mumbo, “I can cry, if you need me to, so they wouldn’t know that it was us.”

“I thought we weren’t worrying about this?”

“Think about it, Mumbo. What if we try and get this whole place to ourselves, instead of looking for a new place somewhere else?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Grian rolled over.

Suddenly, he was on his side- head raised, and resting against the palm of his hand. The other hand was set between them, fingers lightly tapping against the bed. Mumbo’s eyes darted over to his face just in time to see that Grian was upset by- something.

“...”

“What?”

“It’s a very beautiful property, Mumbo.” He insisted, and Mumbo sighed, “It’s isolated, on top of a mountain- it’s pretty nice, no?”

“I don’t want any servants working here.” Especially not the ones working for Scar. They all worked and moved around like they had something to hide- and the longer Mumbo stuck around them, the more he felt anxious around them.

“We’ll fire the servants.”

“And manage everything by ourselves?”

“Why not! There’s only, what-?”

“The farms. The gardens. The kitchens. The property. The house, if we don’t want anything getting dusty-” And there was still so much of it that they haven’t seen.

“We’ll have the rest of our lives to keep everything clean.”

“What if they suspect us? Or- what if someone comes looking for Ariana, and finds you here, instead?”

“We have a giant wall to keep them out. I can… practice with glyphs, and we can figure something out. Together.”

“...” At Mumbo’s lack of a response, Grian laid back down.

“I’m just saying- how long is too long? We don’t have a time limit, but we do have a limit on how long we can keep this act up.”

“We’ve been doing well so far.”

“So far.” Grian repeated, in a low tone, “Just think about it, Mumbo. If we can find a way to kill him without getting caught, we could be inheriting this whole place.”

And, for a moment, Mumbo did think about it. 

Grian shifted over to lay on his side, possibly trying for a new position to sleep in, and Mumbo’s head turned over to stare at the back of his head.

Living here… wasn’t that bad of an idea, if they could somehow pull it off.

"I'm following you." He said quietly. And, at his response, Grian let out a content sigh.

-

On the day of the actual wedding, Grian was the first one to wake up.

And, despite being a light sleeper, Mumbo didn't wake up when Grian left their shared bed. He woke up much later, when Grian was slightly shaking him, and trying to hold a normal conversation with him- as if he was in any state to do so.

Mumbo came into consciousness in the middle of Grian's sentence. And, as his mind cleared a little, he muttered a quiet, “What?”

Grian’s frown got impossibly deeper, upon being interrupted. His hair was wet- tied up behind his head, but still dripping- and when hovered over Mumbo, the drops of water hitting his face helped him wake up a little.

"I need you to help me get ready.”

Then Grian shoved him, and the jarring movement was just enough for Mumbo’s brain to catch up with him. He jumped, suddenly sitting up, and moving to stand next to Grian.

“What time is it-?” He asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“It’s early.” He said, and when Mumbo looked over at the window, he saw that it was still dark outside.

“Dude.” Mumbo’s hands dragged over his face. And, for a moment, he considered going straight back to bed. “Dude…”

“I couldn’t sleep. Well- I did- but then I woke up, and I couldn’t go back to sleep, and now…” He gestured towards himself- dressed in a nightgown, but clearly out of a bath, if the wet hair and floral scents were anything to consider.

“Okay?”

“I want to look good.”

“You’ll look good.”

Grian’s eyebrows twitched. Then with dead, half-lidded eyes, he said, “Then let's get started.”

First- after taking a bath of his own, to wake himself up- Mumbo decided to take care of Grian’s nails. Because, even though they were easily hidden under his gloves, they wanted to be prepared for what would happen once those gloves came off.

(And Grian said that he was fine with it. If they wanted to stay there for a little longer, and if they wanted the mission to go well- then the wedding would have to go well. The nails would have to be filed down, if his hands were to be shown, and if wedding bands were involved at all.

But, the main difficulty with knowing someone for so many years was that he knew Grian like the back of his hand, sometimes, and he knew that Grian wasn’t happy over having them filed down.)

"They'll grow back." Mumbo assured quietly, when Grian hadn't said anything for a while. "Startlingly fast."

"I know." Then, finally, his fingers flexed a little- knuckles cracking as he tensed up his hands. "I'm not worried about that. I’m just… worried about the obvious.”

He did look better, though. Mumbo had the fireplace lit, and with the whole room filled with warm air, it was hard to tell if he was feeling calmer, or if he was just feeling tired. Either way, with how close the morning was, and with how far they were getting, they likely wouldn't get the chance to fall asleep again.

Mumbo frowned a little, “I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing day for us.”

“It could be. Once the whole ceremony is over with.” Grian’s lips quirked up into a smile, and Mumbo just barely caught the sight of it out of the corner of his vision, “You know, it’d make me really happy if we could share a dance, together-”

“We’ll see what happens.” He said- which, of course, Grian took as him saying no, and immediately made his displeasure about it known.

Which… wasn’t all that far off from the truth, since he had no plans of doing so- but Mumbo knew that he could be easily persuaded if Grian was stressed enough, and asked him to- but, at the same time, eyes were going to be on them, and he knew that at least one person was going to see him dancing- and, since the thought of dancing in front of so many people was slightly horrifying, to him… he knew that there was a low chance of him going through with it.

The motions of helping Grian get ready, after that, were easy.

His hair dried much faster being by the fire, shoulder-length and only slightly tangled. Mumbo brushed it out for him before he went through it with a comb. Then, carefully, he pinned the hair in a way similar to how Grian had liked it the other day- all while keeping the headpiece in mind.

As the sun slowly began to rise, there was that tell-tale knock on their door that usually woke them up in the mornings, and they paused their routine to eat.

During the meal, Grian sat up a little straighter than he usually would, and he crossed his legs over by the ankles.

“How’s this?” Then, he made a show of eating through smaller bites. Without his veil on, it was easy to worry about whether or not his teeth would show- but Grian was good at hiding them. He was quick. And, as long as nobody paid too much attention to his teeth for the few seconds his mouth would be open, he’d be fine.

Mumbo nodded. Grian held up his teacup- pinky raised- and Mumbo copied the gesture, and clinked their glasses together.

-

The next hurdle came when they were getting the outfit on.

Grian’s veil was light pink.

The rest of his outfit- the floor-length gown he let Scar and his family pick out, along with his jewelry, and his other accessories- were all mostly green and gold. And while it looked incredible on him…

“It doesn’t match well.”

Grian was obsessively picking at his own appearance. Steadying the headpiece, straightening out the gown- sometimes even being distracted by the gown, obviously enamored with the jewels sewn into it, and the golden accents- and overall just trying to look perfect for his wedding day. 

Mumbo thought he looked just fine. More than fine, if anything- once Grian was seen by Scar, and the rest of the esteemed guests, he was going to knock their socks clean off. Because, though they never really got the chance to do so, Grian wore fine things well.

(The first time he’d seen Grian in something fancy- something other than his favorite earring, anyway- he was 15, and the family he’d been serving decided to take a vacation.

And because he’s lived there all his life, and clearly had nowhere else to go, he was one of the most trusted servants amongst the others. He was one of the only ones that were permitted to go upstairs, and enter any of the rooms when the family wasn’t home- for cleaning purposes only, he’d been told. To make sure that everything would remain pristine, even as they were away.

But of course, there was no real way for them to check, and most of the other servants working there were under a similar agreement to let anything small slide. 

It made Mumbo just a little more willing to bring Grian to the mansion. 

He was hesitant, at first, to bring him anywhere near the property- but with the family gone, and with the avian being persistent and curious, he ended up agreeing to it. They spent hours washing dirt off his face and hands, and Mumbo spent a good second trying to find something for him to wear… But despite all of his efforts to make Grian blend in, he was overly excited about being in a new place for the first time. So much so that he didn’t even really listen to what Mumbo told him to do. He didn’t keep his head down around the other servants, he openly gawked at the interior at every opportunity he got-

And, the minute he realized where the bedrooms were, Grian sprinted past him and ran as fast as he could up the stairs- using his hands and feet to help get there faster, leaving Mumbo to scramble behind him. For someone so short and scrawny, he was surprisingly fast, and he darted into a room long before Mumbo could catch up with him.

“Don’t-”  

Touch anything, he was going to say, but as he walked into the room, he saw that Grian was already way past that, hands smoothing over the bright covers neatly tucked into the bed. He was thankful that Grian only ran into the daughter’s room, instead of any of the ones that belonged to her parents. It was a much easier, and more familiar room to move around in.

“Are you feeling this?” Grian gushed, seemingly transfixed over it. He pushed down on the bed, just to feel it sink under his hands, “Since when were these so comfortable?”

“They’re just… expensive.”

Grian hopped up onto the bed. And, before Mumbo could complain, he rolled around on there, and finally stayed still when he was lying on his back. He breathed out a long, content sigh- and Mumbo was only just a little more hesitant to tell him off.

Only a little. “We’re not supposed to be doing this.”

But Grian didn’t move. “I thought they were on vacation?”

“Well-”

“Do we have any way of getting caught?”

“If someone else saw…” He refuted weakly. But, judging by the next sigh Grian let out, followed by a few lazy stretches- he guessed that he didn’t care very much.

After a few minutes of laying in the bed, and after Mumbo finally thought to lock the door behind him, Grian started moving around again, and started snooping around the room. When he crossed the mirror, he seemed surprised to see his own face in it- feathers puffing out for a fraction of a second before he got distracted again by something else. There was a desk below that mirror, with drawers that had boxes of different types of jewelry and makeup alike. 

He titled a box in his hands- wooden, with carefully painted flowers on the top of it- and he grinned after opening it.

"You can't pocket any of that."

"Oh, come on. I won't." He said noncommittally- but Mumbo had the feeling that he was lying through his teeth. His clawed hands carefully picked through the contents, and the minute he seemed to find what he was looking for, his face brightened, and he pulled it out. It was a singular earring. Long, forming the shape of a teardrop, and deep blue in color. He waved it in front of Mumbo's face, saying, "Does this look familiar?"

Mumbo anxiously stood back, and didn't come any closer to confirm it. And when he didn't respond, Grian frowned, and put the box down. But instead of putting the earring back, he switched it for the golden one that was already in his ear. He shook his head, and listened to the light clicking sound it made as he did so- seemingly entertained by it.

"I look like I'm made of money." He claimed, smile widening. Grian leaned back against the chair, and sighed dreamily. “If I lived like this… you wouldn’t hear me complaining about anything ever again.”

“If you were rich?” At the time, Mumbo hated the thought. Because despite being friends for the greater part of a year, he loathed the thought of how someone like Grian would act if he were actually rich, and raised similarly to how his employers were. Grian and the daughter he was serving were alike in some ways, and sometimes, it was easy to draw parallels between them. They were both young, just around Mumbo’s age, and a little too brash, sometimes… And maybe if Grian's hair was cleaner and longer, he would've even looked somewhat like her. 

But there were also significant differences. If they were completely alike in every single way, Mumbo wouldn’t have considered him a friend, and wouldn’t have gone out of his way to see him at all.

Grian looked at him in the mirror and grinned at him. The feathers around his head moved, and puffed out to make his face a little bigger. “And if you were by my side, of course.”

“Ha.” Mumbo’s mouth was a little dry, all of a sudden. "Right. I don't think there's a chance of that ever happening."

"What?" He snapped, "Why not?"

"Well… it's just an earring, isn't it?"

After that comment, Grian's eyes immediately darted to the wardrobe- and, well, he couldn't try to stop him, even if he wanted to.

Grian almost tore his shirt apart trying to get it off, only slowing down when Mumbo gently reminded him that he was borrowing it. Grian sat still as Mumbo unbuttoned the shirt, and slowly pulled it off. 

The minute his shirt was gone, Grian was carefully picking through the daughter's wardrobe, and he pulled out one of many dresses that were stuffed in there. It was one of the few formal ones- dark red, sleeveless, draping well past his ankles, and dragging behind him as he walked. Mumbo had to help him put it on. 

In the end, it was on, and he was helping Grian walk back over to the mirror.

"What else?" He asked, once he saw his reflection again.

And then, with his anxieties slightly quelled, Mumbo spent the next hour or so helping Grian play dress-up. He brushed knots out of his hair, and then ran through it a couple of times with a beautiful comb, smoothing it out so that, even if it was short, it could look stylish. He moved his hair out of the way to show his eyes, instead of letting it fall back over his face- and Grian looked surprised over it, eyebrows raising and brown eyes widening at the sight. 

Mumbo clipped his hair back, and let it stay there. He helped Grian apply a bare amount of makeup from the many boxes around the mirror- laughing quietly as he sputtered at the powdered blush being liberally applied, and struggling immensely from trying to help him apply lipstick. Then, he added on other bits of jewelry that slightly matched the earring he put in earlier.

"Sit up straight." He muttered slightly. And, when Grian silently raised his shoulders as he did so, Mumbo helped them move back down. "There."

The end sight almost took his breath away. At that moment, Grian really did look like a fancy baroness- or a wealthy woman of some kind. And though he seemed a little surprised to see himself looking so- pretty- it was a welcome sight, and Mumbo watched as his hands raised, and as he completely focused on his own appearance.

"How do I look?"

"You look…" Mumbo didn't even know what to say. Grian lifted his chin, and his posture stiffened- and, for a moment, Mumbo could convince himself that this was actually some noble's esteemed daughter- even if the makeup wasn't so meticulously applied. And when his face straightened out, Mumbo could compare it to one of the many portraits that were lining the hallways of his employer's home- like his pose and his face needed to be painted. "...eerie." He finished quietly, and Grian finally broke the stillness by scowling.

"I look like I kick poor people for fun."

"To be fair, I think that's just you."

And back then, Grian always had the horrible habit of smiling widely without it reaching his eyes- no matter how genuine the sentiment behind it was. 

But that time, when his mouth stretched to show his sharp teeth, and his eyes locked onto his reflection in the mirror, Mumbo wasn't really bothered by it.)

"Mumbo."

And now, he was similarly transfixed by his appearance.

Sometimes, Mumbo thought that Grian was made to live this sort of lavish lifestyle, and that he was just accidentally dropped off in an unfortunate situation. He wore fine things well. He took every sort of luxury he could get, and he never questioned whether or not he deserved or needed it. (Quite the opposite, if anything, insisting that it was something he should rightfully own). And when he wanted to, and when he really tried, he could pass as someone that seemed to think that everyone and everything was beneath him- and not in his usual, prideful way- but in a more classy way that would intimidate even the most stoic nobles. 

At the same time, Mumbo didn’t know why his appearance was that big of a deal, considering that they were planning on killing the groom later. If it was his actual wedding, Mumbo would've been running around alongside him, and helping him through every minor inconvenience and anxiety he was feeling. If he wanted to get married, even if the thought of it was …strange.

But right now, it didn't really warrant the panic he was putting himself into. Even if Scar was dissatisfied with Grian’s looks- which would be difficult, and near impossible, seeing that he was going all out for this silly little ceremony- he clearly wasn’t going to separate from him in time to save his life. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter very much. (It also seemed like, with how quickly everything was moving along, the family wanted this over and done with as soon as possible- so why waste time trying to make it look good when it was going to be over so soon?)

"You look great. I don't know what you're so worried about." Mumbo said plainly.

"Great?" Grian repeated, "I want to look stunning."

"You do look stunning."

"You said great, earlier-" He said- but before Mumbo could refute it, Grian was talking again, “My gloves are white.” He muttered. “Do you think I could get a white veil to match it?”

“Probably.”

Grian gave him a pair of puppy eyes. “Can you ask?”

-

The guard posted outside of Scar’s room almost didn’t let him in.

Mumbo showing up without Ariana by his side might’ve been a little suspicious, sure- but it wasn't too suspicious. 

It certainly didn’t warrant the guard’s suspicion, as Mumbo tried to explain that Ariana asked him to see Scar, and that Ariana was too busy getting ready to do it herself. As her bodyguard- and, in most cases, manservant- he was permitted to do as she asked. And, surely, from one guard to another, they could understand where he was coming from, right?

And though Mumbo didn't like confrontation, and would avoid this whole conversation if he could- he pressed until the guard finally stepped aside.

Mumbo knocked on the door. And, when he heard a muffled Scar telling him to come in, he finally, tentatively, opened the door.

"Hey, Scar, can I ask-"

Mumbo’s question was interrupted by a light, quiet scream. And, just as his eyes adjusted to the room, he immediately caught the sight of a figure dashing behind a room divider.

And because he was already inside, and the door wasn’t immediately slammed shut in his face, he was given a second to take in what the room looked like.

Right off the bat- Mumbo saw that it was big. 

Much bigger than the room he and Grian were currently staying in. Though, if the two of them were expected to live traditionally, and expected to be sleeping in the same room together, then the extra size could’ve made more sense- even if it was still bigger than he expected it to be. Instead of matching the walls in the hallways and in most of the rooms, the wallpaper was an off-white color and had yellow, flowery patterns printed on it. The floors were made of wood, but covered in a variety of colorful rugs.

The next thing he noticed was the plants. They were practically everywhere, in the room- tall ferns potted in the corners, and plants curling on pots that were resting on high shelves. There weren't any windows in his room, from what he could see- nothing aside from a small one, near the ceiling, just barely cracked open- but the plants seemed to be faring well without much sunlight. Coming from magic, Mumbo assumed.

He remembered the bed, from the first time he'd seen the room- off-center and shrouded in a thin layer of curtains that wrapped around the bed frame- but now, he was seeing it uncovered for the first time. Thick blankets were twisted around the bottom of the bed, completely unmade, with clothes neatly piled on top of it- similar to how Grian’s bed was looking currently.

The whole room was shrouded in a faint, dim light coming from the fireplace in the corner of the room. And, despite being bugged by a slight chill that came with waking up so early in the morning, Scar’s room was… comfortable, and warm.

"...Scar?" He asked again.

"Oh-! I thought you were someone else!" Scar said nervously, voice just a touch out of breath, and his head finally poked out from behind the divider. “Isn’t it bad luck for you to see the groom before the ceremony?”

“That… would only work if I were the bride.” 

“...Oh.” And, after the revelation, Scar stood up straight, and finally came into view.

His hair was damp, and cascading in a frizzy mess past his shoulders, like he'd forgotten to brush it for a few days. Or, realistically- seeing that he was moving the front of his plain robes over, to adjust it more comfortably, and tightening the sash around his waist- he'd likely just taken a bath, and was just starting to get ready for his wedding.

He looked similar to how Grian did when Mumbo also saw him- not in appearance, seeing as Scar wasn't dressed yet, but instead in his expression, and how he was carrying himself. They mirrored each other, in how they were both clearly nervous about getting married- but while Grian was nervous about it going well, looking good, and worried about his cover being blown, he wasn’t sure what Scar was nervous about. Most grooms and brides had cold feet before the wedding- but it wasn’t usually this intense, was it? Scar was looking a little pale, compared to Grian, and it reminded him of the night when he caught him in the little patch of woods on his property.

And, during a moment of silence, Scar’s head tilted a little.

“Well?” Scar asked. Nothing changed, just yet, but his tone was starting to even out.

“...” Well- what?

Scar walked back behind his divider. When he came out again, he was holding a brush, and slowly dragging it through his hair. “Did you need something?” He clarified, eyes kept on a large mirror on his wall.

“...Ariana needs a veil.” He said slowly, just barely remembering to call Grian by the right name. “A white one, that will match her gloves.”

“Does she only have the pink one?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s her favorite."

"And- did you and her want to… stop by the town, and get something?”

"Would we have the time to?"

Scar seemed to honestly think about it. The brushing paused, for a moment.

"Uh- no… probably not." Then, he turned around, and started going through a dresser of his. It was tall, reaching somewhere around Mumbo’s chin, and Scar spent the next few moments digging through it until he presumably found what he was looking for, "Aha! How's this?"

It was a black sash. He dropped it into the palm of Mumbo’s hand, and Mumbo took a second to look over it.

"Uh-"

"I have a pair of gloves that match. She could just…” He made the motion with his hands, “Wrap it around the front of her face, if she’d like.”

Then, from one of the top drawers, Scar also pulled out a pair of black gloves. Smaller in size, and hopefully at the size that would fit Grian perfectly.

"This will have to do, then. Thank you-"

"Oh, Mumbo." He said quickly, and Mumbo paused at the door, "Can you help me with something?"

"Yes?"

"You're helping Ariana get ready, right? Could you help me-" Scar ran his fingers through his own hair- long, much longer than Grian's was, "I wanted our hairstyles to match."

"You want me to do it?"

He smiled sheepishly. "If it's not too much to ask."

Mumbo looked at the closed door behind him. 

Then, after exhaling silently, he said, "Of course- where'd you put your hairbrush?"

-

During the ceremony itself, it was a bright and beautiful day outside- with the sort of sunny weather he'd been dreading to lose for months now, with how quickly winter was approaching.

Warm, but not unbearably hot, and keeping them at a fine line between sweating or shivering throughout the day. The garden was looking extraordinarily beautiful that day as well, with every patch of plants blooming brightly with colorful flowers.

Mumbo wondered, briefly, if there was any magic being used to upkeep everything. He wasn't exactly an expert on taking care of plants, but he remembered the conversation he and Scar had very well- and he had the feeling that some of these plants probably shouldn't have been blooming around this time of year. But, then again, the maids always stressed the garden's importance during their tour- how Scar worked so hard to upkeep everything, sometimes spending hours getting lost in his work- and if that were the case, then why would he spend so much time messing around with the garden just to use magic on it later?

Then again, the man working on it was living in isolation, and was probably just bored. A lot of what happened here could easily be easily chalked up to that. And if that were the case, then Mumbo was just glad that Grian wasn't actually marrying him. When Scar was bored, he kept himself busy, and made beautiful gardens out of it. When Grian was bored, he made it everyone’s problem. (If they were an actual couple, they'd either clash easily, or both learn something from it- but since they weren't, and because Mumbo was certain that Scar wouldn't be around much longer, it wouldn't matter much anyway.)

Chairs were lined up in front of a bright, flowery arch, and Mumbo caught the sight of poppies blooming from it, and immediately knew that the red flowers must’ve been Grian’s suggestion. (Now that he was looking at it further, he noticed that there were poppies blooming all around the scene- and he knew that it couldn’t have been a coincidence.)

And, in giving Grian some alone time, Mumbo stuck to helping out the other servants with setting up. He helped them set up a white tarp, to block out the sun from shining on a certain section of the garden, and then he helped them bring out different tables and chairs to set underneath it- leveling them on surfaces of the garden that were just even enough. He helped settle a tablecloth over it, and then he helped with the food. They stacked plates on the ends, to make sure that the tablecloth wouldn’t blow away in the wind- but, despite their worries, he saw that it wasn’t really windy enough to warrant that kind of anxiety.

The guests- mostly Scar's family, presumably, judging by the extravagant clothing a lot of these guests were wearing- all showed up around the same time. Nobody was too early, or too late, as far as he knew- and every single one of them looked… bored. Some of them were rich enough to afford beautifully intricate watches, and showed their boredom by constantly checking them, and trying to see what time it was. (Mumbo knew would be too, if he had one. Not out of boredom, but instead because he was worried about everything going well, and worried about Grian being on time.)

Then, the ceremony began, and Mumbo watched it along with the rest of the servants. 

While some of them sat down in the empty chairs in the back, most of them were standing off to the side. And, because Mumbo felt ill at the thought of sitting down (instead preferring to stand up and tap his foot the whole way through,) he didn't fight over one of those chairs. (And when he looked over at the servants standing near him, he noticed that a lot of them looked similarly bored. If they all had watches on their wrists, Mumbo had the feeling that they'd be checking and rechecking them, to satiate some of their boredom.)

The ceremony played out just as it did in rehearsals. 

Scar arrived, then Grian- and, at the sight of him, a lot of the guests and servants sat straight up, and stared at him. (Mumbo could quite clearly see his eyes lock with Grian's, for a moment, as if the other was looking for a sense of comfort, and Mumbo just simply nodded. 

A quiet: I'm here.

Then Grian looked away, and it continued as normal- but if Mumbo saw him set his jaw, or continue with his head held a little higher, he wouldn't say anything about it.)

Scar and Grian held hands, black gloves holding a pair of white ones, and the preacher read their vows. As far as Mumbo could tell, Scar looked completely fine- which was a stark contrast to how he looked earlier that morning. His expression was calm, and light- more steady than Grian's, even with half his face covered- and he didn't look so horribly pale, or anxious.

(It was weird- Scar always seemed so calm and collected, when it was the three of them, or any time Grian was there- but the few times it's been just the two of them, Scar has been more… expressive. And, notably, more anxious- but Mumbo couldn't pin if it was just his presence making him like that, or if he was normally like that, just not in front of… Grian. 

Was it some weird way to try and impress Ariana, or did it come from something else? There was no way he could've been onto him- they left no tracks, or room for doubt- but there was definitely something going on, and Mumbo didn't like the thought of it one bit.)

The preacher stopped talking, for a moment, and Mumbo stood up a little straighter.

After an obvious deep breath, Grian brought the sash down and rested it below his chin. 

From where he was standing, Mumbo could barely see Grian's face, and he trusted that the other guests couldn't see much of anything as well. Mumbo looked over, just in time to see Scar's eyebrows raising in shock, and-

Mumbo was slightly worried.

He should be fine. They’d rehearsed everything leading up to the kiss. Grian was impulsive, and cocky, but he was smart. He knew what he was doing, and he's likely already thought of it a million times over. 

(But still, for the sake of keeping everything a secret, Mumbo slightly wished that the whole kissing thing could be skipped over in the ceremony. Was it too unbelievable for them to just wish their undying love for each other? Couldn’t they just hold each other's hands in front of a crowd, not push any further, and call it a day?

There was still a whole party they had to go through, after that- and if Mumbo was exhausted at the idea of it, he couldn't even imagine what Grian must've been feeling.)

Then, they finally kissed.

There was quiet applause from those in attendance. Some from Scar’s family, standing tall and dressed in rich fabrics, along with a lot of the servants, who were dressed in their plain gray and white working clothes.

Mumbo was surprised to see that the servants were being treated as guests, even though most rich people would want those servants to be working, and serving the more rich and important people in attendance. (Mumbo’s been in the same situation many times before- years ago, at actual weddings- and he remembered that the only people that were really celebrating were those that weren't working. While the rich nobles married, and feasted, and drank until their faces were numb and their mouths were loose- the kitchens were busy, and bustling, and every single servant on the floor was counting the hours until it was all over. 

Maybe the servants were just closer to the family here. In his old home, the servants were easy and frequently replaced. Here, on this isolated land, who knew how easy the process was, when it came to hiring other servants? Or how often they were kept around, before they were booted? Would it have been easier to pose as a servant, Mumbo wondered, and just go through the process of poisoning some wine? Pin it on one of the other servants?

Or was this really the best way to go? It was too late now, he knew, but he couldn't help but wonder.)

Mumbo watched Scar flinch suddenly, and it halted his train of thought. Scar slowly pulled away from their kiss, brought his hand up to his mouth, and kept it there for a few seconds. Grian smiled in turn, and brought the sash back up and over his mouth. 

Scar was wearing a pair of white gloves. When he touched his lip, and looked at his hand again- there was a small yet visible red stain painting the very tip of his finger.

Nobody else in attendance seemed to notice it. Scar smiled at Grian- a little strained, and confused- and then he brought his hand down before anyone else could see it.

-

Thankfully, the rest of the ceremony wasn't as jarring.

They had their first dance, together- slow violin music playing as the two of them swayed around each other. This time, unlike rehearsals, they were looking at each other. Vaguely, Mumbo swore that he could see Grian's eyes crinkling into a smile.

Mumbo was reminded of his first night there.

Though instead of being stuck in a mildly stuffy room- awkwardly standing around, and waiting for the party to end- he was standing in a lovely spanning garden. He waited by the sides, and anxiously watched their first dance. (Not waiting for Grian to kill him, since they couldn't, and not even waiting for a signal of some kind- but instead keeping an eye on the crowd. Just in case.)

Then, he was watching them as the music picked up, and as other guests in attendance seemingly lost interest in them, and focused on their own entertainment instead. He watched them as Scar introduced Grian to (what Mumbo assumed to be) his parents, and watched as Scar seemed to laugh at something he had said- shoulders raising, and laughing so quietly that Mumbo barely heard it from where he was standing. He saw Grian seemingly try to laugh as well- but then Grian turned to look back at him, eyebrows raising and eyes widening for a second, suggesting that Mumbo was going to get told everything later.

Then, the two of them were sitting down. And, despite multiple times when Grian would gesture for him to walk over and sit with him and Scar- Mumbo stayed stuck to the sides. His job was to keep an eye on him, and he could do that at a distance. Eventually, Grian gave up trying to wave him over, and instead focused all of his attention on his new husband.

Some people stopped by their table to wish them well- but Mumbo could see that they were all mostly formalities, and meant to be polite. With most of the people that approached them, the minute their back would turn, their expression would quickly shift from a pleasant smile to a deep frown. Nobody, it seemed, liked Ariana very much- or just didn’t like the fact that she was marrying someone like Scar.

But, for the most part, it was polite.

Then, a member of Scar's family showed up at the table. 

Someone shorter, that Mumbo didn't recognize, and didn't even see before he made himself known. And he only guessed that he was family because, while he wasn't dressed like the bride and groom, he was still dressed nicely. A lot nicer, compared to some of the guests in attendance- wearing that signature green color, with the golden embroidery.

But the thing that really caught Mumbo's eye- despite the fact that he looked almost nothing like Scar- was the fact that his hair was short. It was still a little shaggy, and well taken care of- but Mumbo couldn't remember the last time he's seen an elf with short hair- if he's ever seen it, anyway. He wasn't exactly brushed up with elf culture, but he knew that there was some significance to their hair. He knew that Scar was important on day one because the hair hidden under his hat was clean, and obviously neat.

It made him stick out. He approached Scar's table with his hands behind his back, and Grian visibly drew away from Scar as he began to talk- and, even if the chattering of the crowd drowned past his ears, and he couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, he could still hear something being said. A back and forth- one that made Scar sit up a little straighter.

That time, when Grian looked over at him and subtly waved him over with a gravely serious expression on his face, Mumbo finally walked over. Grian seemed to relax as he approached, as if having him by his side was enough for him, and Mumbo just barely caught the tail-end of a conversation that was growing more and more heated when he said-

“Is there a problem here?”

Mumbo was immediately shot with a glare. It froze him in place- but his face was frozen, along with the rest of his body. And, on the outside, he knew that he must've looked steady.

"This doesn't concern you."

But, before either Grian or Mumbo could say anything, Scar held up his hand.

"I'm trying to enjoy my wedding, Cub. We can talk about this later."

Cub's annoyed expression deepened, at the statement. "You always say that."

"I mean it this time." And, now that Mumbo was closer, he could see that Scar's expression was very similar to Cub's, if not matching it completely. When he wasn't speaking, his lips were pressed together tightly, and his jaw was set like he was gritting his teeth. "Leave."

Then, without another complaint, Cub finally turned around and walked away- disappearing within the crowd.

After Cub left, Scar put his hand over the lower part of his face, turned his face away, and sighed.

"Brothers, y’know." He muttered.

Grian gave him a look. Mumbo gave a similar one back, eyebrows raised, and hoped that he was accurately getting the message across.

They never got the chance to meet their client. 

That sort of confidentiality was crucial, in this line of work- especially when their main goal was to make it seem like Xelqua, the hitman and thief, was only one person taking on such heavy jobs. In turn, a lot of the people ordering these hits would either want to remain anonymous because of their notoriety, or just because they didn't want to be complicit if they were to get caught. This client was, similarly, anonymous. And though it was risky, taking on such a heavy job while also having no idea who the person paying them was supposed to be…

Well. They had a suspect now, at the very least. Hits were only made on people that knew the target well, and wanted them dead. As far as they knew, the reason why the hit was being made was to spite Scar’s family- and, well, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that Cub was a part of it, if he wasn’t the main perpetrator. (And though they couldn't put a face to their client, and even if this client decided to turn around and not give them the amount they were promised- they were given some payment upfront, before the mission started. Enough money for them to live comfortably for the rest of their lives, if they didn't split it-

But then the client revealed that it was only 1/3 of the payment, and that the rest would be delivered upon Scar's death. With the payment they already had, they could've taken it and left- but with the promise of so much more… it was impossible to give up. An indescribable amount of wealth was waiting for them both at the end of this, if they did it right and they did it well. It was right at the tips of their fingers.)

Grian broke eye contact with Mumbo, and moved to rub his hand against Scar's arm. "Are you okay?" He asked him, quietly.

Scar paused before he nodded, hand moving away from his face to smooth down the front of his outfit. 

"Ignore that, please. Let's just enjoy the ceremony." Then, he pushed out his chair, and stood up. "I'm getting something to drink- do you two want anything?"

"No thank you," Mumbo said politely.

"I'll take whatever you're having," Grian said, in turn, and Scar nodded before he left.

The minute Scar’s back was turned, Grian turned around, and pulled Mumbo into an empty chair next to him.

“His family is weird.” He said in a strangely giddy manner. His uncovered hands were clasped around Mumbo’s- and, when he looked down, he noticed the sight of a golden wedding band encrusted with small red jewels. It fitted his ring finger perfectly.

He didn't look at it for very long. "Was that our client?"

"I think he would've been more subtle if he just told us that he was targeting his brother." He reported quietly, "He's the owner of this huge company- which could explain the payment- and he kept asking Scar to be a part of it, even though he keeps refusing. Which… could be a motive." He tapped his fingers against his covered mouth. “I can’t be sure."

"Where's the rest of his family?"

"Hm? They had to leave early. Something about the altitude making them sick, or something- but I'm supposed to be having dinner with them tomorrow, to get properly introduced." The grip on his hand tightened, "I need you to be there with me."

"If he's not…"

Grian’s eyes went half-lidded, and his eyebrows raised. "I want to see what the rest of his family are all about. I think this might be our first time getting involved with this kind of family drama. Our usual clients are so…"

"I know."

"Maybe we can stick around a little longer. To see how things pan out."

"And then..?"

Grian smiled.

"If we take care of Scar, we're the ones that are going to be inheriting this property- and I'll take great care of everything after he's gone."

At some point, Scar rejoined them, with drinks and a plate stacked with food. And, although Mumbo was at the table with them, instead of standing off to the sidelines, it felt like nothing changed at all.

From the moment he woke up, he felt something was off, and it felt like it was a million times easier to get lost in thought. He briefly registered Grian’s hand brushing against his a couple of times throughout the conversation, along with a few choice words sent his way, but he was never fully brought back from his thoughts.

-

When games began, Mumbo excused himself from the table.

"Last one?" He asked Grian quietly, tapping the side of his glass, which had been empty for just a couple of minutes now.

And Grian- clearly, pleasantly buzzed, but not to a worrying point, nodded. "Last one."

"You go have fun. I'll be right back."

And, despite Grian's half-hearted attempts to get him to come back, Mumbo left the scene. (He noticed, faintly, that Scar watched him leave with a curious expression on his face- but by the time he left, Scar was talking to Grian, and the two of them were presumably wrapping themselves up in another conversation that Mumbo wasn't going to pretend to listen to.)

Instead, Mumbo stacked up a plate of food from the buffet, and walked away from the celebration.

There was a bright green hedge maze near the back of the garden, possibly for decoration- one of the many areas that were near a restricted section- and Mumbo quickly found himself walking into it. The paths leading up to the maze bloomed with smaller flowers that Mumbo just barely managed to avoid stepping on- but, on the inside, patches of it grew wildly, and soon led him to the middle of the small maze.

There was a marble fountain at the exact center, and though its design wasn't particularly eye-catching, the sound and serenity of the small space were still… something to marvel at. It's almost as if it was made for someone to sit there, and be alone with their thoughts.

And- seeing that there was a bench there, and that nobody was around, Mumbo happily obliged.

-

(Sometimes, Mumbo thought about what his own wedding would look like.

Especially when he was younger. It was an easy thing for his mind to draw to, since he’s had to attend so many of them. He'd always smooth out the front of his shirt- and even if the family insisted on him looking nice, to make them and their reputation look nice- he still imagined himself in a suit that was much nicer- wearing some nice jewelry, or something else made of gold. 

During the ceremony, he’d imagine himself as the one agreeing to those vows, and standing in front of so many people- but then, sometimes, the thought of doing something like that in front of so many people made him a little nauseous.

He was never the romantic type. He never imagined a specific somebody doing anything like that with him- but, if he ever got the chance to… Mumbo would want his wedding to be more private than the ones he was invited to. Being an orphan without very many friends, it wasn't that hard to believe that his eventual wedding would just be… him and his spouse.

The last wedding he attended looked a lot like Scar and Grian's wedding.

It was outdoors- though instead of being set in a garden, the family he served always prided themselves on how clean-cut their landscape was, and the only flowers Mumbo saw throughout the entire ceremony were the ones tucked into the bride's bouquet. It was a bright summer's day, which turned into a chilly summer's evening, and the whole family got together and celebrated. Dancing, music- games- but the main difference between that wedding and this one was that… the family didn't want the servants anywhere near the festivities. 

Mumbo stood by the food table- openly available, if anyone in the family needed him to be- and he stayed silent and still throughout most of it-

Until the bushes behind the table began to rustle. And, even before he turned around, he already knew who was going to be waiting for him. Grian- with those wide, blank eyes, and the feathers around his head outstretched- was staring straight at Mumbo, as if he'd been waiting for him to notice him. He would've been startled, if he weren't already used to Grian’s antics.

"What are you doing?" Mumbo asked, with a slight hint of annoyance in the tone of his voice. The only surprising thing about this was that Grian was usually too scared to go anywhere near the family’s property when they were home- and yet, there he was.

Grian looked away from him, and Mumbo followed his gaze. Now, he was staring straight at the daughter of the family- the owner of the room they broke into, just months beforehand. She was dancing with someone, and paying absolutely no attention to either of them.

"She's wearing the dress?"

"Her father is getting remarried. She was saving it for tonight."

"And I got to it first." There was a hint of triumph in his voice, and Mumbo knew that he wasn't feeling guilty in the slightest. In turn, Mumbo even felt his lips quirk up into a little smile.

A guest passed by, and Mumbo suddenly turned, and stood up straight- though neither of them even glanced his way, and instead made their way past him. Mumbo knew that he wasn't supposed to touch anything on the table, even if he saw a few of the other servants sneaking away bits of their own- but the option to take it when nobody important was looking was so… tempting.

And, apparently, it'd been tempting to Grian, too. Because he snuck out of the bush, and stuck himself close to the tablecloth- being just in Mumbo’s sight, while he was keeping just outside of everyone else's. Mumbo averted his gaze as Grian reached over, and felt around the table for food without fully poking his head out. And, as people came just a little too close for comfort, Mumbo stood in front of the table to help keep anyone from seeing his friend.

He heard the distinct tapping of Grian's talons around a metal plate. Moments later, when there was a beat of silence, Mumbo turned around to find that an entire plate stacked with iced rolls were gone, and Grian was nowhere to be seen-

But only for a moment. Grian's head poked through the bush and he gestured for Mumbo to follow him.

"I can't." He whispered to him.

"Nobody will even notice." But, before Mumbo could argue and say that somebody definitely would, once they caught wind of him being missing, he pressed, "Come on! They're getting cold. I need to talk to you."

And, seeing that finding a way out of it was difficult, Mumbo finally conceded. 

Grian walked further away from the party, plate in hand, and Mumbo made some excuse to a servant he was working with- if just to provide a loose alibi. Then, after he started walking towards the house, Mumbo ran in the opposite direction when he knew he'd be out of sight.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've had something this sweet?" Grian asked, when Mumbo came into sight. Frosting coated the side of his mouth, and he looked all too pleased with his progress.

With a sigh, Mumbo sat down next to him, and took an iced bun as well. It tasted sweet, and it soothed the empty ache in his stomach.

Setting up the wedding had been difficult, and tiring. So Mumbo let himself sit down, and quietly ate iced rolls with his friend for the next few hours- unnoticed, and unbothered.)

-

"Oh."

Mumbo was easily startled out of his thoughts. 

Standing at the entrance to the center of the maze was Scar. 

He looked just as surprised as Mumbo felt to see him there, but then that surprise quickly faded into a more neutral expression.

"This is… a private area." Scar explained, awkwardly.

"Oh." He echoed. Mumbo's grip around his plate tightened, "I can leave-"

"No! No. It's fine- I just…" His hands flattened out the front of his robes, "I wasn't… expecting anyone to be here." Then, he smiled, "Mind if I join you?"

"Uh… yeah. Sure."

Mumbo relaxed, awkwardly picking at his plate until Scar sat down beside him on the bench. Looking over, he saw that Scar was staring at the darkening sky, and when Mumbo followed his eyes, he saw gray clouds approaching. Scar sighed contently.

“Fun day?” Mumbo asked, setting the empty plate to his side.

“Exhausting.” He laughed, gaze gradually falling downwards and landing on his own shoes. “Your princess left before the ceremony ended.”

“What?” Grian wasn’t ever officially invited to a wedding, but he’d have to know that the bride wouldn’t just- “She left?”

“Left is a strong word. I guess it’s more along the lines of her being escorted back to bed. She’s nice and cozy in my bedroom, so don’t worry.” He was still smiling, and an arm spread out around the backrest. Mumbo could feel his fingers brush past his shoulder. “Shouldn’t that be your job?”

“You and her didn’t-” Mumbo didn't quite know what he was going to ask- and besides, it was more important for him to explain why he didn’t remain by her side. If he was an actual bodyguard, or servant, that sort of thing would be unacceptable. And from everyone else's eyes, it was unacceptable. Still, asking about Grian’s well-being felt more important, so he let the aborted question sit.

Scar sighed, now a less pleased sound. Irritated, if anything, though too soft to be malicious. “She’s fine. Fell asleep almost immediately after hitting the mattress. It’s probably just more alcohol than she’s used to.”

“...I'm sure it is.” Mumbo said, after a pause- even though it didn't really sound like him at all.

“After the best day in your life comes the worst day in your life.” He crossed his arms, and was still watching his shiny shoes. They were tapping back and forth in the rhythm of the muffled music in the distance. “I’ll have someone ready to help her deal with the hangover.”

It was a friendly sentiment. “She’ll probably want to be alone. I’ll take care of her.”

Scar’s eyes narrowed. “Like you did today?”

“I-”

“Kidding.” He quickly waved it off. “It’s not like someone would dare to do something on a day as big as a wedding. Everyone had their eyes on the bride.”

“Right.”

“But-” He raised his hands, body turned towards Mumbo. “You know her best. If she wants to be alone, we’ll leave her alone.”

Scar didn’t sound as casual as he wanted to- and although it felt silly to reassure a man who was going to die soon anyway, even if it was with a small lie, Mumbo felt bad enough to still try. “You’ll get to know her better in due time. She’s…” He searched for a word that would accurately describe Grian. “Fun. Never a boring day with her.”

“It’s not that.” It was pressed out quickly. “It’s just strange to marry someone after knowing them for a little under a month.”

Almost thematically, both of them turned their heads at the sudden brightness of lightning in the distance. He felt small raindrops on his skin, refreshing in a strange way.

Mumbo vaguely knew how marriages in these upper circles worked. It was rarely about love, and often people were fine with that. As long as the person you’re marrying was tolerable, it was only important if their status was adequate and their wealth was right. Love was secondary- and sometimes it developed, a natural progression from the close proximity the couple was put in- but just as often the spouses barely liked each other, and spent most of their time separated, nothing more than business partners living on the same premises. 

The thought of that felt a bit horrifying to Mumbo, but they also had their mountains of money to keep them company, and affairs weren’t uncommon, even if still scandalous.

“I wish I hadn’t married her.”

Mumbo’s eyes widened, and he snapped his head towards Scar. It was said so quietly that Mumbo almost thought he imagined it- thinking that the growling thunder sounded like whispers. But Scar’s face was barren of any former easiness, and instead filled with sorrow.

“What?” Mumbo gently prompted.

“I don’t mean that,” He said, almost like he was saying it to himself. “I- that was inappropriate. Sorry. I meant- I wish I didn’t have to marry her. She’s nice.”

Mumbo paused.

“Who would you want to marry, then?”

Scar’s eyes landed on him, almost slowly, and he seemed to think it over. Mumbo felt the eyes boring through him, scalding his skin. He hunched his shoulders, and his hands wrangled each other nervously.

“Someone I love, I guess.” And after a pause, he added, “Or no one at all. I don’t know.”

The sky flashed brightly- this time, neither of them turned their head at the lightning. Mumbo saw Scar’s mouth silently move, and after a moment he realized that he was counting- though he didn’t know what. He averted his gaze, looking at Scar’s hand that was sitting between them, glove white and pristine.

Thunder rolled in. Scar’s fingers twitched. He stood up very suddenly, back facing Mumbo, and his head craned upwards. His hands were clasped together and Mumbo could see his thumb brush over the rest of his hand. “Six miles.”

“Huh?”

“The lightning hit six miles from here. That means we have some time before it gets too dangerous to stay outside.”

Mumbo felt slightly amazed. He looked up at Scar, who was still turned away from him. It was probably an elf thing- if they were so connected to nature, it wouldn’t be too far off for them to be able to accurately tell how far away a thunderstorm was, or where exactly that lightning hit. Maybe they were even able to give a reliable forecast.

“I’d say we have about… half an hour.” He finally turned around to Mumbo, and he seemed to be more upbeat than before. He offered his hand, and Mumbo took it, albeit slightly confused. He was quickly pulled to his feet, and Mumbo gasped as he steadied himself against Scar’s shoulder, wobbling where he stood. Scar’s face was close to his, smiling down at him as he tried to appear less flustered, snapping his hand away from his shoulder as if it was burning him, and smoothing it over his hair.

“You hear the music from here?” There were droplets of rain on his cheek and nose and Mumbo thought that he could feel the rain picking up.

Mumbo nodded. It was faint- despite the weather he could hear cheering and the incoherent rambling of a talking crowd, clearly too out of it to use any kind of inside voice- and the music remained quick and unbothered by it all, playing ceaselessly and greeting the night.

“Do you want to dance with me?”

“Dance?”

“We never got the chance to.” Scar’s hand settled on his waist, and automatically, Mumbo moved it to his shoulder. He took a step forward, and Mumbo stumbled back, quickly glancing around his shoulder to see if anyone was around. “You seem tense.”

“There’s a reason we didn’t get the chance to dance,” He said quietly, just a step back from accusingly. He didn’t want to cause some huge scandal by dancing with the rich guy that owned the place, and on the day of his wedding no less. “I don’t- I’ll get in trouble.”

Scar laughed, and his chest shook as he did. “You make it sound like we’re doing something inappropriate.”

Mumbo wanted to tell him that they are, but he just pulled his lips into a thin line, looking up at Scar. The fact that he was tall was clear from the beginning, but now that they were standing so close, the extra inch from the heeled shoes just made Mumbo feel small.

“We’re just dancing.” Scar smiled, talking quietly. His hair was sticking to his forehead now. “You’re close to Ariana, so we’ll be close as well. There’s nothing strange about this.”

Mumbo still felt staunch on his perspective, but he also felt as though arguing would dig him into a deeper grave. With a sigh, he gripped Scar’s shoulder a bit tighter, and Scar immediately responded with a laugh, spinning them around the fountain.

Mumbo didn’t usually dance. He had lanky legs, and he was awkward, and dancing like this was for fancy people. He was fine with standing on the sidelines and tapping his foot along to the music.

“Come on, relax!” Scar let go of his waist, and spun him around himself. The wind was rushing past his face, and the rain was sticking to his suit, and before he knew it, there was laughter bubbling in his chest as Scar led him around with swinging steps.

“I can’t dance,” He told Scar, mustache twitching as he tried not to smile at the quick pace Scar was setting, pushing and pulling insistently.

“I’m leading! Just let me do the hard part, and you-” He spun them around a few times, and Mumbo felt the swoop in his stomach. “You follow.”

“Fine.” Mumbo sounded defiant, but it wasn’t all that bad. He liked being spun around, and once Scar picked up on that he made sure to do it more often, only stopping when he got too dizzy to walk in a straight line. Mumbo was pretty sure he stepped on Scar’s foot a few times- though Scar didn’t point it out, and Mumbo’s apology was always interrupted by another spin.

It wasn’t long until Scar was out of breath, and the rain was pouring down now, soaking their clothes and hair. Scar untangled his hand from Mumbo’s, and he felt a bit dejected for a moment- it was fun, more fun than he thought it would be- but then blinked in confusion when the hand joined his waist, both of them holding him now, slowly swaying both of them around.

Mumbo followed- putting his now-free hand on Scar’s shoulder, letting them hang over his back. Their dance wasn’t much of a dance, just a little rocking back and forth, but it was soothing after the impromptu stamina workout.

“Do you like it?”

Mumbo’s head snapped up, catching Scar’s eyes. They felt closer than they should be. “What?”

“Here. Do you like it here?”

“Hm.” He tilted his head. “It is a very beautiful mansion.”

“That’s in the eye of the beholder, I guess.” Scar shrugged. He wasn’t looking at Mumbo. “Have you and Ariana traveled around a lot? Since she- y’know. Wasn’t really at home.”

“We did see a lot.” 

Their eyes met. Scar didn’t have any obvious emotion on his face except a bit of curiosity, and it seemed unnerving. “What was your favorite place?”

“That we traveled to?”

“Yes.”

Mumbo paused. He tried to genuinely think about it- they’ve been at other mansions, though less hidden and less harder to breach, they’ve been in mega-cities, they’ve been on the countryside, cold mountain towns, searing deserts, beaches, endlessly stretching grassy fields… which one did he like most?

The cities were overwhelming. Grian was fascinated by them, and they were close enough to the streets they were more familiar with. The countryside was cute, but the close-knit communities that seemed to know everything about everyone had creeped Mumbo out a lot. The cold was something that Grian could handle when he was dressed for it, and he loved throwing snow at Mumbo- but they weren’t out in the mountains all that often. The nicest part about them was probably settling down in an inn with Grian, drinking something warm and warming each other up.

The beach… Although the sand bothered both him and Grian, it was peaceful, and once they found a shielded and lonely part of the beach, it was nice to just lay down and listen to the ocean crash against the shore. The climate didn’t get very cold there, not even at night, so they even fell asleep once, Mumbo’s shoulder pressed against Grian’s, (and later Grian sprawled all across Mumbo), and the never-ending expanse of the night sky blanketing their bodies. It was- nice. 

That was a long time ago. They had woken up, covered in sand, and Grian had laughed as he sat Mumbo upright to brush his back off. His hand had lingered on his shoulder, and Mumbo turned his head just in time to see Grian’s eyes cast over him, mouth open and air stagnant in his lungs like he was just about to say something- but then his hand fell off and he just sort of sheepishly smiled.

If there’s any place he’d like to come back to, it would be that lonely beach, surrounded by greenery and sharp rocks, untouched by anyone but themselves.

“I’d like to see the beach again, I think.”

Scar hummed. He looked up into the sky, smiling dreamily, and unintentionally, he pulled Mumbo a bit closer. “That’s nice. I’d love to see the ocean one day.”

“You haven’t?”

He shook his head. “Tell me. About the ocean.”

The request was so sincere and innocent that something about it tugged at Mumbo’s heartstrings. Unless he decided to make a spontaneous trip to the beach tomorrow, there wasn’t a big chance that he was ever going to see that ocean. So, just because Scar had been fairly nice to him and Grian, he decided to indulge him. 

He tried to make the description as accurate as possible. How fresh the air felt, how you couldn’t get the sand out for at least a couple of weeks, how the sun felt all-encompassing, almost as if it tried to make its home inside his chest, how he heard the calls of birds he didn’t notice in any other regions they traveled to-

And Scar was listening intently, pupils wide and trained on Mumbo’s words like a fish on a hook. After a while, they stopped swaying around, and Mumbo’s hands were interlocked behind Scar’s neck, and he had to be careful about his words to not let anything incriminating slip out-

“Scar?”

Mumbo’s mouth clicked shut, and Scar yelped-

The moment was over. They pulled apart, putting a good two feet between each other. 

Standing up straight, they looked towards the entrance of the opening to the fountain. Cub- Scar’s brother- was standing there, umbrella in his hand, shielding him from the rain. Scar looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. Mumbo acted as a wall between the two brothers, unsure if he should step aside.

“Well, hello.” Scar walked back up to Mumbo, shoulders hunched as he was looking at Cub over his shoulder, arms almost instinctively coming up to cross over his chest. “Not having fun at the festivities?”

Cub switched between observing Scar, to staring down Mumbo - completely still and quiet, the sound of raindrops hitting the umbrella breaking up the tense silence, slightly. “You left. As did the bride.”

“We're taking a breather.”

He didn’t take his eyes off Mumbo, even as he was still addressing Scar. “You should come back in. You’re soaked.” 

As he approached them, Mumbo felt a tug on his sleeve, some quiet pleading to stay in place. Mumbo didn’t budge- it all seemed to align perfectly with what Grian was theorizing about earlier today.

Scar’s brother was right in front of Mumbo, and from behind his back he revealed a second umbrella. He handed it over, eyes still intensely trained on Mumbo. As Mumbo grabbed the held-out end of the umbrella, Cub held onto it for a moment longer. “I take it that you’re the bride's bodyguard?”

Mumbo nodded, quietly replying, “Yes.”

A pause. “Then I take it-” He pushed the sharp end of the umbrella into Mumbo’s chest, not painful but noticeably digging into his shirt. “You will take care of my brother?”

He pulled his mouth into a thin line, nodding once again. The movement was tiny, and barely visible. “Of course.”

And finally, Cub let go, leaving Mumbo to open the umbrella and hold it over Scar’s head, who was still behind him. “Great. I expect you to do a good job. I need my brother to be safe, as well.” In the end, he only looked at Scar for a moment before turning around, and the two of them watched Cub leave the maze and disappear behind the bright green hedges.

He turned to Scar. He seemed tired- something subdued in his heart. But he wasn’t watching the space where Cub disappeared into, but instead watching Mumbo, seeing the water of the rain drop from his hair onto the bridge of his nose, and slip down to land over his top lip. 

“Let’s go back.” And then, “Stay close. We can both fit under that umbrella.”

Chapter Text

Thankfully, when Mumbo walked into Scar’s room to help Grian back to their own room, nothing had been out of place.

He was left sprawled out on the bed, angling himself in a weird position on his stomach. Every single thing he'd been meticulously picking at hours beforehand was now completely out of place, and if Mumbo hadn’t seen his chest moving as he breathed, he could've been convinced that he was dead. He was still, and quiet- and when Mumbo shook him, Grian's mouth only moved in a quiet mumble before he went back to staying still. (But, at the same time, there was a pillow under his head- even if his head wasn't anywhere near the top- and there was a blanket pulled up to his waist. Even if he was asleep, the setup made the whole thing look entirely intentional- like he didn't just pass out on Scar's bed after a long day, and was instead sleeping there on purpose.)

Mumbo was careful when he peeled back the blankets, and moved to pick Grian up- slowly tucking one of his arms under Grian's knees, while the other supported the back of his neck- and, at the same time, Mumbo found him to be surprisingly light. His head rolled to rest against Mumbo's shoulder when he finally lifted him up, but he otherwise remained asleep.

“Have a good night,” Scar murmured as the two of them were walking out the door, standing just beside it as they left.

“Thank you.” He said just as quietly. And, unlike their first night talking together, Mumbo noticed that the door didn’t close quite as suddenly. It was almost like Scar kept it open for a few seconds longer, even as Mumbo was walking away from him- as if he was expecting him to turn around, for some reason.

Mumbo didn’t think about it too much. As he turned to the next hall, he barely gave Scar’s closed door a passing glance, more focused on finally putting an end to their wedding night.

He sighed, and let himself relax just a little bit.

This whole situation could’ve been bad for the mission. Really bad- and Mumbo could easily place the blame on himself for leaving, or on Grian for drinking, and willingly splitting off with Scar… But, in the end, he was just glad that the two of them were lucky, and got out of it without any major setbacks. They were both fine.

Grian only started to move again once Mumbo set him on their bed. There was a moment of pause before Grian stretched, and popped some of his joints in the process.

“Grian?” He asked quietly, and the avian hummed lightly. "Are you awake?"

He grumbled. "Yes."

“Can we talk before you go back to sleep? I have something for you.”

Grian didn’t seem much more awake, but his eyes remained open as he waited, and Mumbo knew that it was the closest he was going to get to grabbing his full attention.

Slowly, Mumbo reached into the breast pocket of his jacket.

There’s a gift that's been sitting in his pockets for a long time, now- what used to be a heavy weight on his chest became something familiar- but by the time he thought to give it to Grian, he’d forgotten about it just as quickly. 

Still, he held it up to him.

“I wanted to give you this as a wedding gift.”

Grian blinked slowly, one eye before the other, and it seemed like it was genuinely taking him a minute to process what he was saying.

“You got this for me?” And, after a second of really taking it in, Grian startled. He was still groggy, but suddenly much more awake. The hairpin was detailed with a circular, thin design, but it was a design that the two of them were all too familiar with.

(The only reason why Grian hadn’t worn it upon seeing it for the first time was because his hair was too short to put it in-

But the hairpin still caught his interest, and Mumbo watched him tentatively hold it up to the light. One end was sharp, the other embedded with two smoothed jewels, and Grian was careful to mind both ends, but still turned it over several times to get a good look at it.)

"I- didn't know you… still had this." He said, quietly, and Mumbo couldn't tell if the way he spoke was because he was tired, or if it was a direct result of his drinking.

"I thought it was appropriate. Since it's our last mission and all." Grian hummed pleasantly and carried the hairpin with a certain gentleness that Mumbo's rarely seen. "We can try putting it on tomorrow."

Grian grimaced. Then, moments later, Grian was patting at his hair- fingers tapping against the crooked headpiece, and carding through his hair- and he shot Mumbo a look. It didn't take much more than that look for Mumbo to know what he was silently asking for. 

He helped Grian take off the headpiece and set it down on the end table. Then- even as the gown he wore for the wedding was loose, and comfortable enough for him to sleep in- he helped Grian out of that too, arms wrapped around him and keeping him steady as the other swayed slightly. But after folding it up, and just as Mumbo was going to grab something else for him to wear, he turned around and realized that Grian wasn't sitting on the edge of the bed anymore.

He was, instead, slowly crawling under the covers, his movements just as sluggish and tired as they'd been since the moment he woke up. He collapsed onto the bed, and remained still. Knowing that he was going to sleep soon, Mumbo draped the nightgown over the couch.

“How much did you drink, again?” Mumbo asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, and kicking his shoes off. “Last I checked, you were fine.”

Grian shifted, and moved the blankets around to uncover the lower half of his face. “I feel dizzy.”

“Do you feel sick?”

“No. I’m tired.”

Mumbo sighed, and laid down next to him. “You’re going to get a horrible headache tomorrow.”

“I don’t get hangovers.”

“You also don’t get this drunk.”

It was one of the main benefits of his avian traits. He, for some reason, had many strange tolerances- and that meant that he had to drink a lot before it became anything they needed to worry about. (And, last Mumbo checked before he separated from him, he should've been fine enough to leave on his own. Not… passed out on Scar's bed, and left alone like that.)

Grian scoffed in return. And, swiftly, the heavy blankets were thrown at him- only covering a small part of his torso. But before he could fix it, a heavy weight slowly accompanied it.

“I also don’t get married.” The blankets said, as the weight rested against his chest. “So many firsts…”

Mumbo helped the blanket cover the rest of his body- past his legs, and up to his arms- but when he finally uncovered Grian’s face, his partner was already fast asleep.

-

Mumbo’s sleep was interrupted by the sound of wailing coming from somewhere in Scar’s mansion.

It was muffled, but it was loud, and it was a clear sign of distress. And when Mumbo woke up- immediately sitting up in bed, and looking around the room, as if he could spot what was causing it- it only took a second for his mind to clear. 

Grian, on the other hand, was still set on upholding his deep sleeper title. His arms- previously resting around him, and seeping warmth from him in his sleep- only moved because Mumbo was sitting up so abruptly.

“Mumbo-?” He muttered sleepily.

“What was that?”

Half a second later, after Grian sighed and listened closely, almost looking like he was seconds away from falling back asleep, he seemed to realize what was going on. His eyes shot open, and he sat up as well- but then he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and his socked feet shuffled across the ground. He looked outside their room's only window, pressing his face against it, but judging by his displeased face- the expression barely visible, with how late it was, even if his face was cast in the light of the moon- Mumbo guessed that he couldn’t see anything.

The wailing almost seemed like it was on and off, and sounded like a rhythm. There was wailing- long, loud, and entirely unpleasant- and then there was a pause in between it. The pauses were long as well. And with every pause, the two of them would hope that it’d be the end of it, and that they’d be able to go back to sleep. But, after every pause, the wailing would only continue.

“We should investigate.”

“Should we?” Mumbo asked- but Grian was already set off, and he was already moving around the room. He put on one of the many nightgowns they got for him before the wedding- and, from the minimal lighting, he couldn’t tell if it was white or pink, but he could tell that it was long, puffy around the collar and sleeves, and likely warm enough to stave off their cold room. Then he put on a thick, dark coat over it- all before he slipped on the flat pair of shoes that he left by the door.

And when Mumbo realized that he was just going to leave- going outside all on his own, with whatever was making that terrible noise- Mumbo almost tripped over the twisted sheets on the bed to try and catch up with him. When Grian saw that he was coming too, he stopped just by the door, and waited for him to get ready.

In his rush, Grian almost forgot to put on his veil. Mumbo had taken it off the nightstand, and he waited until Grian put it on again before he finally opened the door.

When they did open the door, they were met with the sight of someone running down the hall, and quickly passing their door. It didn’t take long for them to realize it was Scar- dressed in a green gown, likely his own sleepwear, his hair pinned up but mussed, with some strands flying out behind him as he ran towards the exit.

The two of them wordlessly followed. Mumbo was quick, never breaking past a light jog, but Grian was trying significantly harder to catch up- hitching up the skirt of his nightgown, and running as fast as he could through the halls.

Then the wailing stopped, and this time, it stopped for good. And when the two of them turned the corner, they finally saw what caused it.

It was only surprising for a moment, to see a giant cat sticking its head through a doorway it could easily squeeze through- but then, Mumbo's sense caught up with him, and he remembered that it wasn't unusual for these sorts of animals to be kept on a rich person's property.

Growing up where Mumbo had, he was constantly treated to the sight of more exotic animals living in captivity. (That's what they were called- exotic. As if somehow finding and owning such animals was rare instead of impossible. And while Mumbo was used to rich people buying rare animals to show off, just to abandon them when taking care of them became too inconvenient…

Something about Scar’s pet was different.)

It was a giant cat- its head poking through the open door, while the rest of its body was outside, and curled up on the ground. It wasn’t anything like a tiger, or lion- it just looked like a large housecat. The type that could be domesticated. It was gray and white, with the same sort of eyes Scar had- green, with narrowed pupils, as Scar had approached it- and its large pink snout was pressed into the side of Scar’s face. It was sniffing him, and after it seemed satisfied, it began to purr, loudly reverberating around the room. All the while, Scar’s fingers were threading through its fur, and scratching around its round face. It seemed to lean into his touch, and even enjoy it.

Mumbo couldn’t tell what his relationship with this animal was usually like. But, right off the bat, it seemed like it was a nice one- and even though they haven’t seen any of those types of animals yet, Mumbo guessed that they were being well taken care of. Spoiled, even, judging by the fact that Scar seemed to be comforting it instead of punishing it for waking him up in the middle of the night.

(Mumbo remembered the old exotic animals he'd care for- how the owners would get mad if they did anything other than look nice in front of their rich friends, and how most of them would even end up being sold off or just- left in the wild. Mumbo wondered how they would've reacted if their exotic pet cried, and woke them up in the middle of the night.

He wondered why those same animals didn't kill them, first.)

Then, Scar seemed to notice them standing there.

“I’m sorry if she woke you up.” After scratching the spot behind her ear, and watching her head tilt into the touch, he gestured for them to come closer- and they did, although they were visibly cautious about it. “This is Jellie.” Scar said, fondly, “She’s one of my cat pandas.”

“Cat pandas?” Mumbo asked.

Scar’s hand moved to scratch the underside of her chin.

“I have a few of them- they’re usually content with staying in their enclosure, but this one-” And, as he said it, the scratches got deeper, and her head got lower, “-likes to come inside a lot.”

“Are they native around here?”

“No.” He said, and he pulled away a little, “Unfortunately not. But they’re happy here. Sustained.” Then, he frowned, “Well- she is happy, but she likes to complain sometimes. She’s very vocal.”

Once Mumbo got close enough to the cat panda, Scar looked over at him with a pensive look on his face. Then he held out his hand, and when Mumbo took it, Scar brought him closer to Jellie.

With Scar's hand gently guiding his, Mumbo pressed his hand up against the creature’s snout. In turn, Jellie huffed, and her eyes squinted a little- but she otherwise didn’t seem to care all that much. She didn’t bite his hand off, or smack him with the paws that were easily larger than the size of his head- but she also didn’t lean into his touch the same way she had with Scar, and the sound of her purring was just a little quieter than it was before.

“She likes you.” Scar assured him under his breath.

Then, Jellie pushed against him, and it took a minute for him to see that she was trying to push past him. Knowing that Scar likely didn’t mind her coming in, Mumbo moved to the side, and let her pass.

But Jellie didn’t stop after she was inside, walking in easily despite her size. Her pace picked up a little, and suddenly, she was quickly padding over to the other side of the room- and it was only then that Mumbo realized where Grian’s been throughout the whole interaction.

He was standing a fair distance away, arms crossed over his chest, and watching the whole scene unfold. When Mumbo turned around, and Jellie rushed past him, Grian’s eyebrows shot up, suddenly. And there was nothing that anybody could do to avoid Jellie running into him, and knocking him over.

“Scar-!” And, as he said it, his voice cracked- and he swore that Grian forgot to pitch it for a second. Mumbo honestly thought that the giant cat was going to defy his expectations and maul Grian to death now that he was down. She certainly had the opportunity to do so- but all Jellie was doing was smelling him, and purring so loudly that Mumbo swore he could feel it buzzing in his bones, and throughout his body.

“Jellie-” Scar scolded her, and he quickly rushed over to be by her side. His arms wrapped around her head, and he tried to pull her away- but then, as Grian found his footing and tried to leave, Jellie bounded forward, and dragged Scar along with her. “Jellie!”

From where Mumbo was standing, he could see the look on Jellie’s face- pulled back, from Scar trying to keep her still, but unaffected in her pursuit- and he huffed a little.

Then Grian turned around, as if he heard it, and he immediately ran in Mumbo’s direction. Before he could react, Grian hid behind him and used Mumbo as a human shield- as if the 6’5” stick of a man could fight against something that was supposedly as big and strong as a bear.

But, it seemed, the giant cat gave up on the pursuit as quickly as she had started it.

“I’m so sorry!” Scar was saying, watching Jellie suddenly flop onto her side, and almost taking him down with her. As Scar backed up, Jellie brought her paw up to her face, and began to groom herself- as if she didn’t just harass someone seconds before then. As if she completely lost interest. Scar sighed deeply, “I didn't think this would happen- she’s not usually so friendly with strangers.”

“I’d hardly call that friendly.” Grian was quick to snap, and Mumbo could see the telltale sight of the feathers around Grian’s ears puffing outward, along with some of his hair raising.

“G.” Mumbo whispered harshly. And, quickly, the feathers were back down before Scar could see them. But that didn't do anything to diminish the tense look on Grian’s face.

Scar’s smile was slightly strained when he turned back around.

“I’m sorry if she woke you up."

Mumbo waved his hand, "Excuse my lady- she's just a little… overwhelmed, with what's been going on." He said, lamely.

"Of course. Excuse me… I'll deal with this."

Scar clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and started walking towards his room. Jellie immediately rushed to follow him. The two of them watched until the cat finally disappeared into the hallway- and, when they were sure that he was out of earshot, they turned to look at each other. Grian’s expression was a little more intense than Mumbo’s. And, despite himself, Mumbo cracked a smile.

“It’s not funny,” Grian said, voice dropped.

"I never said it was."

"Yeah, but you have that look in your eye-"

"What look?"

"Whatever." He turned, slightly, to face away from the hallway they disappeared into, and his voice dropped lower, "Did you see anything like that on your… walk?"

"No. I- honestly didn't even think that there were any big animals like that on his property. I would've been more cautious if I knew."

"Yet another obstacle."

Mumbo's lip quirked up. "Is that a no for inheriting the manor, then?"

Something changed in Grian’s expression. Something subtle, shifting so quickly that it would've been easy for anyone else to miss it. But, before Mumbo could comment on it, it was gone, and it was quickly replaced with a strained grin. "I'll just- let them out! Animals like that don't deserve to be cooped up. They'd benefit from being free."

"They could attack people in the town below the mountain."

"It wouldn't be my problem, then, would it?”

“What if they came back?”

“We can just lock the gate."

“And if they climb the wall?” 

Grian went pale. “Don’t even say that. They can't do that, the whole thing is made out of stone."

Mumbo paused.

"What about the trees surrounding the property?"

"They're too thin at the top for any human to safely climb up to," He said, subtly, "Much less one of those… cat pandas."

“Did you want to see the other cat pandas?" Scar's voice asked from behind them.

Grian and Mumbo turned back around at the sound, breaths hitching in their throats at the same time. Neither of them had even heard him coming.

Scar was standing at the end of the hall- and while he didn't dress up much, he was now wearing a long, dark coat over his sleeping clothes. His hair was properly tied up in a bun, with every strand accounted for- and it was only in looking down, and seeing the lantern in his hands that he realized something. Scar was wearing gloves. He'd been wearing them this whole time- the same gloves he wore on his wedding day, and Mumbo wondered if he fell asleep with them on, or if he took a few seconds in his rush to put them on again. (The latter, he realized, was less likely, seeing that the elf was quick to intervene- but, at the same time, why would he wear them to sleep?)

Grian wasn't wearing his gloves, but his talons were still too dull to notice anything off about them. He wouldn't have to wear gloves for a long while, now- and by the time he would, they'd likely already be gone.

Mumbo smiled politely, “We’d love to see them.” He felt Grian’s hands wrapping around his arm and tugging at it, but when he looked down, he saw that Grian was also trying to look agreeable and polite.

Scar grinned and gestured towards the door with his lantern. As soon as his back was turned, Grian huffed, and immediately let go. When Scar stepped out of the door, and started walking towards the woods, Grian lagged behind.

“Why?” He whispered.

“I didn’t see them when I was walking around.” He said, just as quietly, “Maybe we’ll find a new spot we can kill him in-”

“Are you coming?” Scar’s voice called out to them, loudly, and Mumbo started pulling Grian along.

-

The cat panda enclosure was the same place that Mumbo had accidentally stumbled upon when he was trying to get a better look around the property. It was the wooden, spiked area that he saw Scar leaving from- but this time, he noticed the front gate leading inside was cracked wide open. 

Their walk through the woods to get there was, thankfully, nicer with two people at his side- but it was still horribly silent the entire way there. While Scar was calm in leading the way, Grian was tense at his side the whole time- as if he was just waiting for them to come across one of those giant cats running around on their own.

And now, they stood in front of the gates of the enclosure. And without much hesitation, Scar stepped inside with Grian and Mumbo following just behind him. The inside of the enclosure was a lot bigger than he expected it to be, and a lot more full of life. There was bamboo around every corner, tall grass, steady inclines- and Mumbo could see the sight of two lumps curled up next to the wall that was furthest from the exit. 

With their only source of light in his hand, Scar walked off the set path to start pushing through the tall grass, and towards the sleeping cat pandas. Slowly- hesitantly, in Grian's case- the two of them followed behind him, but kept their distance the entire way, and stopped just at the end of the path. Grian didn't even touch the grass- seeing as it reached up to his thighs, and close to his waist- and seeing Scar having to wade through it despite his height was a strong deterrent when these cats could likely sprint through it.

Scar easily waltzed up to one of the other cat pandas- to one that was gray, but with white patches of fur, sleeping next to one with a full coat of brown fur- and he seemed to coo at it while he started to pet it. The cat panda, sleepy but loving, was more than happy at the attention, and leaned its head into Scar's hand. The other one lifted its head up curiously, but it didn’t leave from where it was sitting.

“Is that all of them?” Grian asked, raising his voice a bit louder than he needed to.

“Yeah!” Scar reported happily. “Do you want to come say hi?”

Neither of them moved a muscle, as if they could somehow remain unseen. One of the cats did look over at them curiously, but the gaze didn’t stick long before it was back on Scar. 

"Do they eat- meat?" 

"They're omnivores! So they like chewing on the bamboo around here." As he spoke, he heavily scratched the spot behind their ears. Grian's sigh of relief was visible but quiet. "But sometimes, I'll throw an animal in here as a treat. They are excellent hunters."

For some odd reason, the first thing that came to mind was Scar putting a person in there. Though he probably meant something like a cow, or pig- or something else that was being raised in his little farm area- Mumbo imagined himself in that sort of scenario, for a moment. The fence gate slamming shut in his face, turning around slowly, just to find that he was being eyed by three giant cats that were hiding in the tall grass, and just seconds away from pouncing. 

The cat pandas could probably take his head off his shoulders in one clean bite, if they really wanted to- and Mumbo didn't have the strength or speed to get out of a fight with one. At the same time, he wondered if those cats would be an effective way to dispose of a body. He tried shooting Grian a look- a quiet suggestion- but when he looked over, he saw that Grian had gone almost completely still, and looked seconds away from puking all over their shoes.

When he noticed Mumbo looking over, he quietly shuffled to stand closer to him, and even stood behind him. (But, whether this was a way for Grian to silently ask for protection- as if he could do anything to fight off those giant cats- or if this was just a way to ensure that Mumbo would be eaten first, if anything were to happen… he wasn't so sure.)

But the cats remained unbothered, and uncaring of the extra company. Grian snaked his hand around Mumbo's arm, and lightly tugged on it. 

As Scar stood up and walked back towards the gate, the two of them slowly trailed behind him. Grian continued to keep his distance, and kept Mumbo back with him.

"We're locking our door." Grian said under his breath, eyes still stuck on the cats, even as they were leaving. “If Jellie is sleeping in the manor tonight.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about her trying to open our door.”

“I’m not risking it.”

Mumbo hummed in agreement anyway. It was weird to think that they hadn't been locking it up until that point, considering the type of scene the servants could walk in on- but at the same time, Mumbo was confident he'd wake up if their door was being opened, so it was never anything he worried about.

(He'd definitely wake up if that giant cat tried clawing down their door in the middle of the night. Mumbo wasn't so sure why Grian thought locking it would do anything, since her paws were too big to get a good grip on the door handle- and the risk was her knocking the door down, and not trying to open it the normal way- but he wasn't about to say anything, just so he could avoid having to barricade the front door to keep Grian from feeling anxious about it.)

"Is Jellie the favorite, then?" Mumbo asked, just loud enough for Scar to hear.

"Oh- I couldn’t choose between them!" He said, but his tone completely suggested otherwise, edging somewhere close to a laugh. He kept the gate open until the two of them walked through, and walked ahead of them as they set off toward the manor again. "She's so spoiled, though. She's the only one out of the three of them that'll leave her enclosure when she's not supposed to."

"Do you regularly let them out?" Grian was quick to ask. And, though his tone was pitched, it lacked any of the usual boisterous tones that he'd try to slip in whenever he was speaking as Ariana. 

From an outsider's point of view, it was easy to think that he was being gravely serious. And, clearly, it'd worked. Scar turned to look back at them- the lantern pulled up to his face, slightly, just enough to illuminate it- and, for a moment, his expression was pulled into a curious frown. When neither of them said anything, he turned back around to continue his walk. "Not regularly- it's a pain to get them back in, once they're out."

"But you do?"

"Sometimes. They’ll need to stretch their legs, and my property is more than big enough for them to roam around in.” He waved his hand, “They’re basically harmless, though! They haven’t attacked anyone-”

“Yet.” Grian tried to say quietly. But, judging by Scar’s small laugh, he guessed that he wasn’t as quiet as he tried to be.

“They’re nice! I promise.” Then, they continued their walk to the manor.

And it’s only on the way back when Mumbo realized that Scar had been holding the lantern the entire time. And, even if they’d been addressing each other casually, and nobody really seemed to care otherwise, Mumbo was still technically on duty as Ariana’s servant.

So he picked up the pace a little, and brought Grian along with him. The plan was, initially, to take the lantern from Scar, bring him and Grian together, and light their path as they walked back to the manor- just to give the two of them a moment, while he stayed out of it. But the minute he reached out towards the lantern, Scar ripped his hand away, and backed away from him. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was staring at Mumbo cautiously- as if he was waiting for him to do something.

Mumbo tripped up on his words as he said, “I was… going to hold it for you.”

“I got it.” Scar responded, stiffly.

The three of them had been walking in silence, for most of the trip- but, after that little moment, the silence felt a lot more suffocating. Even as it passed, and they continued- Mumbo couldn’t shake off the feeling that he did something wrong, and in waiting for Scar to say something about it, the walk back was tense.

Scar didn’t have anything else to say about it. The three split off when they finally reached the manor, and went back to their rooms to get as much sleep as they could.

-

It wasn't easy, though.

Mumbo tended to fall asleep after Grian. But, after their encounter with the cats, Grian was cautious. And though he was still, and did his best not to disturb him- there was tension lining every inch of his body, and Mumbo knew that it wasn’t a coincidence that his head was angled to look at the door.

Mumbo tried to be comforting, and he tried putting his hand on Grian’s shoulder to help him feel better- but it felt like hours had passed before either of them were relaxed long enough to fall asleep again.

-

When Mumbo opened the door later that same morning- expecting food trays, just like how it’s always been- Grian watched him straighten up a little at the sight of who was on the other side.

"Scar!" Mumbo’s head tilted just slightly, as if he was going to look over at Grian, but he quickly aborted the motion, and kept his eyes on Scar.

Immediately, Grian jumped into action. He threw his legs over the bed, put on the veil as he stood up, and came around the door just in time to poke his head out, and act as if he’s looked like that the whole time.

"Hello." The elf smiled brightly, upon seeing the both of them. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not- is there something you need?"

He held up his own tray of food. "Do you mind if I join you both?"

“...of course, come in!”

Mumbo thought quickly, and Grian moved quickly alongside him. He led Scar over to the rug in the room, and gestured for him to lay the trays down on it. Grian sat next to the edge of the rug- legs tucked under himself, and waiting for a tray to be set down in front of him. (And, eventually, it was.)

Then, Mumbo sat down in a similar way, and set his own tray in front of himself, and the two of them waited before Scar followed their lead.

"Do you… usually eat on the floor?" He asked uncomfortably, but he still went along with it.

They usually ate on the bed. And, if Scar was a part of their little trio, he’d probably lead him to sit up there as well. But because Grian had the feeling that Scar wouldn't appreciate that as an answer, he said, "The desk isn't big enough for us to eat on it comfortably."

Scar seemed to be a little out of his element. And while Grian would usually hunch over his tray and dig in by now, having Scar sitting there- back straight, and head tilted upward, as if he wasn't already the tallest of the three of them- was intimidating. He found himself subconsciously mirroring him, back straight and hands clasped neatly on his lap. Waiting, alongside Scar, for someone else to take the first bite, and break this weird moment of silence that they were all currently stewing in.

Mumbo was the first to break it. He was sitting on his legs, just like the rest of them were- but unlike the many other times they've been eating together, he took the squared cloth folded neatly in the corner of the tray, and set it so that it draped over his knees. Then, when he picked up his fork, and started to eat, Grian immediately followed his lead- wanting to look just as dignified and neat as he was supposed to be, as a princess, keeping his chin up, and his movements swift.

The fork felt awkward in Grian's hand as he tried to position in a way that looked… professional, and polite. But if anyone noticed it shaking, nobody commented on it. Instead, Scar similarly followed their lead, and began to eat as well. And it wasn't until he was mostly done before he began to speak.

"I figured, since we're married, we could spend some more time trying to get to know each other." He said, quietly, "I know I haven't been as… active as I should've been in helping you get settled in."

"It's no trouble at all." Grian was quick to assure him.

"We don't mind if you're busy."

Scar frowned. Then, it seemed like he was starting to pick at his food a little- tapping sausages with his fork, but never stabbing it through, or eating it. His eyes were trained on his plate, but he continued.

"What have you two been doing while I've been busy? I hope it’s not too boring around here."

Grian and Mumbo shared a look before Mumbo said, "We like to go on walks, sometimes." 

Getting as close as they can around the wall before a servant spotted them- which usually happened in a matter of minutes whenever they stepped out of their rooms. The only reason they didn't try leaving their rooms at night again was to alleviate any suspicions- getting caught once was bad enough, but twice? Three times? Those servants would no doubt get antsy, with them walking around the property without being watched constantly.

(After running into Scar that one night, it seemed like the security increased tenfold, as well. He heard footsteps moving past their room at odd hours of the night- and they couldn't get too far out of their rooms before a servant spotted them, and trailed them from a short distance. He didn't know if they were made aware of his little escapade, but they acted like they knew- and, until the security let up, Grian couldn't think of the perfect moment to make their move.

Let's see how this plays out, Grian had said- and, maybe, it was the most reasonable request he's had to fulfill on this entire mission. They could afford to wait a little while longer. This sort of thing didn't need to be rushed.)

"Walks around the property?" Scar asked, and they both nodded along. At that, he smiled, "I hope my garden isn't an eyesore. I take great pride in my agricultural work, and I want them to be enjoyed."

"It's very beautiful." Mumbo said.

"A lovely place to have a wedding at." Grian agreed, eagerly. 

"What else?"

Some days- when they peeked their heads in, and made sure that nobody else was in there- they'd head down to the manor's library. Grian made sure to keep his gloves on as he carefully handled the books- but every time he picked one up that he couldn't understand, it always took him a few seconds too long to realize that it was in another language entirely.

There were, thankfully, books that were written in Common. And when those rare books were found, they would read them. Sometimes, it was Grian and Mumbo reading together to brush up on Grian's skills- and, sometimes, it was Mumbo reading to Grian- resting his head on his shoulder, and trying to follow along as best as he can. An old tradition that, at times, made Grian's heart swell upon remembering. Something he missed in their travels, when everything was too chaotic for them to just sit down, and enjoy having a little free time. 

Sometimes, when they weren't busy, they practiced keeping up his disguise- reminiscent of the days leading up to the first day they spent there. Though it would be mostly smooth sailing from there, and though they also had to sell the fact that Ariana's been traveling, she was still special at one point. She still had to learn how to act like a proper lady when she was younger- and though Grian didn't have as much time as she would've, Mumbo still tried his best to hammer in those points.

Grian could sit up straight, and appear in such a way that he looked untouchable. (He’d been doing it since Scar entered their room- and judging by the way Mumbo left it alone, he guessed that he was doing a good job, too.) He knew how to eat properly- though he usually always neglected to use utensils whenever he wasn't being taught anything (and the weight of actually using them was a little nerve-wracking, in front of someone that's had to eat like that his entire life). He could eat in small bites, drink without slurping-

And, so long as Scar never looked too closely, he'd be fine.

(There was one thing Mumbo would do, during these training sessions- asking Grian to try and balance a book on his head, while asking him random questions about Ariana. Something about multitasking, and making sure that he'd focus on the questions being presented to him.

"I can do a handstand, if you want-" He said at one point, when he felt like everything was moving too slowly for his liking.

"Please don't do a handstand-" But as he said it, Grian was already leaning over, and doing a handstand- asking Mumbo to put a book on his feet while he asked questions.

And even though he didn’t make him hold a book, Mumbo did get closer- hands held out, as if he was prepared to catch him before he fell. He continued to ask him questions.

What was Ariana's favorite food? Salmon, or any sort of seafood that was marinated in a certain way that was difficult to replicate without having a million different spices at her disposal. Anything that bursted with a lot of flavor, even if it was overwhelming. What would she have on the road that could replicate that? Probably just normal salmon- 

"Or-" Grian's balance wavered, slightly, and Mumbo kept his hands up, and watched it all intently. Watched him intently. "Maybe the spices were to drown out the flavor of the original food. Maybe she doesn't even like seafood."

"Fun." Mumbo said, lightly, "But you like fish. So, maybe, we can workshop this."

Mumbo started to walk around a little- keeping an eye on Grian, while moving around him.

"I like it raw. And fresh."

"There's a market for that."

"Not when you don't have a lot of money, and when you're traveling."

"We catch our fish. Why can't she do the same?"  

Grian grunted, "She could never catch a fish to save her life-"

Grian's arm bent. But before he could get sent toppling over Mumbo, Grian shifted his weight, and landed on his feet, still curled over on the ground as he landed. He was lightheaded as he readjusted his balance, and he kept still as he waited for the feeling to subside.

When he looked up, Mumbo was smiling down at him. Breathing a little heavily, Grian gave him a smile back.

"Back to the book?" He asked. And, at the suggestion, Grian groaned.)

Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, they'd take advantage of the fact that they had a fireplace in their room, or take advantage of the fact that they had a bath with hot water whenever they wanted it. 

Even if Grian didn't wash his hair every single day, he still scrubbed his skin, and constantly stayed in the water long enough to make the tips of his fingers go all wrinkly. Sometimes, he’d even pick at some small, idle feathers lingering in uncomfortable spots.

(And, after a while, he'd only go in there whenever Mumbo was busy- taking a nap, or otherwise- just so he could stay in there as long as he wanted to.)

All in all…

It wasn't so bad. 

When the two of them knew how to pass the time, it felt less like passing time, and more so like they were just enjoying a long needed vacation. A peek into how their lives were going to be, after all of this was said and done. But at the same time, he knew that it could be better.

So instead of regaling Scar with the details of their stay, he sighed a little.

"...not much." Grian looked at Mumbo, and tried his best to look sad. "Your servants said there were a lot of areas that are sectioned off, so we've been making do with what we have access to."

"Oh- sectioned off to visitors." Scar corrected, "You two are allowed to go anywhere you please, since you'll be living here- the servants following you around are just there to make sure that you don't get lost." He nodded towards Mumbo, keeping eye contact with him as he spoke, and the man in question shifted uncomfortably, "I know that your servant has already found some of those private sections."

Grian had, briefly, been told about what happened on their wedding night- with Mumbo splitting off to eat somewhere in private, getting caught by Scar, and then later being caught by his brother. And while he was out there, neither of the brothers seemed to be too peeved about him wandering off. Scar was just more confused to find him there, and Cub seemed to be more confused over finding them alone.

"It's more just the servants that are worried about us." He was told, and Grian got a little huffy at the thought.

"Well, I have a fantastic memory. And if I got a proper tour of the land, and the manor, I wouldn't need so many servants following me around."

"You two got a tour, didn't you?"

"We only got a tour of your property." Mumbo said, and Grian nodded. "And, even then, it was very… short."

"Your servants don't seem to like us wandering around too much."

That was, quite possibly, the understatement of the century. During their first few days there, Mumbo was advised to carry his own weight, and live similarly to how the rest of the servants would- but after a while, it seemed like they completely changed their minds. 

(On the day before their wedding, just as Mumbo fully intended to take the trays to the kitchen and get a better look at the rest of the manor- neatly stacked on top of the other, and ready to be washed- he was met with a servant waiting outside their door. They took the trays from his arms with a smile and a small bow before they parted ways. And, after that, they both realized that moving around was going to be a lot harder than it was, at first.

Grian cursed the first day. The hesitation. Continuing seemed like an uphill battle, but sunken cost fallacy started to worm its way in. And, so long as they agreed that there was no real time limit, Grian could wait until the perfect moment to strike. It's lasted much longer than any of their other missions have- but nothing has gone wrong yet, and they still had that going for them.)

Scar's expression pinched, as if he were focusing on something. Then he said, "Right. Okay, I'll see to it that you get a proper tour-"

Grian leaned in a little closer, and placed his free hand on the elf's knee. "You could be the one giving us a tour." His fingers moved as he spoke, quietly tapping against Scar's leg, "If you can make that sort of time for me…"

Scar's mouth quirked into a small smile. Then, to his genuine surprise, Scar's hand came to rest over Grian's. "I would be more than happy to. We can start by bringing the trays to the kitchen."

"..what?"

-

On the walk to the kitchen- the direction to the area only vaguely described by a fellow servant, before Mumbo started getting served as well- they walked into a hallway that Mumbo didn't immediately recognize.

The house was full of them. Dozens of hallways, lined with the same color and pattern of wallpaper, and the same dark wood on every door. He knew where their door was, and where the exit was only because of muscle memory. Besides that, and the entrance to the library they met up with Scar in, they didn't know where anything else was. And despite hating having the servants around constantly… It was nice to not get lost around the manor. 

If they were actually living there, and didn't have a job to do, it would've been appreciated a whole lot more.

Scar led them through the halls. Mumbo tried his best to memorize the path- and, judging by the way Grian's eyes were scanning around the rooms, he guessed that his partner was trying to do the same thing- but everything was so disorienting. It was clear that he wouldn’t get anything memorized at first.

The kitchen was just one big, tiled room. It was mostly empty by now, save for a few servants lingering around, and standing upright and attentive once Scar entered. There were stoves lined up in the middle of the room, with the counters circling around the edges, and against one of those counters was a sink. After placing the trays next to it- immediately attended to, by one of the servants- Scar turned around, and faced them, leaning against the counter.

"We'll start our tour here. This is our kitchen- you might not be here a lot, since you can ask my servants for any kind of food you'd like-" And, upon being addressed, the servants in that room bowed towards them, "But if you like to cook, then these stoves and ovens are available to you. Speaking of which…" Scar looked over to the servants and nodded. One of them briskly walked away, and returned with a plate stacked high with cookies.

"I made these last night." He said eagerly, as he gestured for them to try it.

"You bake?" Mumbo asked, just as Grian was tucking a cookie under his veil, and taking a bite of it. When the plate was brought up close to him, Mumbo simply waved it away.

"These are the cookies from your debut party." The avian muttered.

"Good eye."

"I can taste it."

"Good- uh. Taste." He corrected gently. "I made most of the desserts for that night- I had enough free time, before I actually had to debut and all… It's just a shame most of them went untouched."

"My lady enjoyed them." Mumbo pointed out. And, just as he said that, Grian was already quietly going for a second.

"I know! It might've influenced my decision a little, I must admit." Polite laughter followed that sentence from everyone- as if it wasn't the weirdest thing to admit, outside of any rich social circles, "Let's continue- there's so many things I want to show you, and so little time to do it!"

Grian took a cookie for the road as they were being led outside the kitchen, and into another hallway. At some point during the walk, the hallway went from being empty to being lined with different paintings and tapestries.

There were some landscape paintings on the walls, but Mumbo quickly noticed that they were all mostly portraits. And, up until that point, Mumbo knew that the places they've been to in the manor had severely lacked them, despite being a home occupied by people that were obviously wealthy. 

Rich people always had portraits of themselves and their family members hanging up in their homes, from Mumbo’s experience. He couldn't tell if it came from a sense of pride- seeing multiple generations of people hanging on their walls like some kind of private art gallery, and seeing how large their family was growing- or if it just came from not wanting to throw any of them out. 

But, usually, they had a lot of portraits.

Scar’s family did not, apparently. Or, maybe, the house was just too big to set everything up in. As they walked down the halls, Scar barely gave the majority of those portraits a passing glance, while Grian and Mumbo were catching the eyes of every single person they spotted along the walls. There were portraits of singular people- mostly men, Mumbo quickly realized with a grimace, faces full of stubble, and eyes full of cold disdain. There were family portraits- mothers, posing rigidly by their children…

Everyone in the paintings was either wearing green, or blue clothes. It didn't seem to be a patterned thing, either, since some people would reappear on the walls wearing either color… but it was a little strange that those were the only two colors that would be painted. (Mumbo thought back to the wedding- to Scar's family, all wearing green, and nothing blue- but his mind felt like it hit a dead end when he tried to think about it for too long.)

Eventually, Scar slowed to a stop in front of one of the many paintings. And, as soon as Mumbo and Grian saw what they were supposed to, the two of them stopped walking as well.

The painting was of two people.

The two of them stood at each other’s side, showing off a significant height difference. The taller one stood with his hands clasped together and in sight- dressed in green, and covered by a thick, white furred cape. His brown hair was long, curled slightly, and pulled to the front. His face was neutral, but because of how close he was in the painting, Mumbo swore that it looked like the man was trying to hold back a smile.

The other man wasn’t as amused. Instead of being dressed as lavishly as the other man had been, he was almost dressed like a soldier wearing a blue uniform. And, similar to how a soldier would be, his arms were hidden behind his back, and he was standing up straight- even though it did nothing to help his height.

"This is you and your brother?"

He guessed immediately that it was Scar and Cub. A little younger, maybe- only based on the fact that Cub’s hair was longer in the portrait, and pulled into a braid that was falling in front of his left shoulder- but he couldn’t place how old they must’ve been when it was painted.

"Yes.” Scar’s chest raised as he breathed in, “I actually painted this one myself."

"I didn't know you were an artist." Grian gushed, laying the charm on as thick as possible.

Scar smiled sheepishly. 

"I actually made the tapestries hanging in your room right now- and, if you follow me into the dining room, I can show you something else that I've painted. See, I'm actually a lot more proud of this piece-"

And while Grian and Scar chatted, continuing the tour and their conversation, Mumbo slightly lagged behind. He kept his eye on the portrait of Scar and his brother. Scar was a talented painter, there was no doubt about that- and the piece sitting in front of him was stylistic, yet so lifelike that he felt like he could reach through it and shake Scar's hand- but there seemed to be a stark contrast between him and his brother that only took a moment for Mumbo to recognize. While Cub's posture in the portrait seemed to be rigid, and stiff- Scar seemed to be loose, and much more relaxed.

Though their expressions were similar, both set as neutral as possible, Scar seemed to be staring straight ahead. And, the closer Mumbo got, the more he realized that Cub wasn't looking ahead, but instead staring at his brother. His brows were furrowed, under the dark hair looping around his face-

"Mumbo?"

When he looked over, Grian had just vanished from sight- walking further into the hall. Scar must’ve taken a couple steps back when he realized that Mumbo wasn't following him anymore.

"I was just… admiring your painting."

Scar's confused expression broke for a second. Eyebrows raised, blinking in a sudden surprise- but, similarly to how Grian would express sudden emotions, it was gone as quickly as it'd come.

He cleared his throat, and stood up a little straighter. "Thank you. But, as I was telling Ariana over here… there's something else that I painted that I'm much more proud of."

He took one final glance at the painting- the ease of Scar, followed by the tension brought on by Cub- before he looked away, and continued down the hall.

He didn't have to walk much further. The hallway led to an open doorway, with splashes of green surrounding the end of it- then, as he stepped through, it was like they were led into another world entirely.

Instead of there being red, patterned wallpaper covering the walls, and matching with the walls in the rest of the manor, the entire room was just one, giant painting. It set the dining room in the middle of a forest- with trees, and all sorts of flora and fauna surrounding the edges. The colors and methods of painting used made everything vibrant, and smooth- realistic, but not completely, to the point where the environment seemed surreal. 

The colors changed- dark colors in the parts where the forest was more dense, shifting to brighter colors as the trees became more scattered. As he looked up, he noticed that the ceiling was painted blue, and that the sun was in the exact center, set in between two chandeliers.

In the far side of the room- right in between two curtained windows, and just adjacent to the longer side of the dining room table- was a painted white marble fountain. It was similar to the one in the hedge maze- plain, but beautiful- but instead of being empty, there was a woman by the fountain. One with long, curly red hair that went well past her torso, and flowed gently into the fountain. Though the place she was sitting in wasn't too far from the ground, her legs were kicked into the air, and her head was thrown back- as if she was seconds away from falling- but judging by the smile on her face, he guessed that she was laughing.

"What is she playing?" Grian asked quietly, as if trying not to disturb the stillness of the room.

"The lyre."

It was a curved string instrument that Mumbo had never seen before. But she was definitely playing it, and laughing as she did so- and, compared to all the other portraits he's seen, this one was more dynamic and fluid, and… happy. Bright colors, bright atmosphere- it almost felt like a moment happening in real time. It felt like Mumbo had gone through the woods, just to come to a clearing, and stumble upon someone like her in a private moment.

It almost, he realized, reminded him of his moment with Scar, back in the hedge maze. Only if the roles were swapped- and if in his desperate attempt to get away from the crowd, Mumbo accidentally stumbled upon Scar by the fountain. (Or maybe, more realistically, he was supposed to be the one by the fountain. But, instead of being carefree, and laughing- he was found zoning out. Having a private moment. Then, sharing that moment with someone else.)

"And you painted all of this?" Mumbo clarified. Scar's nod, in turn, was prideful.

"I have my works scattered all across my home- but it's usually not where guests can see them."

"They're too valuable for that?" Grian guessed, to which Scar shook his head.

"I'm improving my skills. I want to paint a scene like this in the ballroom- something nice and scenic…” Mumbo imagined that first night again. But instead of walking into a pristine white and golden room, he walked into a room with a similar scene instead, something that made the room less sterile and more… natural. Suddenly, the room didn’t feel as stifling. “But that’ll take a while. And… I'm not sure what to paint in there.”

The dining room table wasn't anything to marvel at- keeping the dark red, green, and brown color scheme that was in the hallways they were just in- but Mumbo still took a second to look at them nonetheless. There were candles set up on the table, on the chandelier, and on stands on the wall. They were all lit, and flickering, even though nobody was using the dining room, and it was just empty. Magic, he guessed, even if the faint buzzing in the air could be chalked up to the constant barrier surrounding the entire property.

Then- behind one end of the table, with a chair that was much bigger than the others- there were two new portraits that contrasted with the atmosphere of the room. As soon as Mumbo spotted the frame, he noticed that Grian was already walking towards it.

"Did you paint these?"

Scar rushed to be at his side, "Oh, no- these are just family portraits."

The first painting was wide, and had three people in it. Two adults sitting down, and one child standing right in front of them- and while those two adults seemed to be at ease, the child in the center seemed to be a lot more bright and happy.

"And that's you?"

"Cub." He corrected gently. "I wasn't born yet."

He was the younger brother, then- by a good handful of years, judging by how slowly elves aged, and how old Cub must've been when it was painted. Mumbo took the painting in. They all seemed incredibly similar to each other- Mumbo could see both the parent's features in Cub's appearance. He had his father's eye shape, and his mother's dark hair, even if it was light at the time- and it was easy to look at them, and see a small, humble family.

"Why is it set up like this?" Grian asked. And, quickly, his attention moved onto the second painting. The portrait was tall and thin- depicting a small child, who was visibly pouting, and looked seconds away from crying, even as his face was painted to be still. He had his father's lighter hair, and his piercing eyes- but that was where the similarities seemed to end.

"I wasn't, uh, planned." He said- and the way he said it made it sound like an inside joke, "And, well, it's incredibly difficult to get painters up here… so the first time I got my portrait done, I was… ten years old? And… obviously not happy about it." He pointed to the portrait in question, though he looked significantly younger in the portrait. "They didn't want to redo the whole portrait, but didn't want to leave me out, so…" 

How odd, Mumbo almost said, but he kept the comment to himself. There was something strange about the placements of the painting, not to mention the nature of the painting itself- but he couldn't quite tell what it was. Little Scar didn't look like he wanted to be painted- same as any ten year old wouldn't want to be- but that expression was now immortalized into the portrait, instead of being taken out of it. And now it sat hauntingly in their dining room- staring at it and its inhabitants with clear disdain, and frustration.

Mumbo imagined such a painting, staying on that wall even after he and Grian managed to kill Scar. He saw the furrowed eyebrows, and the pouting lip- staring at him so intensely that it almost froze him to his core, and he found himself making eye contact with a painting, of all things. 

Scar continued, and the sound of his voice is what snapped Mumbo out of his train of thought, "There are portraits of all of us further into the house, but these ones are kept in the dining room because they're my parent's favorites. And, since I've learned how to paint… no need to hire anyone else to do it, right?"

"And… since we're family now…" Grian said- and it's then when Mumbo realized that he plastered himself to Scar's side without him realizing it. His arm was curled around Scar's, and his other hand came up to interlock them- as if he needed to have both hands available to hang on. He was leaning his head against his shoulder- eyes flicking from the portraits in front of them, to the side of Scar’s face.

"My parents got a painting of themselves done for their wedding ceremony. And, though it's already passed, I could always be the one to paint ours."

“We can worry about it later.” Grian assured, “Give us more of a tour, please."

-

The house was a maze.

But, they got the tour that they wished for. 

First, they got a small peek into the servant's living areas, on the second floor- the staircase leading up to it being large, and twisting, and covered with a lot more portraits and paintings that were painted long before Scar was even born.

And, upon asking, it was quickly revealed that the entire second floor belonged to all of the servants, and their families. And he noted that this was a recent change- since there were so many of them, and only one of Scar, he wanted to give them enough room.

When they looked around, some of them were openly taking a break, while the rest were running around, and trying to do their jobs. This part of the tour didn't last long, before they were quickly led onto somewhere else- though Mumbo noticed lavish furnishings in their rooms, and the way that most servants weren't deterred by Scar's presence in the slightest. 

A lot of them looked to be well-fed, too. Well taken care of. Children ran past them as they entered the room, shrieking with laughter, and immediately quieting down and running out of the room when Scar entered- and Scar didn't so much as bat an eye when they did so. As if it was normal. 

It was such a jarring sight to see that, admittedly, Mumbo felt a little dizzy after leaving. Grian had been keeping an eye on him after assessing the second floor. And, despite being plastered to Scar's side all morning, and obviously trying to keep his attention, he was quick to stay behind, and stick to Mumbo's side. Mumbo used Grian as a crutch for a bit, and Grian gently made sure that he was being held up under the guise of being toured around. And, thankfully, Scar either didn't notice their closeness, or he didn't care very much.

"Does it ever get too noisy with the children up here?" Grian asked casually.

"Not at all!" Scar said eagerly, "I know that humans can't sense it- but we have magical glyphs ingrained up here to keep the noise out. So, as long as they're quiet when they're going down the stairs, we shouldn't hear a thing." Mumbo and Grian looked at each other- a silent 'did you know that?' shared between them- before they continued their tour. (Mumbo made a note to check their room, when all of this was said and done- just in case, seeing how casually glyphs were being used.)

"Is there anything on the third floor?" Grian asked, as they walked back down the stairs.

And Scar clearly hesitated before saying, "It's been empty for years. So… not really worth a tour."

Thankfully, the rest of the tour went on without a hitch. 

Besides that, they were given some insight on a few exits. One upstairs, in case of emergencies, and a lot of exits downstairs that neither of them were aware of until Scar pointed it out. Like one in the kitchen, for servants to run in and out of when 'deliveries' were being made from out of town.

(And it didn't hit Mumbo as odd, until he wondered what kind of deliveries were being made in such a self-sustaining utopia. Then, he remembered clothes. Expensive clothes, from different parts of the world- Scar's expensive outer robe was definitely something that wasn't made on his farm. Paint, and high-quality canvases. And so many other things that Scar probably didn't need, but that definitely couldn't be grown on a farm, either. So he didn't think to mention it to Grian for that reason.

But his arm was still tugged, and he was still met with Grian's self-assured Cheshire grin. And, after a whisper of "Exit", Mumbo could understand what he was so giddy about.)

"How often do deliveries come in?" Grian asked, in a raised voice. And, at Scar's inquiring hum, he elaborated, "I'm curious. I haven't seen anything like that since I've been staying here."

It's been a couple weeks now, and they were just making some semblance of progress.

"Oh- it's rare. It depends on what's coming in, too. I'll get gifts from all corners of the world- and, sometimes, it can take months for something to arrive."

"What kind of gifts?" Grian steered, "Is it from any personal friends?"

And, at that, Scar laughed. "No- it's mostly just for my family. Cub." Then, he lagged behind a little to walk right beside them, and Mumbo slightly detached himself from Grian- making it so that he could easily fall back, and let the two of them be. "Speaking of which- my family…"

Grian blinked a few times. A hand came up to his veil, and Mumbo watched his expression change in front of his eyes. "Oh- we're supposed to be having dinner with them tonight, aren't we?"

"You can always back out, if you want to." He said, lightly, "I know you and your guard haven't been using the dining room, at all. And if you're not fully settled in, then there's no reason to force it… but they've been really excited to properly meet you, and they insisted on it being tonight…"

"Of course we'll be there! I just got used to eating in my room, is all-" Then, suddenly, Mumbo was tugged forward, and he grunted in surprise, "But I do have one condition- I want him to be there with me."

Scar blinked in surprise. "Of course! I wouldn't expect anything else." Then, he turned away from them, “And- well, you’ve briefly met her already- but just as a warning, my mom’s a bit much. And she’s very interested in your… escapades.” Grian breathed in sharply, and he continued, “And she will definitely be asking about it- but I’ll make sure that she isn’t being too invasive, or anything.”

“I’m used to being asked questions- I’m sure it won’t be that bad."

"She'll… find a way to make it uncomfortable." His laugh sounded comedically painful, "You know how parents are." Then, quietly, he added, "Oh, of all people, you'd definitely know."

"Hm?" Grian prompted.

"Let's continue with the tour."

-

It was hot outside.

Grian was picking at the collar of his dress, and fanning out the veil by his face. Though Mumbo was trying to keep himself from moving too much, he found himself becoming similarly miserable because of the weather.

After disappearing into his room, Scar came out of it with a large leather bag, and a quick change of clothes- replacing his robes with an outfit similar to the one he wore when he first approached them at his debut party. He led the two of them outside with the promise of showing them something nice. But now, several minutes into their walk, Mumbo sort of regretted agreeing to it, and he could tell that Grian was feeling a similar way- even if he wasn't voicing any of his complaints.

He recognized the path they were going towards well enough- quickly crossing into the small patch of woods, and continuing- but it wasn't until they reached the bridge again before Mumbo realized what was happening.

"We've already passed this- twice, now-" Scar was saying eagerly, and looking far too pleased over having to walk around in this sort of weather, "But I wanted to show you what it looked like during the day." 

There was a gazebo near the river that Mumbo noticed after his first day. And after they crossed the bridge, he guessed that it was where they were headed towards.

Scar quickly brushed off the seats. Then, he pulled one out, and gestured for Grian to sit down in one of them. Mumbo noticed with a stifled laugh that Grian seemed to collapse into it, trying his best to maintain the straight posture while subtly trying to lean back into the seat at the same time.

As Mumbo sat down in the empty seat next to Grian, Scar sat in the one beside his, just off to the side. He slapped his bag onto the table, and quickly rummaged through it.

"I made sandwiches."

Three, to be exact. One for all of them.

"...When did you get the time to make these?" Mumbo asked, as Scar passed each of them out.

"Oh- I… didn't sleep very well last night, after Jellie woke me up, so… I had some free time on my hands. I was already going to invite you both to eat out here- but then we got wrapped up in the tour…" He sighed, and rubbed his hands together, "I digress- let's take a break. Relax a little. Have some lunch."

The three of them lapsed into silence as they ate. Even though Scar was noticeably brimming with energy, the rest of them were tired, and he seemed to understand that, and stayed quiet. But before Scar was even finished with it, he wrapped the sandwich back up in the paper it'd been previously wrapped up in, and he dug through his bag again.

Scar pulled out a sketchpad. Out of the corner of Mumbo's eye, Grian's head perked up.

"Can I ask-" Despite the heat exhaustion, Grian sounded completely fine as he spoke, "How do you paint- without having someone there to constantly pose for you?"

Scar's face lit up, "I have to get a reference, usually- and then I'll have to get creative." Then, slowly, he turned the pages over, "I could show you, if you'd like? We'll have to get our portrait done eventually, won't we- I'd be happy to get most of it done sooner, rather than later."

Grian nodded quickly. Mumbo shifted uncomfortably, "And- how accurate are these references?"

"Well, I guess it depends on how long she'll pose for. I don't think we'll get something incredible, on here-" As he spoke, Grian moved to pull down his veil, and Mumbo shot him a glare, and subtly shook his head. Grian pulled at it, but eventually relented, and kept it on- but it was past his nose, while it still covered his mouth, "But it'll be enough. And, if I ever need anything later, I can always just ask for it."

Grian brushed off his dress, and stood up a little straighter. Scar's expression started out pretty relaxed as he started sketching out basic proportions. It felt like something practiced, looking up at Grian and him instead of the paper.

"We should come out here more often," Grian threw out.

"The property is very beautiful, Scar." And it really was- behind them, the manor was hidden mostly behind trees, and while it did peek out here and there, it almost felt like they were in a different place entirely. Scar quirked his lips up, as if to imitate an appreciative smile. 

Then they lapsed into silence again. Mumbo stood silently and mostly still, although under the table his thumbs moved to tap against each other, and Grian's leg was occasionally bumping into his, almost purposefully, as if he was making a game out of who moved first. Scar's eyebrows furrowed, concentrating on the details, it seemed, staring Mumbo intently in the eyes. With the intense expression, Mumbo almost thought Scar was mad at him- and when Mumbo's eyes flickered down, he saw that Scar's pencil was off the sketchbook. Scar himself looked down, gentle strokes contrasting his more and more deepening frown. 

Grian looked the same when he was concentrating- like he was personally wronged.

Mumbo knew exactly where Scar was looking at by the way Grian was acting. First it was the eyes- Grian blinking rapidly for a moment, before calming down and trying to lower his eyelids from something blown-wide to something a lot more relaxed and demure. It felt like Grian had been drawn a thousand times, with his ease to sit still, and a clear idea of what he wanted to look like on paper. 

Scar, as he was presumably drawing Grian's eyes, relaxed his eyebrows and lifted his eyelids slightly, cutting his long, slitted pupils in half. Grian and Scar were having somewhat of a staredown, and for a moment, neither of them were blinking, and Scar's pencil halted.

Then, he smiled, though his eyes weren't crinkled by it, and they remained half-lidded. "You're doing really well," Scar told him, mostly directed at Grian. His voice was low, like he didn't want to attack the silence with anything louder.

Grian picked up on it, and spoke quietly as well. It was harder with the sharp and bright voice to copy the tone without straight up whispering, but Grian didn't seem to struggle. "I'd hope so. Can we see how far you got?"

"No." Scar's eyes finally moved out of his stasis, lifting a bit at the corners. "I don't show works in progress."

"Oh." Grian sounded like he wanted to rip the sketchpad out of Scar's hands. Before he could do anything like that (thankfully) Scar continued on with his face. His lips turned white, and then red from pressing them together, and after thinking it over, his smile fell into a neutral line. 

Mumbo noted the pretty liberal strokes Scar was dishing out, almost uncaringly leading the lines to the edges of the paper. It was only a sketch though, after all.

"You have a nice face," Scar said. It was obviously addressing Grian, even if he was staring at the paper, fiddling with a few details. "It's very symmetrical. I don't see that often." Then, his eyes flickered up. "It's almost unnatural."

Grian giggled quietly. "That’s the strangest compliment I've gotten."

Scar raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. He put the sketchpad facedown for a moment, leaning over the table to vaguely point at Grian. "Look, Mumbo." He held a hand down Grian's two sides, like trying to half them. "Eyes in a perfectly straight line- no eyelid heavier than the other." His finger was lightly tracing the imaginary line from one eye to the other. "The nose is perfect-" As Scar was pointing it all out, Grian didn't move an inch, happily letting Scar tell him all the ways he was better-looking than anyone else in this gazebo. But of course, that wasn't enough.

Mumbo turned to Scar, lightly clearing his throat. "And having a symmetrical face is good?"

Scar tilted his head for a moment, looking intently at Mumbo. After some sort of evaluation, he grinned, bringing his hand forward again.

Before Mumbo could realize what was happening, Scar held him by his chin and turned his head towards Grian. Mumbo had half the mind to not protest, eyes nervously flickering from Scar to Grian.

"Mumbo's nose has a bump, right here." He tapped against it, and Mumbo's eyelids twitched. Scar's finger moved along the curve of his nose, up to his eyebrow. "And this eyebrow is sitting much heavier over this eye than the other one."

Grian hummed along with what he was saying. He also reached forward, hands following the same path Scar took. With four hands on his face, Mumbo felt a bit cornered. He backed off an inch, the action purely instinctual, and after a moment, all the hands were gone.

"I never noticed that." Grian and Scar were both staring at Mumbo, and he averted his eyes to his hands, nervously scratching at his knee. 

"So his face isn't symmetrical, but that doesn't make him look bad." Scar finally continued. "In fact, having little imperfections make someone look a lot friendlier, usually. Of course, Mumbo is tall, for a human, and has this really scary mustache," Scar sounded like he needed to laugh as he said it, "But sometimes, something that is too perfect can seem just a little…" He looked back at Grian, who was staring back head-on. "Intimidating."

“Really?”

Scar paused. Then, his eyebrows furrowed, and he turned the page over.

"Part of the reference isn't just getting the face down. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get a pose drawn, as well- could you do me a favor, and stand next to her?"

Hesitantly, Mumbo did so.

They spent the next few moments adjusting their poses- keeping Mumbo behind, and then next to Grian, all while he sat there, and tried to keep himself as still as possible on the chair. At some point, he asked the two of them to back away from the table, just so he could get a better view of what they'd look like- all before he finally started to draw again.

This time, Scar was a lot quicker. The drawing wasn't as detailed, judging by how fast and exaggerated his hand movements were- but there was also something different with how he was drawing. He looked frustrated, brows pulled together as he mostly focused on the drawing, rather than the subjects he was supposed to be drawing the poses of.

Then there was the sound of a scratch- one much louder than the scratching of pencil against paper, almost sounding like a rip. And, suddenly, his face dropped.

Then his sketchpad fell onto the table. 

Mumbo tried to lean over to get a look at what Scar had been drawing, but then he closed it just as quickly, and tucked it away in his bag.

"It's- hot today, isn't it?" Scar asked. And, upon closer inspection, he noticed that he was sweating a little, and loosening up the collar around his neck.

"Just a little."

The elf hummed disapprovingly.

"Can either of you swim?"

-

Mumbo honestly didn't think the river running beside the gazebo was one he could swim in. He remembered seeing it for the first time, and worrying about what could happen if he accidentally fell in-

But then he watched Scar. Scar, tying up his hair, peeling off his gloves, shucking off his vest, and rolling up the ends of his sleeves and pants- but instead of wading through the water like Mumbo thought he would, Scar jumped into it, and immediately submerged himself. But before Mumbo could wonder about whether or not he slipped, his head broke the water again with a quiet gasp, and he stared at the two of them expectantly.

After he checked to make sure that Grian was okay with him jumping in, the avian clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and simply shoved him toward the river. As Mumbo kicked off his shoes, and his socks, and made quick work of his outer layers, Grian stayed at the edge of the river. Dipping his feet into the water, and using a thin blanket that Scar brought with them to keep his dress from being stained with grass, mud, or any of the dry dirt that caked onto some of the bigger rocks near the edge of the river. He was lazily kicking his feet, and paying no sort of attention to them- or, maybe, just looking like he wasn't paying any attention to them.

Mumbo knew very well that Grian didn't know how to swim. Despite being someone that prided himself on having basic survival knowledge, including knowing how to fish- Grian also let him know that he avoided water that went any deeper than waist-height. (Which, for Grian, wasn't very deep at all- but if Mumbo ever pointed that sort of thing out, he'd get an earful for it.)

Mumbo didn't know why he never learned how to swim- but in the coastal town they grew up in, where one of the only swimmable areas was a beach and a private lake near his employer's property, it was understandable why he never got the chance to. Mumbo only learned how to swim to satisfy his employers, and to be able to keep an eye on any young kids that may be visiting, and may want to wander close to that lake. 

Mumbo had faint memories of learning- water going up his nose, wildly flapping his arms, with nobody around him wanting to help, and insisting that it was the best way to learn.

And as the years passed- though they've been friends for a very, very long time- Mumbo never thought to put Grian through something like that, and they just… never went through the trouble of it. And, even if they did teach him how somewhere in those many years, it wouldn't have helped him, in this case. Grian would still have to suffer through wearing a dress with long sleeves and a high collar. 

So Mumbo copied Scar. He set his outer clothes down by Grian, rolled up his sleeves and pant legs, and he set to slowly submerge himself in the water.

The current was there, but it wasn’t as strong as he thought it’d be, so he didn’t make any strong efforts to keep himself in the same spot. He dunked his head underwater. The top of his head had been burning up without him even realizing it due to his dark hair, and the cool water brushing against it was an immediate relief. 

He stayed underwater for a few seconds, enjoying the sound of it quietly rushing past his ears before he was starting to run out of air.

When he broke the surface- crouching a little, with the water reaching up to his neck and shoulder blades- he took a look around. Grian was still sitting at the edge. He was looking at him, but his eyes moved away seconds later, as if he didn't want to get caught staring- looking at something behind him, before looking down at the water near his feet.

With a confused furrow to his brow, Mumbo turned around.

Scar was behind him, and looking at him curiously- head just barely poking out of the water. As soon they made eye contact, his head tilted to the side.

“You do have a nice face.” He held up his hand, and Mumbo watched the way the river moved around it- rushing, suddenly, to break the intrusion.

Mumbo's head ducked down a little, water starting to lap at his chin. "Even though it's asymmetrical?" He repeated dryly.

"I'd love to paint you sometime."

"Oh- that's alright. I don't want to be in any paintings." He nodded towards Grian, who looked like he was tuned out of the conversation- but Mumbo knew better than to assume that. "She'd love it, though, I'm sure."

"I'm going to be painting her plenty of times." Scar assured him, "Being the lady of the house, and all that- but if I could have just one portrait of yours up there, that'd be nice."

Something about the comment coming from Scar wasn't what made Mumbo uneasy, nor was it the way he said it. Instead, it was the way he was looking at him- eyes darting around his face, as if he was taking in everything at once, and already trying to paint a mental picture of him. Mumbo's gaze naturally drifted down to the light circles under Scar's eyes- not deep enough to be dark, but still evidence of a restless sleep- and he frowned.

"Are you- feeling okay?"

Scar's face fell. And, immediately, he looked as tired as he must've felt.

"I might need a nap before dinner." He said with a quiet laugh. "Stress has been keeping me up, but…" Then, his gaze shifted over to where Grian was sitting, alone and unsuspecting.

I wish I hadn’t married her.

The admission made a stone quietly sink into Mumbo’s stomach. "You don't have to spend every waking moment with us, if you don't want to."

"What kind of husband would I be, if I didn't want to spend time with her?"

Mumbo's brow furrowed. And, before he could stop himself, he was talking. "I know you didn't want to- you know- but I can promise you that Ariana won't mind if you need time to yourself. We've been traveling alone for many years now- and… she's happy to just settle down, in one place." His jaw set, "And I can promise that she appreciates some alone time, too. You're not alone in that."

Scar looked at him quizzically. Then, he looked thoughtful.

"And we'll all have more than enough time to become acquainted with each other. Right?"

And, in an instant, Mumbo felt his confidence wither up. "Right." He said, his mouth suddenly running dry, even though he was surrounded by water.

Though it wasn't exactly the same, it almost felt like they were in that hedge maze again- Scar quietly admitting things to him, alone, and Mumbo saying things in return that he would never say with Grian at his side. Saying things that were genuine, and personal. They were close in the water. Too close, Mumbo thought, and even though the river was more than big enough for the two of them to move around in, it was starting to feel cramped.

Scar's face suddenly broke out into a small grin.

"Are you okay?" Scar asked, in turn.

"Yeah?"

"Your face is all… red." And, at the admission, his head sunk further, until the tip of his nose was submerged, "Do you sunburn easily-?"

"Don't go too far!" Grian called from the edge. And, in an instant, the tension broke. Mumbo quickly turned to see Grian waving at the two of them, a small yet knowing expression present on his face.

When Mumbo turned back to look at Scar, the elf had a complicated look on his face.

"I'm going to head back."

Scar hummed. And, slowly, his head sunk under the water, and he watched as his form started to swim under the surface- moving further and further away from where Grian was.

After dunking his head one last time, Mumbo swam back to Grian. And, upon pulling himself out of the water- grabbing onto the ledge, and just managing to pull himself up with his upper body strength- he was met with a weird look from Grian. One that he couldn't spot, for a change, since half of his face was hidden.

"What was that about?"

"What?"

"You two were talking about something- quietly." Mumbo rolled his eyes, tilting his head to shake water out of his ear, and Grian leaned forward, "Come on- I'm interested."

"He's trying very hard to impress you, and I'm trying to set you two up."

"Aww." Grian cooed. And then, he started to fan himself with his hand, as if he was swooning. "How valiant."

"Mhm- come here."

"Hm?"

Mumbo held his hand up. And, when Grian continued to look puzzled, he brought it up closer to the back of Grian's neck. The avian guessed what he was doing immediately, and moved a huge chunk of his hair out of the way to give him better access. He pressed his palm flat against the back of Grian's neck, tiny feathers brushing against the side of Mumbo’s hand, and Grian sighed in relief.

"Gods- why is it so hot up here?" He whispered, "It's freezing at night, but hotter than hell during the day… I thought we had an advantage, with it being close to winter."

"It is weird."

"Aren't the mountains supposed to get snowed on, first? Where's the snow, huh?" Grian took his hand away from his neck. And, before he could fully retract, he brought it up to his forehead, and face- likely flushed from the heat. "I'd much rather be inside right now. Or- walking around snow, with thick coats on. It'd be so much nicer. When it's hot, I can't take off any layers, but if it was cold, I could put on as many as I'd like."

Then, finally, he let go of his hand, and sighed.

"At least my clothes are drying." Mumbo tried, but Grian just scoffed.

Thankfully, as if listening to them, the breeze picked up. The feathers near Grian's head that were clipped down ruffled underneath his hair, so subtly that it could've been mistaken for the wind brushing through it. Mumbo guessed that it was all a much needed relief for him.

When Mumbo looked back down at the river, Scar was there, and he looked just in time to see him duck under the surface again. He watched the form move and, eventually, disappear under the bridge.

-

True to his word, Scar disappeared before the dinner, and finally gave them some room to breathe.

After spending a few moments rechecking their room for glyphs- for anything, even harmless- Grian disappeared as well. And it wasn't until much later when he realized that he'd been gone for a while- when a servant knocked on his door, to inform them that if her highness Ariana wanted to spend a long time getting ready to look nice for the family, then it'd be best to get it started soon.

At the startling realization, and after the servant was far enough away, Mumbo began his search- but it didn't take him very long to realize where Grian had gone. Just across their hall from their room was the same room that they've been using to bathe- and he knew that Grian liked to duck in there, and use it every time he had the opportunity to.

"My lady?" He asked, lightly, after he knocked on the door.

"Come in." A voice called from further in the room. Mumbo hesitated before he did so, finding the door unlocked.

"Are you decent?" He couldn't immediately see into the room- the majority of it blocked by a room divider, to avoid any awkward situations- but there was a light in there. And, distantly, Mumbo could see the sight of a crumpled pink dress thrown in the far corner of the room.

"Mm."

He made sure the door was shut and locked behind him, before he went any further.

When Mumbo walked past the room divider, he saw that Grian looked slightly miserable. Curled up in the tall wooden tub, with his mouth barely touching the line of the water, and blowing bubbles into it. His eyes seemed distant, even as Mumbo walked in, and kneeled down beside him.

"We have to get ready."

"Give me another minute... " He murmured, before he sunk further into the tub. The water wasn't soapy, like Mumbo expected it to be, and the sight made his eyes narrow.

"You're bathing, right?"

"Nope." Then, without warning, Grian flicked some of the water towards Mumbo. He was shocked by how cold it was for a moment, before Grian explained, "I didn't get to go into the river with you guys. I was sweating like crazy, out there."

"It's not that hot indoors." The manor had been insulated well- keeping the cold in when it was hot, and keeping most of the heat in when it was cold. Right now, the temperature was fairly perfect.

Grian frowned. Then, his chin tilted upward, and his voice raised a little, "You aren't covered in feathers, and wearing my clothes. I don't want to hear it!"

"Right- and is there some other reason why you're sitting here, in the dark-"

"Not that dark." He snipped, even though the curtains were shut on the window, and the only light was coming from the lantern nearby.

"And brooding?"

Grian sighed. More bubbles rose up- but, because the water wasn't soapy, they didn't stick.

"I don't want to meet Scar's family." Hands came up out of the water to cup his face, "Again."

"It's just one dinner."

"Just one dinner with people that'll be interested in hearing about my travels."

"If you're going to back out…"

"I'm not." Grian said, stubbornly.

"Then let's get ready." He tapped the side of the tub. "Come on- the faster we get through this, the faster it'll be over."

"Right. Worst case scenario, they find out the truth, and kill the both of us on the spot."

"We have an advantage here. Worst case scenario, they hate you, and… they can't really do anything about it, since you and Scar are already married."

Something relaxed in Grian's expression after that.

But, before Mumbo could ask about it, his gaze flickered over to the dress in the corner in the room. And, quietly, Grian asked if he could get him a clean change of clothes.

-

Getting ready didn't take as long as they thought it would.

They've been through the motions over a million times, now- Grian sitting as still as possible as Mumbo helped pin his hair tightly to his head, fitting the hairpin in as well. He helped him put on the same white dress he was offered before the wedding. He wore jewelry, though it was minimal- and in the end, when he looked presentable, they flagged down a servant to help them find the dining room again.

They were early. Just as early as Scar, who was standing in the room, and talking to the servants that were setting up the dining table. Clearly not expecting them as early as they were, the elf startled at their entrance.

"Oh!" But, clearly, he was pleasantly surprised- pulling out a chair near them, "Sit down, sit down!"

And, with a quiet nod, Grian did so. He sat up straight in his seat, as it was slightly adjusted, and he watched Scar walk back around to the other side of the table. Though he couldn't see him, Grian knew that Mumbo was standing just behind him.

"I suppose- we can wait for them to arrive." One of the servants pulled the chair out for Scar, just as he did for Grian, and he easily sat down in it.

"You're not sitting next to me?" Grian asked.

Scar looked confused. "This is where I've always sat?"

Grian tried to get a good, visual layout in his head of how the arrangement would look. Though there was no food placed in front of them, there were plates indicating where everyone would sit. The parents sitting on the ends, the brothers next to each other, and Grian sitting by himself, facing away from the exit. And though Mumbo would be standing just behind him throughout the whole dinner, it wasn't as comforting as he hoped it'd be. 

He tried to imagine the sort of conversations that would come up- questions about Ariana that he and Mumbo have been going over since the very start of the mission, along with other questions he didn't even consider, and would probably have to come up with on the spot. Normally, in front of Mumbo, and in front of your regular esteemed guest, it was easy.

This arrangement sounded like a nightmare. In his imagination, no matter what he said, his words were picked apart in a brutal interrogation, and he was left on his own to deal with it. With a set furrow in his brow, he waved Mumbo over.

"My lady?" He asked, awkwardly.

"Sit down."

"What-?"

He kicked out the seat next to him. And, a little rougher than he'd like to admit, he helped Mumbo sit down in it.

Scar's smile strained slightly at the sight, "What are you doing?"

Mumbo slowly tried to stand again. Grian's hand reached for his arm, and gently helped him sit down again.

"I want him to join us. Can I get a plate for him, please-?" He waved over one of the nearby servants, who quickly spun into action. And when Scar's expression hadn't changed, Grian pressed, "You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not."

"I'm happy to hear that." He said, and aimed for sounding as genuine as possible. A plate was placed in front of Mumbo, with some silverware dropped next to it, finalizing the arrangement, and Grian finally felt like he could breathe.

It didn't take very long until the food started coming in, even though the family hadn't made their appearances yet. Trays of entrées and sides, still hot and steaming, placed on the table in between them. (Placed early to allow it to cool down, maybe, before the family would finally appear. Not too hot, not too cold.)

Drinks were placed on the table as well. Jugs of water, and bottles of what looked to be wine- one placed just a little too close to Grian's side- and though the temptation was there, he didn't want to touch it until everyone was already sitting down, and speaking. Instead, he filled his empty glass with water, and he sipped at it patiently as he waited.

Then, servants started filing in- and there were four of them posted around the dining room. Standing straight, with their hands behind their backs, and their eyes carefully trained forward. Two of them, Grian realized, had subtle changes to their uniform- and if he had to guess, then he’d say it was some of the parent’s servants, rather than Scar’s.

There was one that caught Grian's eye immediately.

One that was standing up, behind Scar’s seat- arms tucked behind his back, and standing up straight, in a similar position that Mumbo would be in if Grian didn't insist on having him sit down at the table. He had a scar on the left side of his face, barely visible with how some of his hair shielded the top part of his face- but that wasn't the most jarring thing about him. It wasn't the serious scowl set on his face, either.

If Grian had to guess, the boy looked to be around 15 years old. Even though he was an elf, and probably older, it wasn’t hard to assume at a first glance.

And it wasn't… unnatural to have some younger people doing a servant's job. When Grian first met Mumbo, he was almost 15 years old, and he knew that he'd been working there a long time before they finally met. But it was still weird, nonetheless- and when he looked over to subtly test Mumbo's reaction, he saw that Mumbo was unnervingly still. (He looked just fine, from anyone else's perspective- but Grian knew better.)

Though they knew nothing about the boy, it looked like he was almost a spitting image of Mumbo from back then. Just as serious, and no-nonsense a teenager could truly get.

"Is something wrong?"

Grian's hand squeezed Mumbo's knee as a parting gesture. Then he interlocked his hands, and brought them up to the table. Scar's gaze was locked onto Mumbo, for some odd reason, but his attention quickly shifted over as Grian said, "I'm nervous." And, upon making eye contact, he elaborated. "To see your parents again. I really, really want them to like me."

"Really?" Scar took the bait. And, just as easily as he expected, the attention was off of Mumbo for as long as he needed it to be. "You seemed to have a great first impression at the wedding."

Grian remembered that moment uncomfortably well. The mother spoke to them, and congratulated them before she'd made a few small, but passive-aggressive compliments that he had to sit and laugh through. Something that would've had Grian's stomach rolling, if he were actually marrying Scar because he loved him.

I didn't know why he picked you, since there were so many good candidates- was amongst them, he remembered- But now I see that you were a pleasant choice! You're so much nicer in person.

And, though it was meant to sound reassuring, it… didn't. And Scar sat there, smiling and laughing through it all, and the whole interaction made Grian just a touch more miserable.

"We didn't get to talk for very long." He said instead. "I just worry."

"I wouldn't worry about whether or not they liked you."

Grian set his head on the palm of his hand. "Because you like me? And love triumphs all?"

Scar's next laugh sounded close to a giggle, "They're not going to be sticking around for much longer- and yes, I like you very much." The words sounded hollow in Scar's throat, but Grian pretended to feel flattered over it nonetheless, "So there's nothing to worry about."

"You don't sound like you have much confidence in me."

"I have the utmost confidence in you." He winced, "But… since you're asking him to sit with us-"

"He's staying." He said sweetly.

"They won’t like that, but as long as you can deal with that, you'll have absolutely nothing to worry about."

"I'm feeling better already."

Out of the corner of his eye, Grian saw Mumbo leaning back in his seat, as if he were trying to fade out from the situation entirely. With a sigh from Mumbo, a knee tapped his knee. And, without much thought put into it, Grian returned the gesture. A quiet, ‘I'm here' and a much louder, ‘I'm here, too.'

Then, the family finally arrived- three people of obvious importance entering the room around the same time, with servants trailing just behind them.

First it was Cub. Grian easily recognized him from the portraits, and his approach at the wedding. He, amongst the family, was the shortest out of all of them- and he was the only one that walked into the room with a set frown on his face. And the minute Cub's eyes set on Mumbo and Grian, that glare became impossibly colder, but Grian kept his head held high, and he remained confident. He kept eye contact with him as he walked into the room, and sat down next to Scar- and it's only in sitting down when Grian realized that Scar's also been smiling the entire time.

Then it was Scar's mother. She walked through the doorway with a strange sort of elegance in her step- looking wistful, and thoughtful. That look similarly washed off her face when she saw Mumbo sitting next to Grian at the table- and Grian was thankful that there was a veil on his face, if just to hide the growing smile. 

It would've been much more difficult to deal with, if he didn't have him at his side, after all. He might've actually cared about the looks being sent his way- or the way that Scar's mother seemed to be staring into his very soul, and trying to pick it apart without much more than a look. She and Cub were similar, in that way- and in how similar they both looked in appearance.

Then Scar's father walked in, and all Grian could say for certain was that he was tired. Out of the four of them, he was the only elf that showed any signs of aging- wrinkles set, and framing an exhausted look on his face- but whether that was from how old he was, or because of something else was completely unknown. Grian did, however, know that elves aged at a completely different rate than everyone else did- so if it was age, then this elf was old. Very old. 

Everyone took their spots. The parents on the ends, Cub next to Scar. There were ten chairs, in total- two for Scar's parents, and four on the sides that everyone else was sitting on, leaving just an empty chair in between Grian and Scar's mother.

"It's nice to see you again, Ariana." Scar's mother said, as she sat down. "And… it's nice to meet your servant, as well."

Grian could hear Mumbo's breath hitching, and knew immediately that it wasn't because he was being directly addressed. For the first time since the rest of Scar's family entered, they finally shared a fleeting, knowing look. Knees knocking each other under the table before they both looked at Scar's mother again, faces completely straight and neutral.

Because Grian knew something that Mumbo hadn't- a fact that slipped from his mind, over worrying about how the dinner would go. One that he probably would've let Mumbo in on, if they'd had the time to mull it over. Through no fault of her own, Scar's mother had a very… strange voice. And it wasn't anything bad- Scar had a similar manner of speaking when they first met, bleeding through some recent conversations, and now they could see where he got it from- but the problem was entirely in Grian, and how he reacted to it.

When they first met- briefly, under the guise of a joke, he'd laughed at it, because he didn't think it was her actual voice. It sounded as if Grian tried mimicking Scar, lifting his voice in a certain way, and then going up a few pitches higher than necessary. It sounded- entirely fake. And, at the same time, he wouldn't be surprised if it was faked.

Grian could perfectly imitate people's voices, and it was a skill he learned in finding his own. If he hadn't imitated people, there likely would've been a certain difference in his voice as he grew older- sounding much more raspy, like a parrot trying to imitate a person, rather than another person trying to copy what someone else was saying, even if he was just speaking in his normal voice. And, growing up with Mumbo, he found that it was easy to imitate him until he sounded much more normal-

But, at the same time, he loved copying other people when they had strange voices- especially when they were trying to go for something that sounded very fancy, and instead ended up with something that just made them sound… silly. He practically bastardized the Ariana voice, going from something that was supposed to be soft and feminine, to something just slightly more annoying, and much more fun to speak in. (And, with the crowd he was involving himself in, he knew that none of them would've been able to tell otherwise.)

"Thank you." Grian said, voice so calm that it was almost scarily steady, "I'm happy to see you all again, as well. And my bodyguard is, too."

In the case of Scar's mother… The more she spoke, the more Grian felt the overwhelming urge to copy her voice. It was like an itch at the back of his throat that he couldn't scratch, until he made and perfected that tone and cadence she was using. It was unbearable.

"I'm aware that my son and his brother like to go by… nicknames." She said the last part slowly, as both the brothers in question kept their heads down, "But I don't have such a name, and neither does their father. You can call me-" And, immediately, Grian felt like his mind blinked, and didn't process a single thing she said. Then, she said, "And his father goes by…" Before, again, Grian couldn't understand what she was trying to say.

And he knew that she was saying something. Her mouth was moving, and there were words coming out of it- but the sounds that came out of her mouth didn't register in Grian's mind. And, at the blank look on his face, Scar's mother laughed.

"They're not so difficult!" She started to pile food onto her plate, and when Grian looked around, he noticed that the rest of the family were already starting to eat. "Once you get used to it, I'm sure you'll be able to pronounce your husband's name as well."

"Of course." He said with an awkward, stilted laugh. "He hasn't told it to me, yet."

"I think he's just trying not to embarrass you." Then, she said his name- and even though Grian was paying closer attention, he couldn't pick up on the word Scar being anywhere in it. "Of course-" She continued, even though Grian wished she wouldn't, "If he married another elf, this little thing wouldn't be such a problem- but I digress! It's lovely to, um…" She paused, as if she was actually thinking about what to say next, and her lips smacked together, "Lovely to have more… culture, in our home."

Grian looked over to Scar. He had a neutral expression on his face as he ate, but he was also trying not to make eye contact.

"I… can tell." He said slowly.

"And may I ask why your servant is joining us at the table?" His mother asked politely, and Grian felt his lips press together in a strained smile- still, thankfully, covered by the veil. "As you can see, usually, our servants aren't as… reluctant to do their jobs." She finished plainly. "I don't know how this works for you, usually, but we care about how our servants present themselves, because it's an extension of ourselves."

"Oh, really?"

"If our servants were sitting with us at the table, what would that say about us, hm?" Scar's mom hummed eagerly, "That we're lazy? And let them walk all over us? We can't have that when guests are over."

Grian's knee knocked against Mumbo's. Mumbo knocked back. He didn't want to imagine how it felt, being talked down to like you were a dog, instead of a human being.

"He's my bodyguard, actually." Grian corrected gently, "I usually have him taste the foods I eat, to make sure they aren't poisoned. So he is doing his job."

He didn't miss the way one of Scar's eyebrows raised, along with Cub's eyebrows furrowing at the same time. The father didn't seem to react, or care, and was instead piling food onto his plate. Scar’s mother looked… shocked, at the admittance.

"I can assure you, we have nothing but the best working in our kitchens, and serving you. No need for… this."

"It's a habit I'll break eventually, I'm sure. With time."

"And… sometimes, with breaking habits, it's better to start sooner, rather than later, no?" And just the way she said sooner made Grian swallow dryly.

It felt like a test, just for him. Where, originally, he was scared over saying something incriminating, he was now scared of repeating something she'd said on accident, and- well, exposing them.

"I'm in no rush." Then, quieter, he asked, "You don't- mind him sitting at the table, do you?"

Scar's mother smiled, but it was strained, "Of course not! I'm just curious- I have a lot of questions to ask, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead, and ask away."

Then, Grian made the horrible mistake of piling food onto Mumbo's plate for him. Scar's mother opened and closed her mouth in quick succession, upon seeing that Mumbo wasn't just going to sit there and watch everyone else eat, but she remained silent. 

“...”

Admittedly, Grian wasn't scared over whether or not Scar's parents liked him. 

He was for a while, especially at the wedding, but all of it came crumbling down when he realized that it wasn't what he was actually worried about. All he was worried about was getting his cover blown. Without Mumbo at his side, he lacked some of the necessary confidence in his performance- but thankfully, so long as nobody said anything, and nobody forced Mumbo to stand up, Grian could comfortably continue as Ariana.

"You have questions?" He prompted gently. "Oh, before that, I'm afraid your name is a little… difficult for me to pronounce."

"That's alright- I wouldn't expect anything else." Her gaze flitted over to Scar for a second. "Not all of us can be so educated." She said, and the disappointment in her voice was clear.

Grian leaned over the table, to get her to look over at him, and he asked, "Can I call you mom instead?"

A few things happened at once. Across the table, almost sounding like a sneeze, someone snorted. Growing up with Mumbo, of all people, Grian could spot the sound of an inappropriate, stifled laugh from a mile away- but when he looked up, the father hadn't moved much, and the brothers were sharing very stoic expressions- so it was difficult to pinpoint where it came from.

At the same time- almost in unison, but not perfectly timed- Scar's parents and Mumbo all dropped their forks against their plates, and produced the same sort of clank sound, followed by a tense silence.

"...just until I get used to it." Grian added, cheerily. 

Grian could, without a doubt, learn how to pronounce their names. Even if it was more mimicking the sounds they made, and less of understanding the actual language- all she'd have to do is repeat it a few times, and he could learn how it was pronounced by the end of the day. But it was so worth the look on her face, after asking that question, and it was so worth the laugh that followed (that, most likely, came from Scar.)

"Of course… we're family now, aren't we?" Mom said stiffly. Voice flat, and making it more than clear that the voice that she was putting on was mostly just for show.

"And since we're being so personal, you can call me Ari." He tacked on. 

Mumbo's knee knocked against his. Grian did the motion back just as swiftly- and it's then when he realized that Mumbo's leg had been bouncing under the table the entire time, to alleviate some of the tension he was feeling. Then, the two of them went through the motions of laying a cloth on their laps.

Suddenly, everyone was eating, and everyone but Mom was keeping their heads held down.

"Ari." Mom started, slowly, and Grian beamed upon having the nickname being used, "Before you disappeared from the public's eye… I distinctly remember you saying that you detested this sort of… lavish lifestyle."

"Mhm?"

"What changed your mind?"

Grian pretended to think it over.

"Living with my old family was… a difficult experience, so I decided to leave. And now, I'm just hoping to quietly settle with someone. You know how it is."

"I've never had to settle for anyone." She corrected.

Grian's eyebrows twitched. "Did your husband have to settle for you, then?" Was out of his mouth, before he could stop himself.

"I was chosen in a similar way. Our family doesn't settle."

"Your son settled for me."

"You weren't the best out of a bad bunch." She said harshly. "You were among some incredible candidates, and you should be thankful that he decided to pick you, of all people."

Grian's mouth opened, and the inhale was loud and clear- but before he said anything, there was a hand idly tapping his knee, and he closed it. Don't lay it on too thickly.

"Mom." Scar said, though his voice wasn't very loud.

But Mom was fed up with him, apparently. She huffed, "What?" She asked, and Grian had to bite his lip to keep from repeating her, "Out of any girl there-"

"I don't want you two to fight." And, with a final huff, she finally stayed quiet for longer than a few seconds.

"I have a question." Cub said. And, upon looking at him, he straightened up a little.

"Ask away."

"How did you hear about Scar's debut party? Since you were traveling, and all. I didn't think it would get around."

"Word of mouth." He said carefully, "Rumors travel fast, and I just happened to be nearby."

Mom jutted her chin upward, "I wasn't even sure that the real Ariana would show up."

"And yet, I'm here."

"I suppose you just have the habit of causing controversy, wherever you go."

"I suppose I do." He snipped back.

"...my lady." Mumbo muttered, and Grian's head snapped over to glare at him, "Your plate."

Grian's plate has been empty, while everyone else has been eating. With a dry mouth, he realized that he was still hungry, and quietly began putting food on his plate.

"How is it?"

"Try the fish." And, after that, he said, "And… some rice."

After eating, Grian felt significantly better, and he realized that a lot of anxiety he was feeling might've just been coming from his hunger. He felt much more prepared to talk-

But before he did so, Grian carefully handled one of the jugs, and poured some wine into his glass. He swallowed a mouthful- and, immediately, he knew that something was off about it. It slid down his mouth weirdly, and he grimaced at the odd taste of it. But since nothing happened, he just assumed it to be a brand that had a specific taste, and he set the glass back down on the table. 

After a few minutes, a weird feeling rose in his stomach. He continued to eat to keep the weird feeling away, but it didn't disappear.

Conversation continued among the family, quiet and casual, the sound of murmuring going in one of Grian's ears and out the other just as quickly. Grian remained quiet throughout it, since his mouth felt uncomfortably dry, and he swore that his tongue wasn't fitting in his mouth anymore. He stared down at the table, mind going foggy, and let himself completely zone out.

A knock against his knee. Faintly, he knocked back.

Then, he looked up.

From where he was sitting- facing away from the exit- Grian had a good view of the painting Scar had talked about just earlier that day. The lady sitting by the fountain, laughing- but this time, when he looked up to face her again, the room spun as he did so. The lights were just too bright, letting the atmosphere make the painting just a little too vivid, and a little too real.

Instead of looking like she was enjoying herself, Grian swore that it looked like she was laughing at him. And, honestly, who wouldn't, in this scenario? Grian's head felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton, and when he looked back down, everyone was just acting like it was normal. They were laughing alongside her- and though it was quiet, it sounded loud in Grian's head. It created a strange disconnect between him and everyone else. It made him want to leave, just as the dinner was starting. It made him want to quit.

It took him a long moment for him to realize what was happening.

But, just as his sluggish brain caught up with him, Grian placed a frantic hand on Mumbo's arm before the room spun one final time, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

(The dining room erupted the minute Grian's face hit the table.

There were shouts, screams, and accusations from different members of the family- along with a few exclamations from the previously stoic servants standing on the sidelines. Though he noted that Scar's mom was the one who was talking the loudest, she didn't even try to look worried about the princess- more upset over the fact that the wine had been tampered with, and why it was placed in between them- talking about how she could've been the one to drink it, if Grian hadn't.

Grian, with the help of a few other servants, was quickly rushed back to their room. 

Mumbo stayed close to Grian's side the entire time, even as he caught the sound of Scar's voice coming from the dining room- raised, slightly, and aimed towards his family- but whatever he was saying was lost on him, voice fading the further Mumbo got down the hall, and away from the dining room.

Grian was carefully set down on the bed. He was still breathing, however slow and silent it was, and his heart was still beating normally when Mumbo checked the pulse point under his veil. Mumbo slowly peeled the veil back, and he didn't so much as move a muscle. His skin was flushed and, when bringing his hand up to his forehead, Mumbo felt that it was warm to the touch- nothing unlike a normal fever.

Mumbo told the servants sticking around to leave- to get Scar, and bring him here.)

Now, they were both sitting near the edge of Grian's bed. Silently.

Mumbo's hands were clammy, and he couldn't manage to keep them still, wrapping them around each other and tapping them against his knee, before moving one of them to touch the side of the bed. Then, with one hand touching his knee and one touching his bed, his leg began to bounce. Anything to stave off the anxiety that was welling up inside him, from having to reveal Grian's secret, and worrying for Grian's safety. 

Scar was, however, sitting perfectly still- but instead of being calm and casual, or aloof- he was staring at Grian's still frame with a tense, almost angry look on his face.

"She's an avian?" He muttered.

Grian's hair was down, now. And though they didn't move like they usually would, unnaturally still, the feathers were still out, and still shown. Clear as day.

Mumbo didn't even have to tell him. He seemed to spot them the minute he saw Grian again.

"She wasn't born an avian." He lied through his teeth, hand lingering near the covers that were pulled over Grian just moments earlier, reaching to tug them up- as if he was ready to pull the blankets over his head, and let him save face. As if Scar hadn’t been by his side since the moment he keeled over. "She got cursed a very long time ago, back when she was still with her family. And we haven't been able to break it since."

"That's why she wore the veil." It wasn't a question. 

"She's still very… sensitive about it. And she's adamant on keeping it a secret." Scar's face pulled into a tense look, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. "I need you to keep it a secret." Mumbo pleaded, quietly.

"I want her to live."

"So do I." He urged, "But- avians, her curse- she's resistant to most… sicknesses and poisons, now. And even though she's sleeping, she looks fine. Right?"

"...I can't tell."

Neither could Mumbo. Quickly, he took Grian's hand, just to check his pulse at his wrist. It was slow, like he was sleeping. He was still breathing. He looked relatively peaceful, like this.

"She'll be fine." He said, now with a steeled tone, "I'll keep an eye on her- and if she gets any worse… You can call whoever you want."

Because, as much as he wanted to complete this job- for Grian's sake, at this point- he would never risk his health to reach the end of it. (The minute anyone but Scar found out that he was an avian- spoiling that perfect image of this perfect princess in their minds that they've worked so hard to nail- they were ruined. All it took was one wrong step after killing Scar to get caught- and that meant that it would be a failed mission.

But… Scar was fine, if he kept it to himself. He was going to die anyway, and the two of them could ensure that the secret would die with him.)

Scar nodded along.

"I'll help. If you need me to." He said, and Mumbo was immediately relieved.

-

Grian never really got sick. Nothing beyond a small sniffle, anyway- and, even then, the symptoms were small, and barely noticeable.

It was usually Mumbo that ended up getting sick multiple times throughout the year. Pausing in their travels for a few days- Grian watching him laying down flat on his back with his arms straight down his sides, like applying any sort of pressure to his stomach might kill him. Sick- down with a fever and a stomach bug- with sweat rolling down the side of his face as he would dramatically monologue about his unwritten will and testament.

"Amend my will, you weren't on there before." He'd say, voice no louder than a whisper as he rambled. Grian would just be snickering at him as he did so, and as Mumbo probably intended- but every laugh in return would be coupled with looks of pain.

It always ended up being the same sort of talk- whatever small materialistic gain they had would be given to Grian. And if Grian ever ended up getting caught, and (by some twist of events) famous- Grian would need to mention that Mumbo was his partner in crime at least twice before he'd be jailed or killed for his crimes. (But that was if Grian got caught, and if he would just so happen to have a cellmate in jail that was an author. Someone who would write down all of their adventures and make it a best selling hit, propelling their name into eternal fame.)

Of course, Mumbo didn’t ever die from a measly stomach bug, and Grian never thought that he would. Those sorts of ramblings- the same sort of ones he'd never give if he was awake, or clear headed- were just reserved for when he was sick, and needed something to help take his mind off it. (Sometimes, Grian would just get lost in the idea, dreamily, that Mumbo never even considered giving their shared profits to someone else.)

But that was Mumbo. Mumbo got sick, and thought he was dying every single time, and Grian didn't even have to worry about it.

(Though, Grian had been bedridden before. Once.

Not from any sort of sickness- it'd been an injury. A hit gone wrong, with some details that Grian didn’t bother remembering- but the important part was that he was almost hit in a vital area, and he needed days to recover before they could leave again. All the while, Mumbo was by his side, only disappearing for a bit to get them food and water, and to check and see if anyone was on their trail. 

He remembered, at one point, trying to desperately cling onto Mumbo’s sleeve, and pull him back to his side. His hands were too weak for that, and he easily slipped right out of his grasp.

There was nothing like it. Being bedridden.

When he was awake, Grian had felt the hours eating away at him. Like staying stagnant was actively hurting him, instead of helping him. It drove him insane. 

And like how people who freeze to death will paradoxically take off their clothes at the last stage before death, Grian had wanted to get up. When it was at its worst, he wanted to stretch nicely, and just get his body up and moving again. He remembered trying to get up, and Mumbo holding him down, and calmly explaining that any sudden movement would reopen the wound and most likely kill him. And while Mumbo had wanted it to be a chilling realization, something that would force him to be still for a moment, it just made Grian all the more frantic. 

Maybe he bit Mumbo that day. Mumbo denied it when he asked, but he was looking away as he reassured him- clearly trying to save Grian some face. Ever since then, Grian had been extra careful about getting injured. 

He never wanted to lay down and not be allowed to get up ever again.)

But that injury, and whatever was happening right now… those were completely different.

Grian didn’t want to get up now. He wanted to close his eyes, and sleep for hours and hours and hours- until it didn’t feel like his dinner was sitting in the back of his throat anymore. 

As he woke up, shivering violently, he dug his nails into the first thing he got his hands on, which just so happened to be the soft skin of a sweaty palm. His eyes were screwed shut and his stomach swooped- and, quickly, he was pushed to his side, and his lungs twitched painfully as a bucket was pressed into his cheek. The hand he was holding onto gently guided his grip to the side of the bucket, and then the hand brushed the damp hair from his face. It stayed resting against his temple. 

Grian heaved into the bucket, but nothing happened- partially relieved that he wasn’t throwing up, and partially wishing that he could get it over with and feel better afterwards. The pain in his abdomen was unbearable, and he sobbed dryly when nothing seemed to help.

“Mumbo.” He put his hand over one of his temples, and it was so warm and comforting that he almost felt actual tears spring into his eyes. “Mumbo-”

“It’s Scar.” The voice was quiet, and almost embarrassed, like he didn’t want Grian to actually hear it. But he obviously did. He pushed away from the bucket, turning to lay onto his back so quickly that he saw his life flash before his eyes. “Hi.” Scar was smiling nervously. His hand was still on his temple- comforting, warm, and moving along with him. “Please tell me you’re not dying.”

Grian was about to answer, but his stomach cramped once again, and he pulled his legs up, pushing his back off the bed like it might help. It didn’t. “Where’s Mumbo-” He plopped back down, face twisting up.

“He’ll be back in a second, don’t worry. He just left a moment ago.” Grian’s eyes moved to Scar hovering next to him without turning his head. Scar’s nervous smile was still there, though now much less nervous and much more kind, thumb brushing over his temple. “Are you okay?”

“Screw you,” Grian rasped, unintelligible, and then- “I’m in a lot of pain.”

“I imagine.” His voice was nice. The rumbling in his whispers almost seemed to ease the pain. 

At another wave of pain, Grian dropped the bucket that he was loosely holding onto, and it rolled down past the edge of the bed, where Scar tried to keep it in place with his foot. Grian pressed his hands against his abdomen, and both the pressure and slight warmth helped- at least to distract from the pain, if it wasn’t easing it- but his hands were cold and clammy, and they were shaking so much it was driving him insane.

Without much preamble, he grabbed one of Scar’s hands, and placed it decidedly on his stomach, sighing quietly in relief as he felt the warmth through his clothes. The pain was still there- but it was hard to focus on it when he could visually picture the pain being boiled alive for him. The thought alone made it better for him. For a moment, he thought about taking off the dress so that there was nothing separating him from Scar’s apparent healing skills, but the idea caught up with him a moment later, logically. His eyebrows furrowed.

Scar laughed a bit, confused. “Ariana?”

“It helps,” He explained, lamely.

“My hands?”

Grian groaned. “Tell Mumbo to get me something warm.” Cherry seeds in a bag, warmed up. He wondered if they had something like that up here.

Scar said something in response. Something that would've been understandable, in any other scenario- but Grian quickly recognized that his consciousness was fading. And though the hand was removed from his stomach, it was back on his forehead only moments later, and he let himself sigh, and relax briefly.

The pain didn't immediately flare up again. Grian went back to sleep.

-

Every time Grian woke up, Scar was sitting by his side.

Sometimes, he'd be fading in and out of consciousness- unable to move, or communicate what was wrong with him. At a few points, everything felt a little too warm in his face, but a little too cold near his torso. Flushed, with chills- but, somehow, he'd always get help for it. It was as if Scar knew that there was something wrong, even though Grian had no way of telling him. The blanket would be raised up past his shoulders, or an icy cold towel would be draped across his head to help break that dreaded fever. And though Grian never moved all that much, and never opened his eyes too wide, Scar would sometimes keep his hand on that towel- lightly tapping it, while humming to himself, even if he likely thought that Grian wouldn't be awake to witness it.

Humming- that was another thing Grian heard a lot while he was sick. And from what he could tell, it was always coming from Scar, either in the act of making sure that he was okay, or just humming to himself as he kept himself occupied. And, for once- even as his head pounded sometimes, or he felt much too uncomfortable to be laying in his own skin- he didn't mind the humming all that much. Scar's voice was nice, and pleasant.

As the time passed, Grian knew that his senses and comprehension were skewed- but it didn't feel like that much time had passed at all. It felt like he'd wake up- fully, sometimes- and he'd be met with Scar at his side. Then he'd fall asleep, and it'd be a constant cycle of him shutting his eyes for a few moments, and him opening them just to see that Scar was still at his side. Still pushing that towel up, and still humming some simple tunes.

Realistically, he knew that a few days had passed. Realistically, he knew that Mumbo wasn't actually avoiding him, and that Scar wasn't staying up for nights on end to care for him, and that he was likely just waking up and falling back asleep around strange times. But for a while, in his foggy brain, it was the only thing that made sense.

He could also hear Scar talking sometimes, in these moments- pressing for him to wake up, and drink some water, or eat something- but as far as Grian could tell, nothing came of it. His throat felt dry every time he woke up, and his head pounded in tandem, but it was so much better than how he felt that first time he woke up. It was easier to fall back asleep, the more time had passed. 

And soon, when the only pain left would be from staying stagnant for so long, he was going to get up again.

-

Mumbo woke up on the couch, with Scar already in the room.

And, usually, that was the standard for their little arrangement. Scar and Mumbo both wanted to make sure that Grian wouldn't be alone while he was sick, just in case something happened- whether it be yet another attempt on his life, him waking up, or a major dip in his health. (Because, as much as he was trying to hold all of this together, Mumbo was not going to risk Grian's safety for the sake of a major payout. If their lie fell through in the slightest, despite the whole avian reveal that he's already covered up, they were leaving.)

They kept a close eye on Grian's fever. Scar was constantly putting cold, wet towels on his forehead, and changing them out again when it neared room temperature. Sometimes, he'd leave with the buckets entirely- washing the empty one out, and refilling the one full of water to keep it cold. Mumbo tried doing the same in turn, but Scar always seemed to be much more… professional about it. As if he knew what he was doing.

He kept bringing in certain medicines and techniques that he explained would break his fever, or help with his sicknesses. Strange techniques that Mumbo had never even heard of, but happily helped along with, so long as it saved Grian. They monitored the fever- seeing it spike at some point, and scaring the both of them- before dwindling down, and leaving them to wait for him to wake up.

Scar and Mumbo also took care of each other as well, however silent or subtle it was. They'd keep watch at the same time, sometimes- but then, one of them would leave to get a new book, or to get some food for the two of them, since they were antsy about letting the servants handle anything they were eating. Conversation during those moments was light, and fun. (As much as it could be, anyway, with Grian lying still in between them). But, for the most part, everything passed by smoothly. Days passed easily.

The only problem with this sort of arrangement was that Mumbo didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, and he didn’t remember Scar coming in. His legs were angled weirdly, and there was a pillow under his back- a crick in his neck, he noticed, the minute he sat up again- and he turned to see Scar sitting by Grian’s bed. Quietly reading a book, with a cup sitting next to him on the nightstand, only looking up when Mumbo had sat up.

“Hey.” He said, quietly, and Mumbo mumbled out a response, “You were falling asleep on the chair last night.”

“Mhm?” He remembered the other night, vaguely- after the fever broke, and after Scar assured him that Grian’s woken up a few times, he stayed up a little later than usual to wait for him. (And, well… the pieces stuck, after that. He must’ve been too tired to remember going to bed.)

Mumbo made his way to the chair set on the other side of their bed- the one he'd been staying in, when he wasn't pacing holes into the floors of the room. Though he was likely disheveled from sleep, he sat there, and sighed.

Grian looked a lot better.

His face was still horribly flushed, and his eyes were still shut, but he no longer had an uncomfortable look on his face. If anything, he seemed peaceful. A few days in, and things were taking a good turn.

"Do you normally sleep on the couch?" Scar asked him curiously, looking more than eager in taking his eyes off the book he'd been reading. When Mumbo looked over, he was holding the book shut on his lap, and he was leaning over it to try and get a better look at him.

"What?" He asked, just as his mind was catching up with what Scar had been asking. He started stretching his arms to alleviate some of the pain between his shoulders.

"It looks uncomfortable." Scar admitted, "We could get a bed in here for you, if you'd like-"

"No- you're fine. I don't normally sleep on the couch."

"Ah." Scar seemed conflicted about that, and it only took a few seconds for Mumbo to realize why. "So… you two normally share the bed?"

Mumbo shifted in his seat, suddenly much more awake, because- yeah, it was a little weird to finally admit their sleeping habits to Ariana's new husband. A bodyguard sleeping in the same room as someone they're trying to protect, especially in a new space? Sure, that was easy enough to believe- but the same bed? For weeks?

"It's not like that!" He quickly assured, hands moving nervously, "My lady- she just feels better when she's not sleeping by herself. And the bed was big enough for the two of us when we first came here-"

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, it's just…" Scar slowly trailed off, before he clicked his tongue, "I'm just curious."

"We're… close." He tried explaining further. Grian was always better in situations like these- making and molding a character, and coming up with excuses on the dot. Some part of him wished he was conscious right now- not just for his own safety- but also because if he had the energy to, he'd likely be pushing Mumbo's stories with some things of his own to make them sound more credible. "Childhood friends. Sharing a bed back then wasn't as…" Mumbo struggled to come up with the word.

"Scandalous?" Scar prompted.

"Sure."

"I'm not worried about you two sharing a bed." He admitted, "Though, my family would have a field day with it, considering… well, the rumors surrounding her."

"Rumors?"

"That Ariana left with her servant because the two of them fell in love?" And, at the reminder, Mumbo leaned back in his seat. Scar leaned forward, "And she left to get eloped with him because her parents found out, and tried marrying her off to someone else. That- I wanted to ask about that, when I was told that she'd be coming to my debut party. To see if any of it was true."

"...rumors tend to get out of hand." All that'd been told to the public was that Ariana's family was stifling, and not allowing her to have certain freedoms. Like, as stated, the ability to marry whoever she wanted. The whole 'marrying her servant' thing was a rumor that they took from it- and one that was just never corrected.

"You're that servant, then?" Scar pressed carefully. 

"..." Mumbo nodded.

"Wow- how long has it been, now-"

"14 years." Somewhere around then, anyway, since Ariana first went missing.

"And you've been by her side the whole time?"

"The whole time."

14 years. 

Looking at it on its own, the number seemed so big, and daunting. 14 years, since he and Grian first became friends- 13, since they left together with promises of never looking back. 13 years with no real home to go to, traveling as much of the world as they could reach on foot before they'd end up around where they first started. 12, or 11 years since they started doing shady things for money, and eventually leading them to creating a hitman persona to start putting more food on the table, and more money in their pockets. 10 years of missions. Coming up with fake characters for missions, and helping just about anyone that found a way to get in contact with them-

The time passed easily, with Grian being at his side. 14 years didn't seem like that big of a deal- and he didn't feel stressed about spending much more time with him once this whole thing was over with. They were finally going to settle in one spot- having a nice house out in the middle of nowhere, and keeping each other company for as long as they could last. 

A future was easy with him. Nice, he'd say, but never to his face.

Scar nodded absentmindedly, at the statement. "I don't intend to get between that friendship of yours."

Friendship.

It felt like a lame word to compare him and Grian. 

There was something else there. Something more. Or maybe, he thought, he was just growing sentimental at the reminder of how long it's been- or because Grian was sick for the first time since Mumbo's known him. The first time in 14 years. 

Distantly, he hoped that getting sick wasn't a reoccurring side effect- having only one person being sick when the two of them were traveling was a much easier thing to handle.

"I just don't want you getting the wrong idea.”

Scar hummed, and assured him otherwise- but whatever he said fell on deaf ears when he looked over at Grian again.

Grian's face was suddenly contorted. 

Not in pain, or because he was uncomfortable- nothing like how his face has been changing, since he's been sick- but Mumbo instantly recognized it as the face he'd make when he was trying to hold in a laugh. The type of face he'd make when he was awake.

He was, clearly, awake- and maybe Scar hadn’t noticed it yet. It was contorted, then it smoothed out seconds later, which more than proved that he was hiding it, and likely waiting for something.

Mumbo sighed, and stretched again- arms raising above his head, stretching his arms until his shoulders let out a quiet pop.

"Hey, I could go for something to eat-" Then, Mumbo put his hands on his knees, and moved as if he was about to stand up-

And, just as he guessed he would, Scar got up before he did.

"Oh, no worries! You just woke up, I'll get it." Scar said, "I need to stretch my legs, anyway."

Scar quickly left the room, the door softly clicking closed behind him. Mumbo gave it a second. Two. Then, "He's gone." The pause after that wasn't as slow, "I know you're awake."

And when he looked over again, he was met with Grian giving him a glare through half-lidded eyes. His face was still flushed, and he still looked like he was sick- but he also looked better, in a way. Sunk into the bed like he was planning on staying there for months, and wearing something that was actually comfortable- even if his feathers stuck out because of it. Mumbo lifted up the wet towel on his head to move it further away from his eyes, and Grian sighed, and shut his eyes again.

"Yeah, what gave it away?" Grian sounded just about as miserable as he looked. "You two were talking about me. I couldn't just- fall back asleep."

"Have you been awake this whole time?"

"No." Then, Grian's face split into a wide smile- and, for once the expression wasn't even slightly unwelcome. "You're just embarrassed because you were worried about me." He teased- voice horrible, and congested. A hand snuck out from under the covers, and tugged at the sleeves of Mumbo’s shirt.

"Where'd you get that idea?" And, despite himself, Mumbo was smiling, too.

"You look like you haven't slept in days."

Then, the smile faded slightly. Right. 

With Grian being sick, and with Scar not knowing that he was awake, they only had a limited amount of time to chat privately.

"Scar saw your feathers." He reported grimly.

Said feathers twitched against his head. With them being unclipped, they freely moved around his head. Grian frowned.

"I know." He said, and though his voice was quiet, it was still close to a frustrated whine. "He's been the one taking care of me… while you're constantly off, doing… whatever."

"I've been here, too!"

"Barely."

Apparently, according to Scar, the avian would periodically wake up, and talk to him- but almost every single time that's happened, it happened when he wasn't there to witness it. 

It happened when he was getting food, or books for the two of them- or when he was sleeping on the couch just a few feet away from the bed, just out of sight from Grian- it was like it happened on a timer. And, coincidentally, whenever Mumbo stepped into the room, he was asleep again. It wouldn't happen when Scar was out of the room, and sleeping in his own bed, or when Scar was bringing food over. Only when Mumbo was busy. And he wasn't bitter about it, really- Grian was awake now, and feeling better, and it was fine!

But now, apparently, Grian had noticed his absence.

"I told him you were cursed, so he wouldn't get suspicious… and I made sure that nobody else could see-"

"I don't care." Grian interrupted. He shuffled around in his bed, and Mumbo pulled up the blankets further to cover his shoulders. "I don't want to worry about it right now."

"It's nothing to worry about."

"Mhm?" Grian hummed, but he didn't sound convinced in the slightest.

“...” Mumbo supposed that it was a problem that they could work out in detail later, when Grian wasn’t as sick, and could think about everything properly. “Did you know the wine was poisoned?”

“No.” He said, incredulously.

"Any ideas on who could've done it? Or- what kind of poison it was?"

"No, but it was strong. Definitely would've killed me, if I was human."

"If it was intentional, then that means that there's a killer running around."

"I know. I'm waiting for them to come back and try to finish the job."

"We're not going to give them the chance."

Grian's frown somehow got even more miserable, "You should."

"What?"

"Check under my pillow."

And, careful not to disturb him, Mumbo stuck his hand underneath the pillow, and felt around the surface. It wasn't until his hand reached cold metal that he finally saw what Grian meant. It was the hairpin, hidden under his pillow. Easily accessible, and readily available to use against intruders. When he looked back up, he met Grian's eyes, and saw that the avian was giving him a wide, cheeky smile.

"Are you in any state to defend yourself?"

"As long as I stay awake when they show up, I'll be fine. I'm still sick, but the worst of it's a headache, and achy joints…"

"And they'll probably want to strike while you're still recovering."

"That's what I'm counting on." But Mumbo’s expression must’ve remained conflicted, because Grian continued pressing, “I just need an hour alone, if that. If the servants see you and Scar leaving- if you distract Scar for me- they’ll have no choice.”

“Unless they’re planning a long con, and waiting for the right opportunity.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Worst case scenario, nothing happens, right?”

“The worst case scenario is you getting stabbed.”

"Do you trust me?"

Mumbo's response died on his lips.

Then the door opened. Scar was in the room again, and the conversation died before he could defend himself. 

The elf walked in tentatively, and closed the door quietly behind him. He had something wrapped in his hands- a sandwich, if he had to guess, since it was easy to make, and the only things Mumbo had been eating this whole time. Mumbo watched him walk in, and gave him an awkward smile when he gave him the sandwich. When he looked back at Grian, he saw that his eyes were already shut- drifting off, or just pretending to be asleep.

As soon as he got close enough to Grian, Scar placed the palm of his hand- bare, for once- against Grian's forehead. Mumbo watched as the avian seemed to sigh, and lean into his touch.

-

Mumbo, despite Grian's wishes, waited just a little longer before he tried anything.

And when Scar stepped out of the room- holding the two buckets in his hands, and saying that he'd be right back- Mumbo waited a few seconds before he followed right behind him. (Grian pretended to be asleep when he first left- but as soon as that door was closed, and Scar was gone, he turned over in his sleep to glare at Mumbo, and the look was obvious. It's now, or never. And despite Mumbo's hesitancy to leave Grian alone in a position like this- it's what he wanted. He didn't want them to spend the rest of his time here worrying about whether or not he'll get poisoned again.

But still, even as Mumbo trusted that he would likely be fine, he still lagged behind. He still shot him an uneasy glance from the doorway before he left, watching him get into position and pretend to be asleep, and he still stared at the door for just a few seconds too long after it was closed. 

An hour, tops. If this killer was as desperate as Grian was clocking them to be, then they wouldn't even need that sort of time. And, best case scenario- worst, in Grian's eyes- the killer would wait too long, and nothing would happen.)

To Mumbo's utter surprise, Scar was headed outside with those buckets. Possibly to the river, if he guessed correctly. He made a quick trip back into the room to grab the lantern, and a coat before he was rushing back outside to meet with Scar. A couple of servants were walking past the door just as he was leaving, so he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him leave.

"Scar!" He called, and he was just loud enough for the elf to hear him. Scar turned around, and even though it was dark, the lantern lit up the confused look on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asked tentatively.

"I saw you leaving." He took a deep breath, and the cool air soothed his lungs, "I was going to offer my services.

"But, Ariana-"

"I asked someone to watch her room for me. She'll be fine." He lied, slipping his hand into the handle of one of the buckets he was holding, and easily taking it from him, "This is a servant's job, I'd be more than happy to do it for you."

"Oh, no, it's fine-" He tried waving him off, but Mumbo went for the other bucket anyway. Scar's other hand tightly gripped the handle, and he put it as far away from Mumbo as his arm could reach- confusion quickly morphing into frustration. "I thought you weren't supposed to be a servant? Maybe you shouldn't be doing a servant's job, either!"

"Then let me help you." Mumbo said, trying to sound as earnest as possible, instead of sounding desperate, "For all your help, in caring for Ariana."

When Scar looked back at him, his face was pinched. He looked tired before, but now, matched with a look on his face that seemed pained, if anything, Mumbo could quite easily say that the elf looked exhausted. Mumbo thought that he'd leave every once in a while to take naps, or get some rest- and he's been by his side, for these past few days, as they were both caring for Grian- but right then and there, Scar looked like he hadn't been sleeping at all. (If Scar told him that he hadn't slept since Grian got sick, he'd believe him, if such a thing were possible. He didn't know if it was different, between humans and elves… so maybe that really was the case, here.)

"You don't have to do that. I'm more than happy to care for her."

"Yes, but I asked you to-"

"And I'm also more than happy to accommodate." Scar interrupted. He gently took the bucket back from him, and the shock of his words alone was enough for Mumbo's grip to loosen. "You're family too. Don't you forget."

Then, Scar continued walking. Mumbo had been stopped in his tracks for only a moment, before everything seemed to catch up with him, and he rushed to stand at Scar's side again, lantern raised to light their path.

"What do you mean?"

"What?"

"You called me family. I'm just Ariana's bodyguard."

"You and her are a packaged deal, as far as I'm concerned." 

"Besides the marriage part." He reminded him. Scar laughed a little, but didn't say anything, so he pressed, "I appreciate your… sincerity." He said, stiffly, "But I'm happy to serve. So let me help."

"I can carry the buckets just fine. Go back to Ariana."

Mumbo held up the lantern stubbornly, "Then let me light your path."

"I can see well in the dark." When Mumbo raised the lantern a little to get a better look at his eyes, he watched Scar's pupils- quickly going from wide, to incredibly narrow in the light of the lantern, "It's you who needs to watch out."

There was a scuffle of a shoe sliding against the ground. Then, seconds later, Mumbo found his balance waning because of a root on the ground, growing out from a tree next to the path. When he shined the lantern against the ground to investigate, he saw that the stray root was the only blemish in the otherwise pristine path, and he easily picked up on what could've caused it- the culprit walking just a little faster down the path, as if he was hoping to lose him. Scar just barely turned back around when Mumbo righted himself- and the last thing he saw of him was the grin on his face before he went out of the lantern's range.

"Scar!" He cried, picking up the pace to follow him.

As he ran up to Scar, he made sure there were no sudden roots blocking his path. He heard a scoff from Scar as he caught up, keeping up the quick pace and barely looking Mumbo's way.

"You're stubborn."

"I'd like to-" He paused for a moment, taking time to choose his words, while also stretching out this distraction for as long as possible. An hour, at most. He can do that. "Can I at least keep you company?"

"Company?" Scar raised his eyebrows. "I don't need company right now, thanks."

Mumbo pulled his lips into a thin line. If he were a genuine servant, this would be his cue to leave.

(When he was one- an actual servant, starting out young- he was told that sometimes what his client wanted was something that wasn't the best for them. Sometimes, you needed to go above and beyond- going against their wishes and risking punishment to make sure that their overall needs were met. Especially when caring for someone young and impulsive.

It was a lot of uncomfortable pushing and suggesting and subconscious leading, and Mumbo was not very convincing. And now, looking back on it, it was easy to see how such a job was so easily doomed to fail, in the end. Do what the client wished, but also go against them if you felt like you needed to? Get put down constantly, and told you're less than dirt, but still have the confidence to go against your client when they’re out of line? To risk getting fired, even if you didn't have any sort of failsafe? What a joke. Mumbo, in his years of service- unless caring for children- never took that sort of advice.)

But this was one of those sorts of moments where he'd have to. Scar couldn't fire him, without Grian being upset. And, at this point, Mumbo had the feeling that they had some sort of connection- something that he could easily use to his advantage, to keep him distracted.

"You haven't slept." Mumbo said, keeping pace with Scar, now that he wasn't stumbling over roots anymore. "And… I don't want you to take on this burden by yourself."

Scar came to a swinging stop, buckets clanking against each other as he turned. Mumbo instinctively took a few steps back. 

"I'm capable of doing this for Ariana." He put, matter-of-factly, in a tone so sharp that it was startling. "In fact, this is quite easy. " Then, more forceful than Mumbo had ever seen with Scar, he held out the buckets. "But if you insist- you can go down to the river to wash these out, and I'll see how Ariana is doing instead."

"Ah-" Mumbo blinked, dumbfounded as Scar pushed the buckets into his hands, and turned around to start heading back. And although at first glance, he looked just fine- despite seeming a bit annoyed about Mumbo's pushing- when Mumbo looked over at him, Scar was flexing his fingers as though to force out the slight trembling. He was walking slower, too, exhaustion evident in the way he'd drift off to one side while walking. 

And then Mumbo remembered that Scar wasn't supposed to go back. "Scar?" He jogged back up to him, stopping just a few paces behind him.

Scar stopped in his tracks, and Mumbo stopped just as quickly. His hands came up to his face, and though Mumbo couldn't see what he was doing from there, it looked like he was rubbing his forehead, then his eyes- and then he dropped his hands back down. He looked over his shoulder, and his gaze was soft.

"That was mean, wasn't it?" When he faced Mumbo, it was with bone-deep tiredness, giving him a smile that looked more like a grimace, and hands nervously playing with each other. “Sorry.” It sounded genuine, even if it was a little stiff. “I’m just… stressed.”

“...” Mumbo nodded a little, to encourage him to continue speaking.

Scar stared at him for a minute, with a strange, calculating look on his face.

Then he sighed. Short, and almost frustrated.

"There's an assassin somewhere in my home. Someone that's likely in my staff, handling my food, and…" He looked down, and shook his head, "I don't know- I'm supposed to house you. My staff are supposed to protect and serve you, and you're supposed to feel comfortable while you're living here, and now… I’m worried about my wife sleeping in her own home."

He held his hands out, and it fell just as quickly.

"That's not on you, Scar. Some people just… slip by, without you noticing."

He scoffed. "Yeah. And I have no way of figuring out who it is. And until I do, there's a killer running around that could hurt you both."

"I'm trained to protect Ariana. She'll be fine."

"You're not by her side right now."

Something about Scar's matter-of-fact tone chilled Mumbo to his core, and made him hesitate, but he pressed, "She's not the one that's worrying me, right now. She's in recovery. And you…"

“Yeah?”

Mumbo’s lips pressed into a thin line.

"I just want you to be okay, Scar." Mumbo invitingly held out one of the buckets- one in his hands, while the other stayed looped around his arm. “Let me come with you.”

He paused at that. His eyes widened, the strained smile falling into a frown. His eyes flew over Mumbo's face- trying to analyze him, and see if he was telling the truth- and looking even more out of it when he couldn’t seem to find anything strange.

Scar cautiously took it. 

“I’d be happy if you came along,” He said, quietly. 

It was as if Mumbo took his entire resolve. Maybe Mumbo would feel bad about it if he didn’t have a mission to fulfill for Grian. And maybe he’d feel worse if he didn’t feel like Scar needed to go about this much slower and more delicately.

And when Scar occasionally bumped his shoulder as they walked down the beaten path, losing balance when he wasn’t watching his feet, Mumbo never pointed it out.

-

Grian remained completely still, and quiet.

To avoid falling back asleep, his eyes were also kept wide open. His hand was reaching under the pillow, gripping the hairpin so tightly that it would likely leave temporary indents on the palm of his hand- and, when even that proved to not be doing much, he touched his thumb to the tip, and the pain from the pinch of it was just enough to keep him awake for a little while longer. Everything was still, quiet, and dark. But Grian wouldn't be fooled. If Mumbo did as he asked, then the killer would likely think that he was asleep, and take the chance while they still could.

And, as it turned out, he didn't have to wait much longer. 

It felt like hours had passed before that door was slowly creaking open- and, suddenly, he wasn’t tired at all anymore. Even with his eyes closed, and even in trying to relax his body, his heart was beating out of his chest. He knew it couldn't have been Mumbo, or Scar- the person wasn't talking when they stepped in. The door opened, and closed just as slowly behind them. Footsteps pressed on, and made their way towards Grian- slow, as if they were purposefully being methodical.

When Grian opened his eyes- keeping them narrowed, but just open enough to see the assassin- his eyes had already been adjusted to the dark. He saw a faint, taller outline of someone he definitely didn't recognize- but judging by what he could see, they looked to be a servant. Or, maybe, they were just dressed like one. Grian didn't know which would make more sense. Either a scorned servant, with some unknown grudge for him, or an assassin that's somehow managed to sneak their way in. (If it was the latter, he wished he could've gotten the chance to ask about where he came from.)

Instead, he waited, and he watched him. And judging by the way the killer moved, he didn't seem to notice Grian's attentiveness- or, maybe, he just didn't care.

Then, Grian's gaze moved down to his hands. The right hand, the one furthest from him, was holding a sharp, pointed object. A knife from the kitchen, most likely. And though Grian was quite confident that the hairpin would work- dense, sitting in some area between sharp enough to pierce the skin, to just dull enough for it to be painful when it did- the knife would be much more effective. 

Slowly, and confidentially, Grian let go of the hairpin. Blood ran down the tip of his thumb, but he paid it no mind- keeping his hand loose, free, and ready to strike.

-

After that small hurdle, Scar seemed to be doing… better. He was less apprehensive as he sat down by the riverside, and easier to talk to when he was washing out the buckets.

Easy to distract, Mumbo found, as Scar set the empty buckets next to him, and instead of heading back to where Grian was, he stayed to talk to Mumbo about the book he was reading while he was recovering. Something that, apparently, was so difficult to translate into any other language besides Elvish, that most scholars didn't even bother to try- but something so important that those same scholars would instead try to learn a new language to understand it.

"Learning how to read it is easy." Scar told him- and the more he spoke, the calmer he sounded. He was leaning against his hands, staring up at the sky as he spoke- legs kicking off the edge of where they were sitting, and just barely missing the water below them. At peace, and with Grian completely gone from his mind. "Speaking it is difficult. Pronunciations are a little… different."

"And it's- a religious text?"

"Yes. My family is more invested- but it's long, and it'll keep my attention. It’s a very good distraction, to pass the time."

"What is it called?" And, when Scar gave him the title, he winced. 

"I can show you how it's written later."

Mumbo frowned.

"How was your name pronounced, again?" Scar smiled, and the same mash of syllables that left his mother's mouth- more pleasing to the ear coming out of his mouth, he found- he blanked. "But where did… Scar come from?"

Scar paused. Then, with a small smile, he quietly tapped at his cheek- finger pressing against a scar that was passing through it. "It's not a recent nickname. But it's easier to pronounce, for people like you and Ariana."

Mumbo wondered where those scars came from- how recent they were, even if they looked fully healed over by now.

"I'm sure we'll learn it, eventually." He said, noncommittally.

"You don't have to."

"Well, you know how to pronounce our names. It's probably more than fair."

Scar looked back at their path.

Then, slowly, he started to stand up. "Let's head back."

It's been close to an hour now. "Yeah, sure."

Mumbo had been trying not to keep a close eye on the time. Instead, he'd been looking, and trying to sound interested in whatever Scar was talking about- because it was interesting, even if Mumbo wasn't fully following- but his nerves got to him. All he could think about was Grian. Wondering how Grian was doing, if Grian fell asleep after Mumbo left, or if Grian had managed to kill the person that was after him.

There were points throughout the conversation where he'd zone out for just a little too long, with his mind assuming the worst.

Do you trust me?- Grian had asked him.

And yes, he did. He really, really did. But it was so hard not to worry. And now that the two of them were walking back- Scar carrying the buckets, and Mumbo holding with the lantern- the anxiety was only amping up further. 

When they made it back to the manor, Mumbo moved without thinking. His hand came up to rub up and down Scar's arm absentmindedly, as he said, "Get some rest. I'll keep an eye on her."

And Scar didn't seem opposed to it. He nodded, muttering something about being tired, and handed off the buckets to him. Then he headed towards his room, and Mumbo watched him walk away until he turned the corner.

The walk to Grian’s room was slow. The heel of his shoes quietly clicked against the ground as he approached the door- and he only hesitated for a second before he turned the knob, and finally walked inside. (There was only so long he could spend stalling before he could finally face what he'd been dreading, after all.)

The minute Mumbo walked through the door again, he could immediately tell something was wrong. 

Or, maybe that was just the anxiety- because everything looked fine on the surface. Grian was still in bed, with the covers drawn up and close to his face. Even though he was in a different position, it's likely that he was just bored from waiting for so long, and turned over to get more comfortable. Nothing seemed out of place at all.

"G." He said, quietly, going through the motions of slipping his shoes off, and putting the lanterns and buckets down. "It's just me."

The sound of Grian's voice made Mumbo jump.

"There's a man in my wardrobe." He said, cutting through the silence like a hot knife cutting through butter. Deadpanned, and stated so casually that it didn't sound like he was worried at all.

And for a single, horrifying moment, Mumbo thought that he was saying that there was an alive man in his wardrobe- sitting there, and possibly listening in on their conversation. Mumbo's head snapped over to look at the wardrobe. The doors were closed, and didn't have a way for anyone on the inside to look out at them- but it was only as he looked over when he saw that there was something wedged into the handles to prevent it from opening again.

Clearly, if someone was in there, they wouldn't be able to get out anytime soon without help.

"What!?"

"Someone tried to kill me! I told you, they were going to be after me once they realized that I was recovering- and I told you that I could take them! There’s not a single scratch on me!"

"And now-?"

The blanket shifted.

"He's dead."

Grian sat up, leaning against his hands, and revealed the aftermath of the run-in. 

He was almost completely covered in blood. It splattered across his face and across the front of his nightgown, congregating mostly near his neck, but trailing down to the blankets pooling around his waist. It was quite easy to see how this man had been killed- or, at least, where he’d been killed. But that wasn’t where Mumbo was paying much attention to.

His eyes were fixed on Grian’s neck, near his chest, where most of the blood didn't seem close to drying up. It stained the front of his nightgown, and flowed down as he sat up. Fresh. Then he looked up at Grian’s face, seeing that his sights were focused on Mumbo, but he looked slightly dazed, and-

The sight of it froze Mumbo to his core. Grian blinked slowly.

"What?"

It was just the anxiety, Mumbo told himself. The slow, buried feeling rising up in his chest was only happening because he'd been previously worried about Grian for over an hour- longer, if you counted the time before it. It was just anxiety piled on top of anxiety, and it was only painful because he was acknowledging it-

“You look...” He managed, and left it like that when he realized that his voice was almost too quiet to pick up on.

The comment, though unfinished, was understood immediately, and seemed to shock Grian into action. After taking a moment to look down at himself, his eyebrows raised, and he started rubbing away at the blood on his face with the sleeve of his nightgown. His eyes, then, seemed to be a lot more aware of what was going on- even if it was clear that he was still sick, and still slightly dazed.

"Well- Mumbo!" His voice cracked a little, "We need to focus! I can't just- explain all of this away!" But when Mumbo didn't immediately move, Grian kept pressing, "Mumbo! There's a body in my wardrobe-!"

"Yes." And, maybe, having a dead body in Grian's wardrobe shouldn't have been the thing that calmed him down, slightly- but it had. There was a body. He had to do his job. "Right." He turned to the wardrobe. "Let's get this out of the way."

Grian seemed to sigh in relief.

"I can distract Scar if you're willing to get rid of the body."

"You're the one that killed him." But Mumbo, all too used to the routine, was already trying to get the wedge out from between the handles.

There was, indeed, a body in the closet. One that was tall, and wearing the servant's uniform- curled up, and shoved into the wardrobe. He barely fit. And, in examining him, he can see that Grian went slightly overkill, and it'd resulted in a messy death. As Mumbo grabbed his legs, and pulled him out, there was a sickening gurgling sound, and a trail of blood that was left in the wardrobe as he was being dragged out of it.

"I'm sick." Then, after coughing weakly, Grian started to sink into his bed again. Mumbo turned his head further, so he couldn't even see Grian in his peripheral vision. "I'm sick, Mumbo, and my arms are so, so weak- and- I'm the victim, here! I was the one attacked!"

It would've been much more believable if Grian hadn't just taken down someone that was at least a head taller than him. It also would've been more believable if Grian hadn't pulled the same excuse over a million times before. He could kill people just fine, and he was more than capable of handling himself- but when it came to the tedious things like where to put the body, or where to hide the weapons, or how to handle the evidence so it couldn't lead back to them, he folded. 

Suddenly, his arms were weak, and void of any muscle he was building up. Suddenly, he wasn't competent at all, and talking about how Mumbo was far more suited for that sort of work. (And at the same time, if Mumbo didn't do it in a way he liked, he'd be hearing his complaints about it for the next hour. But, since it happened over a million times over, that also meant that Mumbo let it happen over a million times. 

Grian was actually sick this time- and, well… Mumbo has relented over less.)

He sighed. 

He looked down at the body. The knife used- likely, the one the killer came in with- was still uncomfortably set in his chest, and that visual was not helping him in the slightest. And then he looked at the wardrobe, which also had a lot of blood in it- both on the clothes, and at the bottom. It would’ve been impossible to hide.

"We can just say that… you were attacked by an assassin, and…" He moved his hand to gesture, “I pushed him into the wardrobe, and stabbed him with his own weapon...”

"We aren't hiding it?"

"We can't- and, won't Scar be happy to hear that the assassin is dead, now? Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Just- lay down." Grian did so with a light thwomp, and Mumbo didn't pay too much attention to his appearance, "Look sick and miserable-" Which, to be fair, wouldn't be too difficult. "-and… I don't know. Look scared, or something."

Then, Mumbo crouched near the body, and slowly started to take out the knife from his chest.

"Do you think I could've slept through this?" Grian asked from the bed.

"No."

-

Mumbo liked to give credit where credit was due. 

When Grian took things seriously, however rare the occurrence may be, he was good at putting up an act.

Scar believed everything Mumbo told him, when he managed to catch up with him. Even if most of the blood was hidden in the wardrobe, and covering the bed instead of being on the man who had supposedly taken the attacker out. Even if the scene was a little strange.

Mumbo made up the tale that the assassin must've gotten in when they weren't looking. They were a servant and, with the barest trust the servants had amongst each other, they probably convinced the servant standing guard that they needed to step aside for a second. They easily gained access to the room, and just managed to get caught before they could do something to Ariana. He valiantly threw himself at the assailant, and used the knife that would've killed Ariana to kill the assassin instead. And, in the frantic process, a mess had been made. But the perpetrator had been killed, and Mumbo made sure to rush out just in time.

(He kept one arm around Grian as they were leaving the room, and helped him out of bed. The point was to get into character, and make it seem like he was trying to lead her highness away from the body, and avoiding traumatizing her further- but, in the process of leaving the bed, Grian had tripped over a blanket left tossed to the side, and the two of them almost came crashing into the wall. It, for a moment, made the two of them break character- Grian breaking his planned, shocked expression to laugh a little.

"Here-" He'd taken off his long coat, and put it over Grian's shoulders. Then, he helped him upright again, and continued.

"You're such a gentleman." Grian snickered. His face and neck, at that point, was cleared of blood- only staining parts of his clothes, so that it looked less like he was the one committing the murder, and more like someone that just got caught in an unfortunate crossfire.

And the minute the door was open, Grian was helped to the ground with a shell-shocked expression on his face, and Mumbo was running to try and catch Scar again, and tell him everything that's just happened. There was a lot of blood covering the front of his shirt, and he probably seemed frantic enough to make it believable. 

Some part of him felt bad for telling Scar that he could get some rest, and then immediately throwing him into some planned drama. Some other part of him realized that a sleep-deprived Scar was exactly what they needed for this- someone that wasn't too analytical, and likely willing to believe just about anything they told him.)

And when Scar was at Grian's side- doting on him, asking him if he was okay, or if there was anything else he needed- Grian played the perfect damsel in distress. He was good at playing the sad, traumatized woman that was recovering from a poison that should've killed her, and just barely managed to escape getting killed again. He was shaking, eyes unable to meet anyone else's, and he was keeping his attention occupied by his thumb rubbing circles into his other hand- all while giving a choked-up statement about what happened, from his perspective. How he just barely noticed someone was in his room- and that, if Mumbo hadn't been there, he likely would've died.

He stuttered as he spoke, but not too much- just to the point where it'd be believable. And when Scar tried putting his arm over him, he flinched before he let him do so, and even seemed to lean into it, like he needed the comfort that he was giving him. All the while, Mumbo had to keep himself from rolling his eyes so far into the back of his head that it would hurt to do so. It was a hard performance to take seriously when Mumbo knew that, if he could, he'd be giving him that ear-to-ear grin he'd make whenever he was being cocky about something. 

He almost did, as well. As Scar pulled him into a hug, and as Grian leaned into it, half of Grian's face was covered by the elf's shoulder- but Mumbo could tell from the way he looked at him, eyebrows raised, that he was definitely proud of himself. In return, Mumbo's smile was strained, and ready to drop at a moment's notice. 

"Your room must be a mess." Scar said, finally, and Grian nodded weakly against his shoulder, otherwise remaining still.

"The servant, um- put up a good fight." Mumbo said awkwardly, causing Scar to look back at him, and-

The elf looked distraught. Mumbo’s face fell and, in record time, any and all boredom he felt through watching Grian's performance was immediately washed over with a new feeling. It was a pain that started in his stomach, settling there before it made its way up his throat. His expression must've changed without him realizing it. Because, as his eyes moved away, he saw that Grian was watching him intently over Scar’s shoulder. Eyes wide open, expression blank, and head slowly tilting to the side as he took him in. It was a look he hasn't seen in a long, long time. 

Grian was seeing something that Mumbo couldn't. 

Then, slowly, Grian's eyes shut, and his expression changed again. He sat up, and leaned away from Scar. Scar's attention was on him immediately, cupping Grian's cheek, and going back to doting on him. Grian soaked up the attention, and Mumbo only took a moment to orient himself again.

"You two can sleep in my room for the night. Or, until we can get your room cleaned. I think it'd be safer if we all stayed in one place tonight."

And, because Grian wasn't immediately protesting it, Mumbo nodded in agreement.

"I'll grab Ariana's things-"

"You don't have to. My guard is on his way, to take care of it-" Scar said, but Mumbo was already opening the door again, and stepping inside.

The room was messy, just as they'd left it- evidence of a struggle, and a body to prove it, looking like the perfect crime scene.

Mumbo spent the next few minutes gathering what he could. Clothes that weren't bloodstained, the hairpin still carefully kept under the pillow- the loads of jewelry that Grian kept enclosed in his suitcase, and hidden under the bed, for some reason- and he left with a heavy case in one hand, with a couple nightgowns in the other.

When he walked out, the two of them were already standing up, and waiting for him. And when they walked to Scar's room, Scar had his arm around Grian the entire time.

-

There was a blanket on Scar's bed that had cats embroidered on it. 

Jellie, and the other cat pandas specifically- and Mumbo had the sneaking suspicion that this was yet another thing that Scar had made- but other than that, Grian seemed to be taking no sort of issue with Scar's room. (His demeanor was a lot calmer, Mumbo noticed- but Scar wasn't paying much attention to them anymore. He was, instead, more worried about making his room look presentable, since he didn't have the chance to clean it as he was caring for Grian.)

After pressing down on the bed, hands carefully avoiding the cats, Grian stated that the bed itself was comfortable enough for him to sleep in, and that he knew that it was definitely big enough to fit the three of them- even if it’d be a little cramped. 

But when Scar suggested that Grian should sleep in the middle, just in case anyone made another attempt on his life, Grian was listing off the different reasons why it was a bad idea. For the whole situation, Grian had to pretend like he was picky about where he slept- like he hadn't spent the earlier years of his life sleeping on the streets, and that he could be disturbed and restless from something as small as a pea being stuck under the bottom of his mattress. He needed extra blankets, and pillows- and he couldn't possibly sleep in the middle because what if he needed to get up in the middle of the night? What was he to do- climb over one of them, and disturb them? Trip over them on his way out?

Then, Scar offered to sleep in the middle instead, and Grian started to get insistent. He mentioned that he and Mumbo had shared a bed many times before, and he said that he kicked and moved around in his sleep a lot, and that he was sure that Mumbo was the only one that could handle it. Plus, since Mumbo was the heaviest sleeper (which he wasn't, not by a long shot), why should he have to sleep on the sides? What if he doesn't wake up to any danger, and the whole thing is pointless?

In the end, it was Mumbo in the middle, with the other two at his side. All this arguing, just so Grian could avoid having to sleep next to Scar.

To be fair, he could understand why. Grian was right about him moving around a lot in his sleep. Even on nights where they weren't trying to conserve heat, Mumbo would usually wake to Grian curled in on himself, or wrapping his arms around him, grip tight despite him being completely asleep. If Grian were the one in the middle, Scar could very well be on the receiving end of that. And while it wouldn't really be the end of the world, it was still something that Grian was trying to avoid, so Mumbo respected his wishes.

Everyone got ready for bed separately. Mumbo and Grian were the first ones ready, since the routine was a lot more simple now. Grian switched out of his bloodstained nightgown- using it to wipe off a lot of the blood that was still on him- and Mumbo easily dressed down, and switched out of his own bloodstained shirt. The minute the two of them laid down, and got under the covers, they both let out sighs of relief in unison. Mumbo didn't have to look over to know that they were both thinking the same thing- this bed was a lot more comfortable than the bed in their new room. They could get used to this.

Once we're rich- he could already hear Grian saying, their mantra since taking on the job in the first place- we can have all of this and more.

And if Scar weren't entering the room, dressed in robes and tying his hair up- Mumbo knew that Grian would've been talking his ear off about it. About how they could get a mattress similar to this one, or a better one after this job was done- or maybe talking about how they could get the blankets he was using, seeing out of the corner of his eye that Grian hadn't stopped rubbing the fabric between pinched fingers ever since lying down in it. Mumbo didn't get the appeal of the blankets, personally, but once they were rich, they could have their own rooms, and decorate it however they wanted.

The mattress sank slightly when Scar sat on it, and Mumbo could hear the sound of him slowly taking off his slippers and leaving them right by the bed. Grian shuffled to turn away from the two of them, and presumably drift off to sleep. 

Mumbo closed his eyes, and remained still to act like the line between the two of them.

-

Mumbo didn't immediately fall asleep.

Despite being just about exhausted as Scar looked, he only rested his eyelids for about an hour before he was fully awake again, and stuck staring up at the ceiling.

Grian was, as expected to be, clinging onto him- one arm wrapped lazily around his torso, laying on his stomach for the first time in days, and sleeping like a baby. At some point, when the position started grow uncomfortable, Mumbo tried shifting around, and changing his position a bit-

Grian grumbled in his sleep, but otherwise didn't move much.

Mumbo let out a quiet sigh.

"Mumbo?" The sound of Scar's voice startled him, slightly. It was next to him, close, and as he looked over, he noticed that Scar was turned on his side, and looking at him with a strange look on his face.

"You're still awake?"

"I couldn't sleep." His voice was quiet.

Mumbo's eyes trailed away. 

"Yeah. Me neither."

The person that tried to kill Grian was dead, and they got away with saying that Mumbo was the one to kill him. Realistically, they were in the clear now. But there was still something off. Some feeling he couldn't shake off. 

And, instead of sleeping the night away, he was left staying awake, and waiting for it to pass.

"Are you okay?"

"Hm?"

It was hard to see Scar, with the lack of light in the room- but when he looked over, his eyes had adjusted enough to see him frowning. "Are you okay?" Scar repeated. "I know the whole confrontation really freaked Ariana out, since she was the one that got attacked… but I never got the chance to ask you." 

Mumbo, slightly touched by the concern, was left shuffling around in the bed to face Scar. Grian moved with him with little to no complaint. "Uh- yeah. It's nothing I'm not used to. I'm okay."

"It's not your fault that she was attacked." If Mumbo had it his way, the servant never would've had the opportunity to try. "You asked someone to watch the door, right-?"

"I don't think the person I asked was complicit." Scar's frown deepened, "It's just a mistake that I won't repeat. You don't have to worry about it."

Then, slowly, Scar put his hand on Mumbo's cheek. His thumb gently brushed the side of his face, swiping just under his eye.

"I want you to be okay too." He admitted quietly.

Mumbo's breath constricted for a second, but he knew that it wasn't just from what Scar said. 

Grian's grip on him- the once loose, casual arm wrapped around his chest- had suddenly gotten tighter after Scar said that. Mumbo knew that he was awake, in an instant- the sort of pressure being applied wasn't just something he did in his sleep, or just a stretch of some kind. It was subtle, and intended to be. Scar must not have noticed, since he kept his eyes entirely on Mumbo’s.

"I'm okay." He said, and his voice sounded surprisingly steady, despite it. 

-

When Mumbo fell asleep that night, he had a strange dream.

He was dressed up, and wandering around in Scar's ballroom- panicking, even before he knew what the problem was, and wandering around the large room in search of the woman he came there with tonight. 

And, even as he spotted her, it did nothing to alleviate his anxiety.

She was an amalgamation of a deep, subconscious fear that he hadn't acknowledged in years. She had long, blonde hair that curled and reached well past her shoulders. She had a wonderful, bright pink dress with white accents- as per her usual color scheme- along with a lot of golden jewelry on her wrists. There was also a lovely pearl necklace wrapping twice around her neck, and hugging it just tightly enough to be comfortable. As she walked, the sound of heels clicking against the floor followed her- revealing slow, elegant steps.

There was, more notably, a sheet on her head. Or, something that looked to be a sheet- white, covering her head, and stopping somewhere just below her chin- reminding Mumbo of a traditional wedding veil that he's seen at other weddings. There was no context for why it was there in the first place, when they were in the middle of a ballroom, seemingly enjoying a party together. It was just there. 

But the most jarring thing about her, by far, was her proportions. She was dressed normally despite the veil, but the outfit sat on a pale, emaciated body. She was boney, and standing a little taller than she was supposed to- and when Mumbo looked at her further, he realized that she was only standing taller because of her neck- it was taller than it was supposed to be, as if it'd been stretched out. From a distance, by all means, she might've looked normal- but standing so close to her, Mumbo was overwhelmed with nerves. 

And in the dream, because it was a dream, Mumbo already knew everything he needed to know about her. Despite appearing as something less than human, she was supposed to be completely normal.

The woman's name was Ariana. And to everyone but him, she looked completely normal. As Mumbo trailed behind her- intent on guarding her every move- she would walk up to some of the guests, and it seemed like she wanted to speak with them. Instead, her head and the cloth would tilt, and no words would come out of her mouth. Her voice sounded dry- as if she opened her mouth to speak, and the only thing coming out of it was a groan in a long, uninterrupted breath.

But the guests responded each and every time with enthusiastic words, and tones. Mumbo could hear her breathing uncomfortably loud- struggling with some breaths, obviously breathing through her mouth instead of her nose- and quietly groaning as some sort of parting gesture when the guest would leave, as if she was actually understandable.

The majority of the dream sort of played out like that. Acting as a quiet, stationary bodyguard for a ghoulish princess. She'd direct some of it towards him, too- and because his brain was trying to convince him that it was a normal scenario, he knew what she was trying to say whenever she spoke with him. She'd want food, but wouldn't eat it. She'd want him to announce her presence to a certain guest, just to groan and breathe through another one-sided conversation- and, at one point, she wanted something to drink. Something in his mind told him that she shouldn't be having a drink, but he couldn't pinpoint why she shouldn't be drinking. She hasn't been drinking at all tonight. She was certainly old enough to- and, if she hadn't been, that was no excuse to deny her.

So, as soon as she asked, pointing a long, crooked finger over toward some of the buffet tables, Mumbo quickly obliged, easily cutting through the crowd to provide her with a bubbling drink in a small, angular glass. She took it, but she didn't drink it, opting to hold it in her hand, and instead look elegant with it. She swished it around plenty of times, as she moved through the party, but she didn't touch it once. 

She seemed satisfied- but Mumbo could never tell with her, even with her face uncovered.

He imagined pretty easily what her face would've looked like. Stern, watching the rest of the guests walk around and chat with furrowed eyebrows. All night, she's been approaching them, and asking them how their night was- but not a single one of them asked her in turn. It was like they were intentionally avoiding her, ducking out of the way to avoid being trapped in a conversation- or, maybe, that's just what she would say. Ever insecure, and ever wondering what the problem was, when it would likely lead straight back to her.

Mumbo didn't say a word, as she surveyed the crowd.

Then, suddenly, the glass was being shoved towards him- spilling across the front of his uniform, and nearly breaking upon the sudden impact. Mumbo took it, and set it down on a tray of drinks- the other servant seemingly appearing out of nowhere, dipping down to collect the glass, and later disappearing in the thick of the crowd.

Ariana turned to look at him, held out her gloved hand, and Mumbo already knew that his lady was asking him to dance with her. And though he didn't want to, he still took her hand, and he let her lead him through the crowd. Some made way for them, as they walked- and if Mumbo could see her face, he knew that she'd be smirking.

Then they danced, and every moment of it was horrible.

Mumbo didn't know how to dance very well. She did, but she still managed to step on his foot every opportunity she got to do so, digging her heels into the base of his toes, and leaving him to grunt, but otherwise trying to show no signs of pain. It felt intentional. It wasn't endearing, or fun, and Mumbo spent the whole dance with an aching feeling gnawing at his chest- as if he were missing something. It wasn't just hatred, or disgust- but something else he couldn't quite name, and likely never could name.

Mumbo had never been very in touch with his own feelings, after all. But he knew, at the base of everything, that he did not want to be there.

Then, as the music slowed, she laid her head against Mumbo's chest, and he tried not to pull back from it. They rocked in place. Mumbo tried to ignore the feeling of her head, leaving that area of his skin crawling, like there were bugs suddenly running away from it under his uniform. And although she was dancing just fine with him, once her head laid against his chest, he got the vivid image of a rotten apple in his mind- the skin soft, and if you were to press on it it would leave an indent. It was as if he was scared of her pressing too hard, and bruising her head.

Are you enjoying yourself?- she'd ask, if she could actually speak, but Mumbo understood what she was trying to ask, nonetheless.

"No." He admitted quietly.

She shoved him away. 

And when he fell, she laughed at him.

It sounded… gross. Like she was coughing up a lung, instead of actually laughing. But people around her joined in the laughing anyway. When Mumbo’s eyes trailed up far enough, he saw that the painting in Scar’s dining room- the one of the lady, laughing by the fountain- was painted on the ceiling of the ballroom, and moving- possibly joining in on the laughter. The room felt like it was growing smaller.

And as she stepped closer to him, the veil covering her head lifted just enough for Mumbo to see the lower part of her rotten mouth-

-

Then, Mumbo woke up with a start.

There was laughter still in his ears, and the air in his lungs entering in staccato beats- short and quick, and without any reprieve from the dream he just had that was quickly fading from his mind. He felt light-headed enough to pass right out again- but too panicked to actually do it. And for a moment, he thought that he couldn't breathe because of that panic. That it was chasing him out into the waking world and still haunting him- but belatedly, he realized that there was a heavy body laying on his chest.

It was a relief at first- the realization that his plight was orchestrated by no internal confusing emotion, but by something external that was easy to understand. He pressed his face into the hair that was tickling his nose, and his arms- that were curled tightly around the warm body even before he woke up- brushed up against skin and cloth, leading his fingers along something he assumed was a spine. His eyes closed. Now that he knew there was someone laying on top of him, it was easier to breathe around it and fall back asleep.

Then his eyes ripped open.

Grian was not heavy like this.

He flailed in bed for a moment, pushing at a shoulder, and keeping desperately quiet as the body rolled over. After the short, one-sided scuffle, he laid his eyes onto Scar's face- peacefully sleeping, and laying contently on his back after Mumbo shoved him away. Mumbo slapped a hand over his mouth, still fighting to be completely silent. His heart was beating out of his chest for a completely different reason now, and he bit down on the base of his palm for a second to calm down.

He took a deep breath, and his shoulders collapsed onto the bed.

His eyes stayed on Scar for a bit longer. He was finally sleeping (after who knows how long), and Mumbo felt a strange buzzing between his ears at the thought. With a twitchy smile, he pulled out the blanket from under Scar's body, and properly threw it over him again, quickly tucking in the sides. Before laying down, he raised the blanket just a bit higher, so he was drowning in it- all the way up to his neck, leaving only his head poking out, exhaustion lifting from his face as he was getting that needed rest. He fell back into the mattress. For a moment, he watched Scar's profile, a stroke of his nose illuminated by the moonlight- sloping down to his cheek, and the thin skin below his eye.

And then, fully intending not to relive that same strange situation again, holding onto Scar as if they were familiar with each other- (something that was easy with Grian, because- just because. Because it was Grian, and because he was Mumbo)- so, to avoid that entirely, he turned onto his other side, intending to curl up into his blanket and pillow, and go right back to sleep- hopefully, without any dreams this time.

A pair of open eyes met his eyes instead. 

He recoiled with a shriek, scrambling back, and pressing against Scar's body. Scar didn't even move in his sleep.

"Grian!" He whisper-yelled.

Grian's head was propped up on his hand. The lack of sleepiness in his eyes implied that he had been awake for a while now, and Mumbo's mouth pulled into a frown at the idea of being watched without noticing. 

"You talk in your sleep." Grian smiled, full of mirth. His fingers were picking at the sheets on the bed absentmindedly. 

"Grian-" He repeated, now a lot less shocked and a lot more resigned. "Good morning."

"Good morning, buddy."

"Why are you awake?" Mumbo asked, removing himself a bit further from Scar and scooting closer to Grian. 

"You were moving around a lot more than usual."

Mumbo raised his eyebrow in confusion. "You're such a deep sleeper, though?" Mumbo could literally be banging pots and pans next to Grian’s head while he was asleep, and the man would barely twitch. Usually.

The words made Grian pause, and he lazily blinked at him. "I wasn't always."

"Huh?"

"I wasn't always a deep sleeper." And then, like he didn't care for the conversation all that much, he continued, "Did you dream of something?" 

Mumbo pulled his lips into a thin line. "No."

It was obviously not very convincing. Grian leaned in closer. "What was it about?"

"I was being chased by Jellie," He lied easily enough.

Not good enough to fool Grian, evident by his dissatisfied frown. "What was it really about?" 

"I don't know, man." He laid down, flat on his back. It pushed out a sigh from his lungs, and Grian watched him with a much more sympathetic expression. "It wasn't pleasant, but I don't really remember it." It was closer to the truth, but still not quite there. And as much as Mumbo felt terribly nostalgic about knowing Grian for more than a decade, that also meant that he could not get away with lying- Grian would always know.

Instead of inquiring, his expression was suddenly, carefully blank. He was staring down at Mumbo with big eyes, pupils blown wide from the darkness, and he didn't move an inch. "You didn't dream about me, did you?"

His eyes flickered to Mumbo's chest, and he put his hand where his heart was- now significantly calmer than when he just woke up, but what was implied was obvious.

"No." Mumbo shook his head. "Grian, why would you think that?"

His fingers dug into the front of his shirt and the expression on his face was wholly unfamiliar. It made Mumbo uneasy, putting his hand over Grian's, and making his fingers relax.

"I didn't- think that, I was-" He pulled the hand away, hiding his eyes for the shortest moment before coming up to look at Mumbo again. "Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?"

And then, thankfully, Grian looked more like himself- mischievous smile, with an eyebrow raised. "Who was cuddling with my husband just now?"

"Cuddling?" Mumbo huffed, and he was thankful for how dark it was. His face felt hot, and his voice pitched just a bit higher than it needed to be. "He was smothering me."

"I think his intent was wildly different."

Mumbo thought his face could not look any more displeased. "What intent? He rolled over, and couldn't distinguish me from the mattress."

"No, I mean like…" Grian opened his eyes wider for a fraction of a second, trying to imply something as he tilted his head towards Scar. "He did it on purpose."

"...okay?"

Grian gave him a look.

"Why am I the smart one here?" He asked. With a quick hand, he flicked his finger against Mumbo's forehead.

He rubbed his forehead, and after he removed his hand, Grian took its position, hand laying over his eyebrows, his thumb occasionally swiping over his hairline. "Yes, yes, you're so smart and I'm not. Can you just tell me what you mean?"

He moved his hand to the side of Mumbo's face, covering half of his ear and leaned down over his body, to whisper into the ear that was uncovered. He laid down, and rested his chin against Mumbo's shoulder. "I have the feeling that Scar isn't all that interested in me." He put it a little more plainly, now pressing the tip of his finger against Mumbo's chest. In his wait for Mumbo to answer, he exhaled slowly, warm air blowing against the side of his face.

"...I'm sure he likes you just fine."

Grian snorted, lifting himself back up to look into Mumbo's eyes, elbow leaning on his chest as he watched his face with a hand on his cheek. "Oh, sure. He's sweet. But if he had to pick between the two of us, I bet he would've picked you in an instant."

Mumbo blinked very suddenly. "What?" He felt his body go cold.

"What?"

"What do you mean-?"

Grian looked downright amused. When he talked, it was slow, punctuating nearly every word. "From the day we first met him, he was looking at you- just you- with those pretty little eyes of his." He leaned forward, and the elbow digging into his chest was slightly uncomfortable. "He likes you."

He shook his head, over and over- Scar was taking care of Grian so carefully, losing sleep, holding him close once the assassin was dead, and obviously wanting Grian to be okay- "Why didn't he choose me from the beginning, then? He proposed to you."

"You weren't an option."

And then, the images of Scar and Grian were replaced with the scene at the wedding- Scar holding his hand out for Mumbo, dancing with him, even if Mumbo kept telling him it was taboo, and even if the rain kept pouring down in buckets.

He thought of a hand on his cheek, and hushed words. I want you to be okay too.

"He's married to you," Mumbo reiterated quietly, as if it would change any of the realizations he was having.

"And I don't think he ever wanted me, or Ariana, or anything like that."

I wish I hadn't married her.  

Mumbo dug his nails into the palm of his hand. Was it that obvious? Was Scar coming onto him this entire time, and he'd been walking right past it, oblivious to it all? It was so embarrassing, and he grit his teeth at the thought- immediately he wanted to get up and go somewhere cold, maybe dunk his head in the river, maybe even get this entire job over and done with so they can just escape that stupid mansion, but Grian wasn't making any moves, and-

"Wait." Mumbo still felt embarrassed, but he pulled his hands off his eyes. "How is this relevant?"

"How is this relevant? How is it- Mumbo, are you even considering the possibilities?" Grian sounded excited, quietly whispering into the space between them. "He's looking at you with rose tinted glasses- you could show up with a knife in his room and he'd ask you if you baked a cake-!"

"Grian." He hissed, harshly.

He knew what Grian was trying to imply, and he didn't like it.

Because, despite working as an assassin for the better part of his life, Mumbo's never… killed a target before. (He's killed someone before, but that was a long time ago- long before he and Grian took on jobs like these. And it was entirely different.)

He knew how to hide a body, and get rid of the evidence- it was why he and Grian worked so well together, in tandem. Grian killed their target, and Mumbo dealt with what came next, and helped them get off scot-free. Sometimes, he's even dealt with the part that comes before that. He's restrained, beaten, and incapacitated targets. He's stalked, and he's led Grian in the direction he needed to go to. He's competent, and despite not killing anyone, there was a reason why he was still in this business, and still working alongside Grian. Xelqua, the famous assassin that's almost been caught, but always manages to escape.

He figured, if he ever needed to- if there was someone that couldn't keep their mouth shut, or if their target was on the move, and they could be exposed- he could probably kill again. Even as most of his attacks moved to maim instead of murder.

But this was different.

"What?" Grian said, with some laughter in his voice.

"Not here." Mumbo muttered quietly.

"He's not even awake." And one look confirmed it. Scar was deeply asleep, still comfortably wrapped up in his own blanket, and with his mouth slightly parted and pressed against the pillow. He hadn't moved, even when Mumbo screamed. The stress from the whole week was likely taking its toll on him.

Grian leaned over to confirm it anyway- quietly pinching Scar’s nose, and moving his face around. But when Scar didn’t react, Mumbo shooed him away.

"We can always talk about it later." Mumbo pressed, and Grian pouted, and slowly drew back from him. He was laying down, eyes shut, and though he was close to him, there was still some space between them. "Let's just get some rest- aren't you still recovering?"

Grian hummed.

"It's just an option." He said, casually, "I think it's a great idea."

"I know."

Conversation ended there. And, instead of going back to sleep right away, Mumbo went back to staring back up at the ceiling.

He didn't get much sleep that night.

Chapter Text

(Mumbo was 14.

The morning dew soaked through his shoes. It made him silently uncomfortable for the rest of the trip, walking up a slight hill with two baskets in hand. His shoulders were aching.

She was laughing, though, running up ahead before letting Mumbo catch up with her again. Then, she turned, walking backward and grinning at Mumbo.

"Are you excited for summer?"

Mumbo's eyes flickered up, and he knew that he was frowning from exertion. He willed it into something neutral, and processed the question.

He was not excited for summer. He had to wear his heavy servant's garb while running around, and summer always meant more visitors, and more work. Still, she was happy, it seemed, so he nodded. "It'll be nice to spend time in the sun."

She stopped in her tracks. "Right here."

He stopped as well, almost running into her. The grass was reaching up to his calves. The picnic blanket would get completely soaked from it. He spotted a dry, less grassy spot not far from there, and so he nodded, and walked towards it with conviction.

He quickly spread out the blanket before she could disagree or complain, and patted it down flat on the floor. Some spots still got wet, but it wasn't anything dramatic. He placed a flat pillow on one side, and then started taking out the food.

"I don't want to sit in the mud."

She was standing behind him as he was kneeling on the blanket. He moved his head to keep her in his periphery. "The grass is very wet."

"So?" She stepped closer, and Mumbo quickly sat down properly to not have his back turned to her.

"The blanket will get soaked. And insects could be hiding in the denser grass."

At the mention of insects, she finally relented, giving Mumbo a horrified gasp. She hurried over to the pillow, pulling her jacket closer over herself as if it'd save her from any bugs that'd be lingering nearby. Still, elegantly, she kneeled and folded her hands in her lap, and waited for Mumbo to prepare the food.

Carefully wrapped in a towel was a stew, still warm, and the smell wafting through the air. With a ladle, he poured it into a small bowl, put it on a tray, and cut off three slices from a freshly baked loaf of bread. It was soft inside and Mumbo spread them across the tray as well. He wrapped the pot and bread back up, hiding it securely back in the first basket, and then glanced inside the second one- and he couldn't help but stare longingly at the dessert. Like everything else, it was fresh. A strawberry cake, beautifully made and probably even better tasting than looking.

He quickly closed the basket again. She had been in a good mood today, so maybe she'll share something. Instead of hanging up on it and hoping, he placed the tray in front of her, with a spoon on the bowl’s side. "It shouldn't be hot, but be careful." And with that, he brought out some napkins that she carefully placed on her lap.

She lifted the bowl with one hand and dipped her spoon in, carefully. It was never too overfilled, and the napkin on her lap stayed stainless. Mumbo watched her steady hand for a bit, and then moved to look at the view instead. Their mansion looked just as massive from here as it did up close, and Mumbo watched how far the property stretched. The border was lined by a large metal fence, signifying to outsiders that they had the money to keep anyone out.

"Are you hungry?" She asked suddenly. 

Mumbo turned his head back to her. She had an eyebrow raised, bowl lowered to her lap. It felt like a trick question, and he knew that he had to answer right. He tried keeping it as neutral as possible. "The walk up the hill was slightly tedious."

She cracked a smile. Mumbo didn't know what that meant for him. "Come closer."

Hesitantly, he scooted up to her, eyes desperately avoiding hers. His palms felt clammy, and he subtly rubbed them on his vest. When he stopped, she motioned him to come even closer, not relenting until they were sitting knee to knee. She broke off some bread from the slice, and dipped it into the stew- bringing it up with some peas and dill. She held it up to his mouth, another hand beneath it to catch the mess it was making.

When he lifted his hand to reach for it, she swatted it away. So, hesitantly, he opened his mouth instead.

She laughed as she fed him the bread, parts of the stew dripping down her hand and his chin. She immediately tore off another piece of bread, repeating the motions. It tasted nice. Mumbo's hands lay motionless by his side, trembling slightly.

"You know that brunette girl that came over a week ago? The ugly one."

He nodded slowly, mouth still full of food. Her father knew a man he considered his best friend, and that man had a daughter- the two should get along, that's what he was told, and though their surface interactions seemed polite and friendly, maybe even close at some points- the moment they turned to look somewhere else, their smiles would turn into a scowl.

"She has an older brother, y'know." Mumbo nodded again. He did know. He knew their names, he knew how one related to the other, and he saved it in his memory intricately, just in case she needed to know something, or to simply avoid saying something that would stir up some trouble. "And- he's got that hunting dog. This big thing that sits next to him, and the weird ears perk up when it hears as much as some fabric shifting."

Mumbo opened his mouth as she lifted another piece of bread to his mouth, but she kept it out of reach for a moment, watching him close his mouth back up. The stew that dripped down was gathering on his chin, and he was itching to get himself a napkin.

"That- the dog is scary, y'know. And the brother tells me, it's mostly used for its nose, it can smell out the prey. And if he wasn't there, the dog could take it down by itself. Break some deer's neck with the large teeth it's got. It could kill the deer and probably kill the brother, too."

She brought the bread back up to his mouth, this time tapping it against his lips as he didn't immediately open up. It seemed to be the last of the slice, as she drew back and dried her hand off on the napkin on her lap.

"He let me feed it some treats and it was kind of disgusting." She lifted the napkin to his face, and then cleaned his chin off. As soon as her hand was off his face, he scooted back, and away from her. "I think he likes me." She laughed.

Mumbo held a hand in front of his mouth for a moment, willing her eyes away from it. 

"Your father doesn't like him." He reminded her.

"Oh, and who cares." She shook her head. Pushing the half-eaten bowl of stew to the side of the tray, she leaned over to open the second basket. She cut herself a slice with the knife that’d been provided, and clumsily dropped it on a plate. 

Ariana cut off a piece of the cake, armed with a small fork, and stuck it in his direction. 

"Do you want a treat, Mumbo?"

His shoulders trembled a little. He was studying the pattern of the blanket, and weakly shook his head. 

"I'm full.")

-

Mumbo woke up with heavy eyelids, and a headache forming in the front of his skull.

For a long, worrying moment, he wondered if he’d somehow gotten sick. Panic rose up at the thought of it- staying in bed for a day or so, and being unable to do anything- but then the anxiety quickly subsided. Even though it was close to winter, and this time of year usually invited viruses into his system, he knew that there was no way he could’ve gotten sick.

Grian was just poisoned, after all- and he was feeling better now. (And, realistically, living in isolation- with the only people entering from the outside world being Scar’s family- he probably wasn’t going to get sick anytime soon.)

No- he recognized the feeling easily enough. He was just tired.

Between the stressful dream he had when he fell asleep earlier, and the whole talk he had with Grian- the mission that he was likely going to take over, since being encouraged to do so- he was surprised that he got any sleep at all.

As per his usual routine, he was the first to wake up. Then it was Scar- slowly stirring, and making Mumbo turn his head over. His eyes weren’t open, and Scar couldn’t see that Mumbo was staring at him- and it was then that Mumbo realized that they could’ve easily killed Scar the other night. (That’s what he was supposed to be thinking about now, right? Since Grian heavily implied that he wanted him to aid much further in Scar’s death. They could’ve gotten Scar when he was tired, and sleeping so deeply that not even Grian could wake him up.

But they didn’t.

They couldn’t, he mentally corrected himself.)

He waited, and it didn’t take much longer for Scar to fully wake up.

Then, as if sensing that he was waking up, Grian was quick to follow.

Their first morning waking up in the same bed together was kind of awkward. Grian seemed a little put-off, seeing that they were waking up in a new environment, and Scar seemed to be similarly startled, as if he’d completely forgotten that he invited both of them over. (He could understand the confusion, on Scar’s part. Grian and Mumbo had shared a bed multiple times, throughout their many years of knowing each other, and it was likely that Scar never needed to do anything of the sort with another person.)

The three of them brushed it off quickly, to start their morning routine- but even then, the time spent getting ready was mostly quiet.

“I left all my dresses in my room." Grian said with a frown- the first thing anyone's said that morning- and he didn't even attempt to pitch it, voice groggy from sleep, and likely raspy from the sickness that he couldn't seem to shake off.

"I brought all your nightgowns. The ones that aren't covered in blood, anyway-"

Grian's nose scrunched up at the reminder. "I still need a bath."

"There's one right next door." Scar said, and the two of them jumped when he finally spoke. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking over at the two of them- and despite being the type to rise early, according to the other servants, it seemed that he was still out of it, eyes barely catching onto either of them and then opting to stare blankly. 

Grian didn't bother fixing his wrinkled nose, seeing that Scar was still blearily rubbing his eyes and glaring at nothing. At least he pitched his voice a little as he spoke up again, "Is it fine for me to use?"

Scar nodded, as if he wasn't quite committed to the answer. He then waved off somewhere towards his wardrobe. "There's a towel there somewhere. If something's up we'll hear if you yell for us."

Grian gave Mumbo a look, as if he was trying to imply something- and for once, Mumbo felt himself blank. Usually he and Grian were on the same page.

"I'll excuse myself, then. I won't take too long."

When he left the room, the room's atmosphere took a strange dip. 

Scar, who was out of it a moment ago, was now staring at Mumbo as he turned to face him. He didn't say anything, expression empty and unreadable. Mumbo could not imagine what was going on inside his head.

"Should I get some food from the kitchen?"

Scar nodded, once again as if he didn't quite care about the answer. Mumbo fixed up his jacket, a bit rumpled from sleep and kneeled by his shoes.

"What are you doing?"

Mumbo paused, only briefly looking up from where he was lacing his shoes.

"...getting ready?"

"You aren't wearing that." Scar said, confidently, and he finally seemed to be properly woken up. And when Mumbo didn't try to deny it- or when he realized that he was telling the truth- his face fell a little. "Really?"

"What?"

"You slept in that." And before Mumbo could interject, or try to argue, Scar quickly shut him down, "Multiple times, if I remember correctly."

And… yeah. He was right. The sudden realization made Mumbo pause. The fibers of the shirt he was wearing was suddenly becoming irritating, and itchy. Between consistently worrying about Grian's health, and worrying about their cover being blown, it must've completely skipped his mind- which was so unlike him! (It didn't help that he was tired now, either. His head wasn't pounding, but there was a residual ache- dull on his forehead, and under his eyes- and the stress of everything was starting to make his hands shake.)

He began untying his shoes, and kicked them off as quickly as possible.

"You're right. I'll go back to the room, and get a change of clothes-"

"Hold on."

Mumbo paused, shutting his mouth with a click. The silence was wrecking his brain, and he cursed himself for not thinking of changing his clothes earlier. He must look terrible.

("We care about how our servants present themselves, because it's an extension of ourselves."

That's what Scar's mother said. That's what Mumbo heard his entire life before leaving that mansion behind. It was something that stuck with him.)

Mumbo dropped his head a bit, listening to the bed creak as Scar got up, and his silent footsteps as he walked towards him. He stopped in front of Mumbo.

"Sorry," Mumbo said quickly.

"Hm?" Scar tilted his head. 

"Um- yeah. I'll get changed. Sorry."

Scar waved him off, and then backed off as well. "It's too far to walk back to your room." 

"I can… I'm quick?"

"We're around the same height, aren't we?" And, as he spoke, he went through his wardrobe- hand flitting between each and every outfit that was pristinely hung up, "And my clothes are around the same size…"

Mumbo put the pieces together quite quickly. "That… won't be necessary."

But Scar wasn't listening to him. With a click of his tongue, he pulled out an outfit that was similar to the one he saw him wearing sometimes- a simple robe with golden accents, and golden designs embroidered into it- but instead of the main color being green, it was red.

"I've never worn this." He said, almost proudly. And, even though Mumbo's hands were raised, he couldn't stop Scar from pressing the outfit against his front, and assessing it. "Red isn't really my color." He continued, eyes carefully going up and down, and making him just slightly self-conscious. "And this will definitely fit just fine..."

But he looked obviously distracted. His eyes weren't meeting Mumbo's, despite his attempts to make eye contact with him. Instead, his eyes were moving up and down, pulling the outfit a bit straighter, and then holding it to the side to look at his usual garb.

"Is something wrong?"

Scar shook his head, still not looking at him. He seemed a little thoughtful. “We can use it tonight- it's perfect sleepwear.” Quickly he turned, putting the red robe off to the side, hanging it off the backrest of a chair, and he came back from his wardrobe once again, with something else entirely.

It was multiple things, layers over layers, Mumbo realized- and he took a step back with his hands raised, waving them in dismissal. “It’s fine, Scar. My uniform is just fine.”

His arms dropped, some of the clothes he was holding drooping on the floor, and though he corrected his expression almost immediately, Mumbo could see the frown on his lips before it disappeared. “You don’t want to try?”

Mumbo lowered his hands, looking at the pile of clothing in his arms. He could see an undershirt, a blouse- he shook his head. “I don’t want you to go through the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” He stepped forward, putting most of the clothes on the chair but keeping the undershirt in hand. “It really isn’t! I haven't even worn most of these- and I’d love to see you dressed up, Mumbo.”

Mumbo couldn’t fathom what that was supposed to mean. Scar had no reason to put him in an extravagant outfit, because it wasn’t like they were about to appear at a party or in front of an audience together. (But if what Grian said was true- Mumbo realized, quietly- if Scar had interest in him, beyond just befriending his wife’s bodyguard, then there could be something else behind it. It didn’t seem like Scar was a malicious sort of person who’d put him in an embarrassing outfit to laugh at him, and Mumbo could see the outfit- it seemed fancy, and completely fine.

Did Scar then just like how he looked?)

His face heated up a bit as he thought about Scar's eyes raking over his body. It was probably- no, definitely- just to figure out if his outfit would fit him, but it still flustered him. 

But giving Mumbo the incentive to talk to him, and to let his guard down around him would help with their mission. He nodded.

“Go ahead and doll me up, then.”

(And- Mumbo didn’t think about it often, but putting Grian in his disguises, he wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of that. Fancy clothes didn’t seem comfortable but they did seem… grand.)

Scar clapped, clearly excited over the idea. He handed Mumbo the undershirt and then turned around to rummage around in his wardrobe. Mumbo took the time he wasn’t looking to change out of his clothes, and, strangely exposed, he stood in the middle of the room. It didn’t take long to throw the undershirt over, and he waited for whatever Scar would give him next.

"Are you dressed?" Scar asked instead, and Mumbo hadn't noticed that he stopped fidgeting with the clothes.

He blinked. "Yes." He didn't know that Scar was waiting for his confirmation.

Scar turned on his heel, excited and grinning from ear to ear, and he held up a white corset with two hands, showing it off with dancing fingers. "Excellent!"

"A corset," Mumbo said. He didn't know how he felt about it. It quite certainly was out of his comfort zone. "Do you wear a corset?"

"I love them! I love taking them off even more." 

Cautiously, Mumbo held out his arms so Scar could start wrapping the corset around him. It stopped right underneath his chest, and Mumbo brushed his thumb around the edge, hoping it wouldn't dig in too tightly. Scar took two straps hanging off of it, forming an 'X' over his back, and bringing them forward to hook into the front. It almost looked like the straps you'd get from overalls- though, clearly, more expensive and more fancy.

That seemed to be the easy part. Scar brushed his hands over his waist, carefully tracing the strings that he'll have to knot together and Mumbo shivered. His face felt hot.

"You're tense, Mumbo."

His voice was directly next to his ear, and Mumbo jumped at it. Scar chuckled, and quietly started to tie the first knot, pulling only slightly.

"Corsets aren't scary. Don't worry." Then, after a pause, "I haven't done this before myself, so bear with me."

Mumbo held his breath, clenching his eyes closed. He could feel Scar's hands, he could feel the body behind him, even if, realistically, he left enough space to be considered decent.

Scar stopped in his tracks. His hands wandered back to his waist, holding on as if he was afraid that Mumbo would fall over. Then he let them drop completely. It felt like getting pushed into cold water.

"Is something wrong?"

Mumbo hummed in question, but it was way too high pitched. Then he shook his head. "What do you mean?" And when Scar didn't do anything he turned his head a little. "We can continue."

The hands hesitantly went back to their initial place. “You’ve never worn something like this before.” He stated. It must’ve been quite obvious then, if he sounded so sure of himself.

“No.” He spoke courtly, like he was emerging from the surface of still water, and only had a second to answer before pulling himself down again. “Never.”

“They’re good, really. They make me feel productive. Like I’m about to go somewhere, instead of sitting in my room all day.” And casually, without putting much attention on it, he tried tying a second knot. It felt uneven, and the struggle seeped into Scar’s voice as he continued. “Uh. They help with my posture. It’s, uh, gosh-” He untied it, pulling it taut, and with it, pulling Mumbo closer. With a frustrated noise, he pushed him back into his original position. “My posture looks a-mayzin with it on. Uh-may-zin. A-may-” He untied it again. His voice was deadpan. “Yeah.”

“It helps your posture?”

“Sure does.” With the third try, he finally seemed satisfied. Mumbo didn’t quite know what was going on behind him, because it never usually took this long with getting Grian’s corset on and off.

After the first few tries it was smooth sailing, and Scar started humming under his breath. Mumbo could feel himself relax a whole lot more, and even if he couldn’t sag his shoulders and untense his back as it was being worked on, he didn’t feel like holding his breath anymore. The hands brushing along his waist were electrifying, but not unexpected anymore, and the body behind him didn’t leave him feeling claustrophobic.

“Sometimes I envy you." Scar said all of a sudden, low under his breath. “And then I realize that I’m being silly.”

“What’s there to envy?”

“...”

The last knot was done. Mumbo tried getting a glimpse at Scar, but he was already turned around to sift through the pile of clothes. The corset felt strange on him- not as suffocating as he thought it’d be, but something to get used to, definitely. It felt more like an elaborate undershirt that would leave him slightly itchy and too aware of his own skin at all times, but since he had a comfortable undershirt beneath it, it was a bit more fine.

“What’s there to envy?” He repeated.

Scar looked at him with a slight smile, holding up the next piece of clothing. “Nothing. That’s why I said I’m being silly.”

“But-”

“Stockings.” Scar interrupted, in a way that Mumbo would describe as stern if it wasn’t so soft.

“Stockings. Okay.”

There was nothing to get from that line of conversation, then. At least not now. He grabbed the stockings- white and thick, soft to the touch- and considered them. With a hum, Mumbo sat down on the edge of the bed, ready to put the stockings on, but Scar stopped him with a gentle touch to his hand.

“Let me help.”

They met eyes, and Mumbo wondered what he was trying to do. Slowly, he handed the stockings back over. To his surprise, Scar lowered himself to his knees before Mumbo, keeping eye contact all the way down, before he was sitting on his heels. He scrunched up one leg of the stocking until the entire thing fit in his hands, and he smiled up at Mumbo, gingerly taking his leg by his ankle and pointing it in a way where he could comfortably roll the stockings over. They smoothly moved over his entire leg, hands following flat-palmed and Mumbo could feel his muscles tense under his fingers. Once he was past the knees, he picked at the end again, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything in the right place? Is your heel comfortable?”

“Uh- just a bit-” The fabric shifted a little. “That’s good. Like that.”

Scar hummed, and started scrunching up the second leg. Mumbo wanted to tell him that it was fine- that he could do it himself, and that Scar didn’t need to put in that effort, but the words caught in his throat. The second leg got on just as smoothly, right up to the knee again, but Scar had to pick around a bit longer to get the heel comfortable. 

Then he tried to pull it all up to his thighs.

Mumbo startled for some reason, knocking his legs back together and trapping one of Scar’s hands between his knees, hands digging into the bedding he was sitting on. Scar looked at his hand with a blank look, and then slowly pulled it out and folded it in his lap. He scooted back, slightly. “Can you stand up again?”

Mumbo did, the backs of his knee still touching the bed, and Scar pulled him closer by his thighs, until they were as close as a moment ago. Scar dragged the stockings further up his thighs, rising along on his knees until he was no longer sitting on his heels, and instead kneeling upright, arms wrapped around his midriff as he tried to get the stockings up as far as it was comfortable, somewhere above his navel. With a tired huff, he sat back on his heels and quickly looked over his work, before moving his head to glance up at Mumbo’s face. His hands were resting over his knees, and then moved up to his hips, pinching the cloth between his fingers, pulling a little, and then letting it snap back into place.

“Do you like the texture? It’s specifically made for cold weather.” 

Mumbo swallowed thickly, and he couldn’t rip his eyes off of Scar. His hands were moving up even higher, comfortably landing on his waist, where the stockings stopped right by the corset. “Mumbo, I was wondering if-”

“What comes next?” He interrupted, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence, and when he realized that Scar was trying to say something, he asked, “Sorry, what did you say?”

Scar blinked a few times, and shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Can you help me up?”

“Sure.” Mumbo didn’t like how uncontrolled the tone in his voice was. He held his hands out and heaved Scar back up to his feet- lightheaded for a moment, Scar held onto his shoulders, and then stepped away to continue shifting through the pile of clothes he brought out before.

Suddenly, without knocking or warning, the door opened up, and both Scar’s and Mumbo’s necks snapped over to it at the same time.

It was Grian, hair still damp, waltzing in and yawning openly and loudly, arms stretched over his face and eyes screwed close. He was now wearing a new nightgown- one that was lighter in color, and a little looser. As he closed the door behind him, and opened his eyes back up, he stopped mid-yawn, looking at the scene in front of him. His arms dropped down. “Is that a corset?”

Mumbo looked himself down and Scar took a discreet step away from him, holding a white ruffled shirt close.

“Are we dressing Mumbo up?” And with a skip in his step, he let himself fall onto the bed, hands holding up his head and legs kicking up and down as he looked up at the two with a patient smile. 

Scar seemed to relax, walking up to Mumbo and holding his shoulder as he talked to Grian. “We seem to be the same height, right?” And at Grian’s excited nod, reassured that he was interested, he continued. “I have this outfit, not really my style-” With a turn and step he grabbed it, presenting it to Grian, and then holding it over Mumbo to show what it’d look like on him. “What do you think?”

Grian’s mouth formed into a small ‘o’. “How did you convince him to put that on? He’s so stubborn about fancy clothes.”

Scar laughed. “Really? I don’t feel like I had to convince him at all.”

Mumbo felt strange then, right there, listening to Grian and Scar talk about him. It was a normal conversation, and they weren’t making fun of him, or saying anything that would seem insulting, but Mumbo could feel a trembling in his chest at the interaction.

Scar put a warm hand on his arm. “Do you wanna see what’s next?”

When Mumbo didn’t answer for a while, Grian butted in. “You’d look really nice in something fancy. We can take it right off after you’re done.”

Mumbo nodded slowly, and then a little faster, trying to regain words. “Yeah. No, I want to try it on, yeah.”

Scar and Grian both smiled at him, and Mumbo felt like an outsider for a moment, as if the two were silently sharing some information without Mumbo knowing- as if they saw something in Mumbo that he himself couldn't see. He shook his shoulders a little, trying to get the sensation off of him, and instead focused on the ruffled shirt Scar was handing him.

“It’s a lot of buttons.” Scar grimaced, helping Mumbo into the sleeves. “But to be honest, you don’t really need to button it all the way up. It gives it a little character.”

“Hey!” Grian sat up, crawling a bit further to the edge. “Turn around, I want to see what’s happening.”

Scar moved to look past Mumbo’s shoulder to see Grian, smiling with a strange glint in his eyes. “You’ll see in the end.”

He didn’t have to look back to see Grian collapsing in on himself, suddenly sulky and rolling up as he waited for his turn to have fun. Even if ‘having fun’ in this situation seemed a little abstract for Mumbo.

The last two pieces were a red jacket- stopping somewhere around where the corset would start, with the shoulders sticking out sharply and extravagantly, one big button cinching it nicely around his waist- and then a piece of cloth that wrapped itself around his hips, and was then fixed into place with a golden belt. Mumbo looked down at himself, and he couldn’t even fathom that he was the one wearing this. He desperately wanted to see himself in a mirror.

“Wait.”  Scar stopped him, holding up a golden chain. Mumbo blinked at it, and then at Scar. “It’s jewelry. I wanted to wear it at the wedding but-” He chuckled, like he was thinking of a joke, “It would’ve gotten in the way, I guess.”

Before Mumbo could ask what that meant, Scar already pulled the chain over his face, maneuvering it so that a bigger golden semicircle was right underneath his nose, and then with a small warning, he hooked it between his nostrils. It was a strange sensation, but not necessarily uncomfortable- something reached down all the way to his top lip and it was definitely something he’d need to get used to.

The ends of the chain clipped nicely into his earlobes without needing to have the earring holes for it, and looking at Scar, he delicately brushed his hand over his own face, feeling across the chain.

“Show me!” Grian sat on his heels, rocking back and forth as he waited to see what Scar and Mumbo had been doing for the past five minutes, and Mumbo finally indulged, turning to show Grian his outfit. Grian clapped, smiling pleasantly. “Do a twirl! You look so fancy, Mumbo.”

Mumbo did a twirl, holding his hands slightly out. Scar took a step back to admire his work as well, and Mumbo felt both pairs of eyes on him as he stood there. Grian jumped up to stand next to Scar, openly admiring the outfit.

“You look like royalty.”

Mumbo softly shook his head. It was a weird compliment to come from Grian, though in this role of Ariana, it might be a very fitting one.

“You look great, Mumbo.” Scar said.

They were standing next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, both carrying a ridiculous expression, and Mumbo had no clue what to think about it. If the corset wasn’t in the way, he surely would’ve slumped his shoulders a bit by now, trying to stand a bit shorter than he actually was.

“Thanks.” It didn’t come out sounding very thankful at all, even if the compliments did make his chest warm. He just felt a bit breathless was all, not quite able to put the emotion into his voice. It must be anxiety, he thought, making his face heat up. “Can I get something easier to wear, though?”

Now he sounded even less thankful- immediately refusing to wear the outfit for the rest of the day. But if he was committing a real faux-pas right now, then Grian would’ve jumped in with some convoluted apology and reason, and he hadn’t- so it must be fine.

“Of course, of course… maybe some actual pants-” Scar started searching through his wardrobe again, and while Mumbo more so meant that he was fine with wearing his own clothes again, he didn’t protest. “Just take off the jacket, the white blouse underneath should be fine, yeah?”

Mumbo blinked, pushing his thumb into the corset. “Yeah.” His voice broke off in the middle, sending the rest of the word somewhere into the void. It should be fine? Grian was a lot more picky with what he was wearing, ever since he got a taste of, well, having a choice, and he doesn’t mind wearing a corset.

If he did, Mumbo would not hear the end of it.

Scar threw out a pair of black pants, something that looked similar enough to his usual outfit. “That should fit? If it doesn’t, feel free to look through my closet for others. I don’t have any secrets in there.” He then wrinkled his nose like he was thinking about it. “At least- I shouldn’t have?”

Mumbo and Grian blankly stared at him.

“Anyway- I’ll go prepare some things, but do we wanna meet outside? Close to the gazebo.” He cleared his throat, and brushed the front of his shirt down. “I’ll be after you in a moment.”

They nodded, watching him leave the room, silently.

The minute the door shut behind him, Grian was up in his space, thumbing at the button holding the red jacket together. "Can we talk about it now?"

They were alone, as far as either of them knew, and likely safe- but that didn't stop Mumbo from fidgeting. He thumbed the edge of his sleeve, and kept his head down.

“Talk about what?” Mumbo said, undoing the golden belt that held up the fancy pants. He obviously knew what Grian was talking about. 

“Mumbo.” He watched him put on the black pants. Mumbo sighed in relief, feeling a lot more like himself- and then he recoiled at the thought, frowning at the idea that he’d feel comfortable in clothing he’d wear as a servant. Of course, it had nothing to do with being a servant, and everything to do with what he was used to.

“Grian.”

Grian stepped up, undoing the button to the red jacket, and carefully brushing it off his arms, like he knew how much money he was touching right now. Though he let it fall to the floor instead of holding onto the sharp shoulders of the jacket, lingering his hands on Mumbo’s elbows. “Let’s talk about killing him.”

He said it so bluntly that Mumbo couldn’t help turning his head to see if anyone was there- even if he knew nobody was there- and he cleared his throat nervously. “I’m still thinking about it.” He said, honestly, “I haven’t killed anyone in a long time."

“We’re not on a timer, but with Scar knowing that I’m an avian… I’m not sure how much longer this disguise can last.” Grian lifted his hands to Mumbo’s face, carefully tracing his fingers along his cheeks to his ears, and unclasping the jewelry. Handling the chain like it was pure gold, he pulled off the semi-circle from Mumbo’s nose, and gathered the chain on his palm. “One wrong move, and everything comes crumbling down.”

“He said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“And how can we trust that?” Mumbo clicked his tongue. Grian continued, and if Mumbo knew him any less, he wouldn’t have noticed the way he let the chain slide into Mumbo’s pockets. "And, well. If we're really desperate, we can just pin it on a servant, can't we? And get away scot-free?"

"How many times do you think that'll work?"

"How many times are we going to kill someone?" He said instead, “I’m just saying- we’ve been attacked by one of them already, and we can use that to our advantage…”

“Is it a good idea to pin it on a servant when there’s so many of them? And… so little of us?”

“Maybe there’s still a few people that want him dead. Maybe they’ll vouch for us.”

“It’s still a risk.”

Grian frowned. And, in an instant, Mumbo watched his face fall into something blank.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Mumbo.”

“...”

(Ariana looked bored.

Her head was pressed against the knuckles of her hands, and she was staring at Mumbo with a dull, neutral expression on her face- watching him intently through her mirror. She was clearly waiting for his reaction.

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” She said, but Mumbo knew better. They’ve been working together for less than a month now. And though he hasn’t been doing anything more than just sticking by her side, and looking out for her- he knew that she wanted something more. She told him that she wanted something more.

Her personal servants didn’t last very long. No more than a few months, she’d said, but Mumbo could be different. He had to be different if he wanted to continue working there- she couldn’t just pick someone else, when Mumbo hasn’t been given a chance.

At the time, he was only around 13 years old. All he’s known was that manor, and working for that family. His own family was gone. And if he got fired, there was nothing left for him anywhere else. Ariana was like a blood-sniffing shark, and Mumbo was the poor swimmer being stuck in deep water. It was like she knew that he’d have nothing, without that job.

He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, but he would have to deal with the consequences that came from not doing it.

And, besides, it wasn't that big of a deal. He came closer to the vanity with small steps. 

"Do you know a single thing about make-up?" She asked, lining her products in a more organized way.

He shook his head, hands folded neatly behind his back. Ariana raised an eyebrow at that.

"Did you never look at your mom's cabinet? Watch her get ready?"

The truthful answer was, that his mother didn't have the means to get make-up, and that wearing it as a servant was impractical and only got in the way. But he knew that Ariana didn't like those kinds of answers. "My mother was up earlier than me, I didn't catch it."

"You have to know something about it, though. Everyone does."

Mumbo honestly did not. His mother didn't wear cosmetics, and even if she did, it’s not like he could learn from her now. It was too late to learn anything from his mother, now.

Ariana seemed frustrated. "Just try it. I know you know something, everyone knows something."

He looked at the products with jumpy eyes. One case contained a light pink powder, he thought, something that matched the pink on her cheeks usually- so he hesitantly picked it up. The brush for it was small, with black bristles, and he gently tapped the solid pink powder with it. He lifted it up to her face, and she followed every movement of his hand. But once he tried to apply it on her cheek, Ariana slapped his hand away.

"Are you stupid?"

Mumbo dropped the brush, and he quickly bent down to grab it. It rolled under the vanity, and he kneeled, arm stretched out, barely able to get it. When he went to stand up again, Ariana had a hand on top of his head, pushing him back down.

"Now what did you just do?"

"I- uh-" he looked down at the brush, and then back at Ariana. He wanted to get up, but he knew that she wouldn't like that. "I don't know."

"What did you just do, Mumbo? What did you do?"

He shook his head. "I- tried to put on the pink cheek color, I thought it matched-"

She laughed cruelly. "You mean the blush?" And when he lowered his head to look at the floor, she pulled his face back up by his chin. Her thumb rested there and it took all his willpower to not back away. "Look at me. You keep averting your eyes."

"Sorry. Sorry." He found her nose and his eyes caught onto it.

"Anytime I ask you a question, all you do is say sorry." She pulled her hand away, and turned back to the vanity. She sat silent for a moment, and then looked back at Mumbo. "What are you doing, groveling down there? Get up. We're not done." When he stood up quickly, she looked at him through the mirror. "So I don't know if you're playing dumb, or if you genuinely don't even know this stuff-" She held up the pink powder again. "This here is eyeshadow. Eyeshadow, Mumbo. Where would eyeshadow go?"

"The eyes?" Ariana didn't continue, staring silently. "The eyelids." H e quickly corrected.

"Right. And this here-" she held up a powder in a shade of red, a round case that was four times as big as the eyeshadow. "That is the blush. And you don't use the tiny eyeshadow brush for your cheeks. Just logically, think how it would look like to put blush on your cheek with a small brush."

Mumbo didn't understand how it would look, but it did seem to make more sense to use a bigger brush on a wider area, so he nodded.

"Good. What is this, Mumbo?"

"Lipstick." He knew that one. He's seen enough fancy women take it out of their purse and reapply it after dinner.

"So you're not completely clueless." She smiled, setting the lipstick back down. "What is this?" It looked like a pencil, just that the tip of it was red.

Mumbo did not have a single clue. "Is it… another lipstick?"

"No." Her smile fell. "It's to line the outside of the lips. A lip liner."

The outside of the lips? Mumbo tried remembering if he ever saw someone with their lips lined, but nothing came to mind. Maybe it was subtle?

"And then this."

Another pencil. It was brown, but looked exactly like the lip pencil. "Is it for the eyes?"

"Eyebrows." S he corrected. "Let's limit it to that for now, hm? If I show you any more your head is gonna explode. Try the blush, now."

He picked up the big brush for the cheeks again. It was light in his hand and his quiet trembling was all the more noticeable through it. Ariana noticed. He could tell, the way her eyes lingered on the brush for a moment too long. He dipped it in the powder, and lifted it up to her face.

"Steady hands, Mumbo." She said in a low voice, not breaking eye contact. And when his hand didn't stop, she grabbed his wrist and physically contained the trembling. And though Mumbo's hand may have been steady, with his movement restrained, he felt the shaking in his chest instead. His breathing was coming out strangely, manual and loud to his own ears, and with his face completely red, he painted a circle onto Ariana's cheek. 

Her grip around his wrist tightened.

"Stop- stop smearing. Do you think you're a painter? Come on, stop-" She turned to the mirror. She looked completely fine to Mumbo, even if it was strange with only one cheek painted. He backed off as she turned to the mirror. “Now- what is this?"

Mumbo stood silently, hands tucked together.

"Can you not hear me? What is this?"

"The blush, my lady."

"Stop playing smart now-" She took the brush from Mumbo, and dipped it back in the powder. "Look closely. I'll only show this once." 

Instead of gliding it over her skin, she tapped it repeatedly, coating the majority of her cheek all the way to her ear. When she put the brush down, Mumbo could barely tell a difference between his attempts and hers, but he nodded dutifully. 

She dipped a cloth in a basin of water, and rubbed both cheeks off, fanning herself to dry her face faster. It took a while to get it all off. Then she handed him the brush back.

"Try again."

He tried again. He did it like she showed him to, tapping it instead of smearing, and he covered her face in the soft red powder. He retreated once again, leaving her to turn back to the mirror. Her neutral face fell into a scowl. "What is this?" She pointed at Mumbo's work. "Look how blotchy this is. Did you even watch how to do it?" She looked back in the mirror, pulling at her face. "I look like I'm sick or something…"

"I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes, taking out the damp cloth again. "You better be." She repeated the process all over again, taking the brush from Mumbo and dipping it in powder again. "Come on. Watch closely."

She tapped it over her face. Mumbo didn't see how he did it any differently, if she was holding it in a particular way or applying it on special places. She handed the brush over. "Again." Mumbo held it, and the trembling was a lot more noticeable now. "Steady." S he warned, holding his wrist again.

Mumbo did try again. 

And again. And again.

Her skin was already red and irritated from how often she washed it off and applied it back on. "It's like you're trying to waste my time on purpose."

Mumbo shook his head. "I've never done this before."

"And I did it when I was four and stole an old blush from my mother! Tell me how I still looked better back then?!"

Mumbo looked at his shoes. "You have a keen eye, my lady, and steady hands."

"Look at me." He did. "Don't flatter me now."

Even though she said that, he could feel her mood lift. As she turned to the mirror, she even smiled a little, watching her reflection. "I guess this is your best attempt yet. I wouldn't leave my room with this, but it's progress."

Mumbo looked out the window. The sun was nearly down all the way, and he knew that he would already see the moon on the other side of the horizon. He took a step back and adjusted his collar, ready to be dismissed.

"Let's try something else."

His hands dropped. He quickly tried to make the motion into something deliberate, so it didn't tip her off. Swinging his hands to stay by his sides, he nodded.

Ariana held up the lipstick and lifted the cap. "You know what lipstick is, right? It goes on the lips?"

Mumbo nodded. He took it from her, and leaned over so she didn't have to lift her head. Hesitantly, he tried applying the muted red color.

It worked fine at first, the color appearing smooth and nice, but as he tried to line along the edges, he ran into problems. His hand was still shaking, and as much as he tried to stay in line, it ended up uneven. As he leaned back, it wasn't all that noticeable though. He lifted his hand.

Ariana turned to the mirror. Her expression was unreadable as she studied her face. Her hand was dancing along the edges of her lips. She caught Mumbo's eyes in the mirror, smiling a little. "Do you think I look nice like this, Mumbo? Yes or no."

Mumbo's shoulders locked up. 

It was a trick. 

If he said yes, that meant that he thought he did a good job. And even if he thought it wasn't all that half-bad, he couldn't tell the difference from her attempts and his attempts. She saw something he didn't. But if he said no, and she thought the lipstick was fine, he was making problems for himself. She would keep pushing, until she brought out of him that maybe, he didn't apply the lipstick all that well- and she'd ask him why he didn't fix it right away, as he was doing it.

Neither answer seemed right.

"You always look nice, my lady."

She laughed, and it tapered off. "That's not what I was asking though, was it, Mumbo?" She turned in her chair, legs folded over and hands in her lap. "Do I look nice like this?" She pointed at her lips, still smiling, seemingly patient.

Mumbo racked his brains on what to say. Logically, if he was dealing with someone who took logic as an answer, he could tell her that he genuinely didn't have an eye for makeup. But Ariana wouldn’t take that. Mumbo didn't think Ariana would take anything. She'd just keep pushing and pushing and pushing-

Mumbo screwed his eyes shut and nodded. He forgot the question at this point, but he did know that it didn't matter how he answered. Ariana had made up her mind.

He knew she had, by the way she grabbed him by his tie and dragged him down, his knees almost giving out in the process.

"Open your eyes." S he said, and then, "Look at me!"

He blinked rapidly, but did what she told him to. She was staring at him with big, wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape. He tried to take a step back on instinct, but she still had her hand around his tie, yanking him back. It felt like the tie was going to suffocate him.

"So you paint me like a clown, and try to convince me that I look fine."

He was bending over uncomfortably, he didn't know what to do with his hands- he was tired and his legs hurt, the day was long, way too long, and he couldn't keep up with Ariana's words anymore.

She stood up, and at the very least he wasn't bending over anymore- but she pushed him down onto the stool in front of the vanity, and she made him face the mirror.

She held his face with an unwavering grip, pushing his cheeks together. "Look, Mumbo, look at your face. Look!"

He couldn't not look if he tried. He looked at his face, red and too warm- 

And she picked up the lipstick and smeared it across his lips, his chin, beneath his nose. A red line across the bottom half of his face, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. He tried leaning away from her grip, but her other hand came up to the side of his face, grabbing his hair to keep him in place.

"See what you look like? What we look like?" She shook his head around as she spoke. "So, it's fine for us to go out like this? Do I still look nice?"

His bottom lip trembled, and the reflection in the mirror went blurry. He started blinking quickly again, attempting to get the blurriness away before she noticed.

"Are you crying?"  

Of course she'd notice right away. She noticed things, even before Mumbo did. "Just- please, just show me how to do it right." H e begged, his words barely audible over the shaking in his voice. "I'll do it right, I promise, I just don't- I've never done it before-"

The grip on his face loosened. The hand stayed, though, and he forced himself to stay completely still. Her thumb pressed against the skin under his eye, and it forced out the welling tear in his eye, slipping past his cheek, where she caught it once again with the same thumb. Her hand left, but wasn't gone for long, replaced by the wet rag she used to get the make-up off. Without saying a word, she rubbed it quietly against his face, getting off the lipstick and the tears that he couldn't stop from flowing. Then, she lifted it to her own lips and got the lipstick off all the same.

She took the lipstick again, and pushed Mumbo's face up by his chin. He sniffed as he looked up to her, mouth slightly open. "Just keep looking at me." S he said gently, "Get a feel for what I'm doing. Maybe you'll get it."

She lined the edges of his lips with the sharper point first, making sure to keep his cupid's bow in, and then, carefully, she lined out the inside. When she was finished, she pushed his chin up so his mouth was closed, and she pressed the back of her hand against his lips. There was a red lip stain mark on it as she pulled away.

"Look." She did the same thing to her own lips, not even needing to look in the mirror. She kept her eyes on Mumbo the entire time, making sure that Mumbo kept eye contact as well, as she kept his face in place. 

They were both done, and she made them face the mirror. She smiled. "You would probably look kind of pretty as a girl. What do you think?"

Mumbo stared blankly at his reflection, and then, the person hovering over himself. He stared even longer, studying the eyes, the nose, the mouth- and when his head felt light, and his ears sounded like the rushing of ocean waves, like submerging yourself in water, he thought for a moment too long- 

He couldn't recognize either of these people.

"Mumbo?"

"...")

"Mumbo!"

Mumbo blinked. 

There was a hand on his face, and he forced himself to keep still- but when he recognized that it was Grian standing in front of him and holding his face, he leaned into it, just a bit. "Yeah?" He felt a shudder down his back, but he closed his eyes without the need to stay overtly alert of his facial expression or movement, here with Grian.

“I was losing you.” Grian muttered. His head tilted to the side, and his eyes narrowed- as if he was trying to figure out Mumbo's problem with just a look.

"I zoned out." He said, quietly, "I'm just tired."

"Did you hear me?"

Perfectly clear. 

His hands had been moving around, tapping his thigh nervously, and he was quick to steady it. "I'm just- nervous."

"So you want to do it, then?"

Mumbo knew very well that Grian wasn't asking him a trick question. 

Or, at least, he wasn't trying to. Because while Grian could be dismissive, and even though he'd go along with whatever Mumbo wanted to, he knew very well that he wanted to kill Scar, and get this mission over with. So far, the main hurdle was just finding out what to do afterward- but now, with the opportunity to catch Scar off guard, and kill him efficiently… Well, Grian was likely tunnel-visioned, and set on making that plan become a reality.

And though he'd never say it (and he'd never complain about it, if Mumbo told him that he couldn't, or didn't want to), Mumbo knew that he wouldn't like him backing away from the opportunity to have a good kill. Part of him argued that it'd be better for Grian to do it, since the mission was difficult, and he was used to it. Another part- the main part, all-encompassing, and catching the words in his throat before he could actually say it- argued that it was a good plan.

"I'll think about it." He ended up saying. And, already, he could guess that Grian was trying to mute the wave of disappointment that'd likely washed over him, at the words. 

"That's okay." He said, slowly reaching for the veil that laid somewhere between his other pile of clothes, crumpled and in desperate need of ironing. He put it on in practiced motions. "I was just thinking about finding a way out, if that's what you're nervous about. Maybe- we can even swap roles this time. For our last mission."

"What's the rush?" He pressed, nervously, "So far, your secret has been pretty well hidden."

"..." And, at that, Grian looked down, and tilted his head away from Mumbo. "I just want this to go well."

And it will- Mumbo wanted to say. But, instead, he only managed a deep, hesitant inhale. 

"We don't have to do anything big for our last mission." Not outwardly refusing to do it, but also allowing Grian to reconsider.

"It's just an option. We can think of something else." But, before Mumbo could start breathing a sigh of relief, Grian was turning right back around to look at him again- a smile clear and present on his face, even as he wore the veil again. "Maybe- we can try something else."

"Yeah?"

"How would you feel about just… luring him to his death? You find a nice, secluded place- maybe one he can lead you to- and I can put the final nail in the coffin?" He waved his hand, "Then, we can hide the body, and we can leave through the front door. He has a habit of disappearing anyway, right? And he didn't come with us on our last shopping spree- we can ditch town before anyone spots us."

"You seem to be very sure that he likes me."

Grian's face scrunched up.

"I can see it, when he looks at you. And when he talks to you. Maybe, you just need to pretend to meet him halfway, and we'll have something we can use to our advantage." And, just as he was saying it, Grian opened the door to their room, stepping outside and waiting for Mumbo to do the same. "Just try to get closer to him. I'll wingman you."

"Wingman me-?" He asked. Grian clicked his tongue, winked- and, as he said it, the feathers around his head ruffled. He quickly smoothed them down, still grinning, and they both rushed to get to the gazebo before Scar could.

Mumbo felt something building in his chest, and it came out abruptly as laughter- and he quickly shut it down, not wanting to give Grian the satisfaction of having laughed at his stupid joke.

Based on the smug side eye he got, he didn't quite succeed.

-

It was chilly. Grian was wrapping a small knitted jacket closer to himself.

Even though it was a still and peaceful day- somewhere close to noon, he realized, now that he was outside, and actually paying attention to where the sun was in the sky- it wasn't nearly as hot as he thought it was going to be. It wasn't as hot as it'd been when the three of them last visited the gazebo area. If anything, he'd say that the temperature was dropping.

Scar was holding a large basket in one hand. In the other, under his arm, there was a rolled-up quilt.

Upon seeing it, Mumbo held out his hands- but Scar only gave him the blanket. He readjusted the grip on the basket, and he began placing it on the table of the gazebo, sighing a little from exertion.

"There's a nice place out there. Just a small walk." And then, "I hope you don't mind…" He looked back at the manor with a displeased expression on his face. 

And, in turning to meet where his gaze was, he noticed what he was so miffed about. One of the guards- the same one blocking the outside of his room during the wedding, and the same one that went down the mountain with them- was also leaving the manor, and slowly making his way toward them. "I couldn't shake him off, once he found out that I was leaving. I think the whole assassin thing worried him."

The guard thankfully kept his distance, when he looked up and saw them lagging behind- but he was likely going to stick with them for a while.

"I was hoping for some privacy." Grian muttered. He tugged at the collar of his dress, and for once, Scar got the message.

"It's just for our picnic- but if it becomes too unbearable, we can always head back inside.”

But Grian didn’t voice any more complaints, and the three of them kept walking.

"Scar- how many guards do you have?" Grian asked, curiously, "You have plenty of servants, and I saw a few guards around your home during your debut party… but, since living here, I've only seen one."

And, even then, he hasn't been around often. Mumbo's only seen him a handful of times, throughout his stay- and he's been there for a while now.

"I only have one. The ones you saw near the walls during my debut party were my family's, and they left with them."

"Only one?"

"Well- my brother, Cub, he's the owner of this huge company. He needs a lot of guards with him, just in case something happens to him. And my parents are just paranoid about their own well-being." He looked over to them, and smiled, "Excessive amounts of guards are usually for people like you, Ariana. Royalty. So I can see why you'd get confused… but I'm usually safe, up here. Despite what you might think, these attempts on my life aren't common."

"Have they happened before?"

"Sure. But if I had it my way…" His voice lowered, "I wouldn't have any guards around at all."

Mumbo looked back at the guard for a second. The man was still covered in a subtle, dark armor- same as he was when he first met him- and something about him just… casually following behind them, and paying them no mind was a little unnerving. Or, he realized, just a little awkward.

The guard probably didn't want to be there just as much as the three of them didn't want him there. He rarely saw him, aside from when they needed to see him. But with the assassin situation, even with Mumbo handling it, everyone was rightfully spooked- even if the target had been Grian, and not the person that the guard had likely sworn his life to protect.

The guard had been looking down when Mumbo assessed him. The minute his head snapped back up, he looked straight ahead again, and tried to pretend like he'd been facing the front the whole time. If this were any other situation, if this was a genuine situation, they could probably share the same knowing look. Seeing yourself in a stranger, and having a moment of relatability, no matter how disconnected their experiences actually are.

But, Mumbo was not a real bodyguard, and he had little interest in building a bond with a guard he won't ever see again after this mission is over.

"Right here." Scar stopped suddenly, and Mumbo assessed the terrain. It was flat, thankfully, but the grass was tickling his calves.

He lifted his hand to point towards a less grassy spot, almost suggesting to change up the spot, but he stopped it just as quickly. 

Mumbo went through the familiar motions of laying the blanket down- thicker than most blankets he'd use for picnics, and much longer than he was expecting it to be. Something that could fit the three of them comfortably, thankfully, and wouldn't leave him to uncomfortably try to fit on it. And because Scar carried the basket instead of him, he didn't have to worry about balancing out the two. Scar set the basket down, and the blanket didn't move- not even as a breeze came through, and chilled them.

Mumbo sat down on the blanket, near Scar. The guard stood just out of earshot, looking around- just in case anyone had decided to follow them. Grian looked between them and the guard before he clicked his tongue, and quickly caught Scar's attention.

"I forgot my hat." Grian pressed his palms against the front of his dress, and flattened the front.

"Really?" Scar asked, curiously, but Mumbo already knew that it wasn't true. Grian kept his gaze lingering on Mumbo for just a few seconds too long, before his gaze quickly moved back to Scar, and suddenly looked really sincere.

"It's not too sunny, but I wanted to wear it today-" Grian put a hand up to his temple, and squinted at the sky, "I'm not that sick, but going outside has been giving me a major headache- and I wanted something to block that sun out."

Despite his attempts to pitch his voice, and keep it at the normal tone, Grian's voice was still slightly raspy. If he said he was still sick, it'd be entirely believable.

"We can go back-"

Grian sighed, "No, that's alright. I'll just ask your guard to escort me back."

"The room might be a mess, still."

"I'll take my chances."

Then, with one final look- one that told Mumbo that this was his chance to do what they talked about- Grian left. They silently watched him approach the guard, and then watch the two of them leave. At some point, the picnic basket was cracked open, and Scar began to eat.

It was silent between them for a moment. It didn't feel as awkward as he thought it'd be. Him and Scar have been alone together, multiple times, but now knowing that Scar not only enjoyed his company, but was probably even seeking it out-

His eyes flickered over to Scar, watching him chew slowly and thoughtfully on a sandwich. His gaze was somewhat distant and he was mostly chewing on air at that point. 

He snapped his head up, as if he could feel Mumbo staring. Blinking, he started rummaging in the basket again. "You can take what you want." And then he got out a second sandwich.

Mumbo eyed it as Scar held it out under his nose, and his hands felt heavy by his side. Something old and weary rose in his chest- a feeling the strangeness of the corset seemed to perfectly frame in-between. A dull, pulsing, but quiet thing. 

Like walking down an old path, even if it was one he hasn't walked for years and years- he found the motions easy to go back to. Startlingly so. Even if he barely thought about these things anymore, his body seemed to slot perfectly into a role he once filled.

He took a bite of the sandwich while it was still in Scar’s hand.

The silence was interrupted by a hesitant sound, followed by stilted, awkward laughter. Then, after a moment passed, the laughter felt more genuine.

"What was that?" Scar was still holding the sandwich out, now hiding a growing smile behind his second hand. "What's with that face? If you don't like the sandwich, tell me! Don't hold back on me, Mumbo."

"It's good." He rasped, and with a flushed face he straightened up, away from Scar's hand. So he was not supposed to do that.

"You sound like you want to spit it out." Scar's words were deadpan, but he couldn't keep the amused glint out of his eyes. Mumbo took the sandwich out of his hand, and decidedly took another bite. It was good, he didn't lie- he just didn't focus on that with the first taste.

"..." He felt Scar's eyes on him. "So?"

"It's good." He repeated, sounding more firm.

"I made them." He seemed content, at Mumbo's approval. "Let's save one for Ariana when she comes back."

(Ariana hated tomatoes. She made Mumbo pick them out of everything she ate. Salads, sandwiches, even sauces that had an inkling of tomatoes in it. He remembered the motion of taking off his glove and picking the red vegetable off of anything. He remembered the stressful walk to another servant, or a cook, politely telling them to keep any and every tomato away from Her Highness, the princess Ariana. They glared at him and rolled their eyes. But the rest of the meals arrived without tomatoes.

He knew that, if she was here, kindly being offered that sandwich Scar made- instead of accepting, and quietly pulling off the tomatoes without making a big scene- she'd wrinkle her nose, and immediately push it towards Mumbo, and then complain for the rest of the meal about the aftertaste the tomatoes would leave.)

"Are you thinking about Ariana?"

Mumbo's head snapped up. "Huh?"

"You're worried about her."

For a moment Mumbo was out of it- how could he even know about Ariana, he thought, stupidly. And then, of course, he remembered that he was talking about Grian. Because, of course, Grian took on her identity. And, of course, it was now messing with his head.

"Yes." He said, dragging the letter like he was unsure if he'd make it a question or not.

"Etho's with her." Scar sat a little closer, stretching his legs out on the blanket. "Our guard. He'd never let anything happen to her."

"I know, I just-" 

"You're exhausted."

"I'm fine." The words were too snappy. He desperately searched for a way to soften them-

"Come on." Scar put a hand on his shoulder, and his muscles tensed for a moment, before relaxing. "Lay down for a moment."

(Scar was not like her at all. Scar wasn't playing strange games, even if he was strange. He didn't dress Mumbo up to coo at him like a pet, but because they were the same height.

Scar was… different.

Somehow, that was worse.)

"I don't need to lay down." He held out his hands, gently declining the offer.

"Hey." Scar bumped their shoulders together. "It's just for a moment. You'll get up if anything goes wrong, won't you?"

Mumbo was still apprehensive, but slowly, he put his head down, neck craning uncomfortably.

They're alone, Mumbo realized. Was now a feasible time to kill him? If he killed him now, what would ensue?

He thought about it, and let his mind wander. The first problem that immediately popped up was that he didn't know how long Grian was going to hold off the guard from coming back. If they came back and saw a dead Scar and Mumbo standing next to him, there was no talking out of that one. So maybe this wasn't a good time at all.

Then he blinked, and opened his eyes slightly. Enough that his eyes would be covered by his eyelashes, but giving him enough sight to see Scar looking down on him.

Scar was watching him, and sitting silently, for the most part. His lips twitched into a smile, and carefully, he smoothed his thumb over his eyelids, softly closing them back shut. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, he noticed.

"Keep your eyes closed. It will help, I promise."

Mumbo could… lure him somewhere harder to find. He could ask him to come along, and lead him to the path, wander into the woods and keep walking until he heard the sound of the river. And then it would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby. If there's anything sharp in that basket- whether that'd be a knife or a fork, he could deal with it. Then, maybe, he could puncture his lungs, and throw him into the river.

He'd come back and tell people that Scar wanted to be on his own, walk out the front door, telling everyone they're going to town and-

Mumbo frowned. That wouldn't work. He would be absolutely drenched in blood. And while he and Grian were close, he doubted that he would sense his need for a change of clothes.

Then… maybe it wasn't the right time.

He could take off the blouse, though. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, but- it's a lot of buttons, he couldn't do it inconspicuously. Then he'd have to have an excuse. But Mumbo wasn't like Grian. Mumbo would stumble through the words. Was he taking off the blouse to, what, seduce him? He almost shuddered at the thought. No. That'd be embarrassing. So, was he telling Scar the corset was uncomfortable, and he'd like it off? But Scar would usher him back to his room, wouldn't he?

"I can hear you thinking from here."

Mumbo opened his eyes, and Scar seemed partially amused, partially concerned. If he really could hear him thinking, that expression would've been wildly different, he supposed. He didn't quite know. Would Scar be disappointed, if he knew?

No, he almost shook his head. No, that wasn't something to be disappointed about, initially at least. You'd be shocked, or- or angry. So Scar would be angry with him. Scar would shove him, and-

Would he be scared? Would he run? Or would he face Mumbo head-on? Somehow he could conjure it up perfectly in his mind. I can't believe I thought I liked someone like you. He'd be angry, like how he was angry at the servant for trying to kill Grian.

He was smiling down at Mumbo, quietly putting a hand on his face. It felt warm. "Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?"

Mumbo couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. He blinked and pulled a face. "That won't be necessary."

"I don't know." Scar tilted his head. "It does seem like you need something to help you relax."

"I'm sure that something won't be a lullaby."

Scar paused for a moment, and seemed to study Mumbo carefully. Then, he tapped his fingers against his head. "It looks uncomfortable. You need a pillow."

"It's fine."

"Come on." And to his surprise, Scar wrapped his arms under his armpits, trying to drag him up a bit. It didn't quite work, but he moved around before Mumbo could blink and- "How's this?"

It was soft, and comfortable, and Mumbo was looking up at his new pillow, nervously flickering between Scar's left and right eye. Scar looked indescribably fond, and Mumbo felt like he was choking on the sudden tension in his chest. His voice came out quiet. "It's nice."

"Is it?"

He nodded. He adjusted his head a little, sinking deeper into Scar's lap, and Scar seemed content with that answer.

He sighed deeply.

"You can get some more sleep." Scar said, quietly, "I'll wake you up when Ariana gets back."

He hummed. Then, it was quiet for a little while longer, and he genuinely tried to relax. No bumps, or anything to suddenly rattle him awake, and leave him tense again.

But before Mumbo could fully fall asleep, Scar spoke again. Quietly, not loud enough to startle him, and likely trying to talk to himself.

“Looks like it’s getting colder.” Mumbo cracked an eye open just in time to see Scar frowning at the crystal clear skies. “Frigid. Like winter.” His eyes jumped down to Mumbo, and seeing that he was still awake, the frown turned into something shaky, a hesitant smile. “Have you heard of cabin fever?”

Mumbo shook his head. 

“Do you like the air up here?” He then asked, as if he never even asked the other question in the first place. “Do you like snow?”

“It’s… fine. We’re not really all that used to it.”

“You’ll get used to it, up here.”

He hummed.

Snow, he thought. They haven’t been anywhere snowy in a while. It could be fun. He closed his eyes, and hoped desperately that he could dream of something nice.

-

(It never snowed where he used to live.

It was a coastal town, right by the ocean, and while winter and the beginnings of spring could be a little chilly, it never went sub-zero- snow was a foreign word to the people there.

Mid-summer. Mumbo felt his skin under his clothes, and he knew that the heat was getting to him. It was that sort of weather that made his head spin, and he wished he could jump into the nearest body of water. Sometimes he did have an hour to himself, even if it was rare, and he spent it leaving to the nearest dock, carefully folding his clothes on a dry spot and jumping straight in. 

Then he put his palm against the underside of the dock, no matter how mossy and slippery it was, and pushed his whole body to stay underwater. His eyes would shut tight, and his body would keep floating upwards, but he'd put his second hand against the dock as well, and he'd keep himself there for as long as his lungs allowed him to. He’d resurface, take a deep breath, and do it all over again. He’d only stop when he felt lightheaded from a lack of oxygen, and he’d climb back up, letting the sun dry his body and put his clothes back on. His dark hair didn’t take long to dry as well, even if it did look a little stringy as he walked back to the mansion he worked at, but it was nothing a little combing couldn’t fix.

Today, he couldn’t even dream of doing any of that.

“Keep up,” Ariana muttered quietly, not even looking his way as she raked her eyes over the shop fronts around them. She held a frilly umbrella, light blue and white in color, matching her puffy dress perfectly, and Mumbo watched to make sure that no one came close enough to step on it. There were guards behind and in front of them, so the possibility of anyone approaching them was low, but if Mumbo let anything like that happen on his watch, he’d never hear the end of it.

It was going to be a busy day, and he wasn't going to get a moment of rest.

She insisted on having Mumbo and a guard follow her into the shop, even if it was small- and the rest waited outside. Then when they were inside, she seemed annoyed that they stuck too close to her, so Mumbo motioned for the guard to stay by the entrance, enough to have a good overview of the store, but also enough to give her some space as she browsed.

“Shouldn’t we be by her side?” The guard asked, eyes silently on Ariana. He talked low, almost under his breath so no one else heard. 

“She wants us to back off.”

“And when did she say that?”

Mumbo frowned. She could turn around and get mad that they aren’t there for her immediate disposal, and it’d be unfair to bring this random guard into this game she likes to play with Mumbo. But then again, staying close while she seems to be suffocating from their watchful eyes seemed even worse.

“She didn’t.”

The guard ripped his eyes off of her to side-eye Mumbo for a second. “You two are weird.”

“Hm?”

“She’s got this weird thing, and you’re going along with it.”

“I’m her servant.” Maybe life was different as a guard. Maybe this person had more choices than he himself had.

The guard shook his head. “You know you’ll have to stop that once she gets married?”

Mumbo's eyes snapped over to him, and he rubbed his ears, unsure if he just heard him wrong. “Excuse me?” 

“It’s quite obvious. To anyone, but her father, I guess. Or you wouldn’t still be working for her.”

His hands shook, so he connected them, thumbs brushing against each other nervously. “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

“She likes you." H e whispered. “Why do you think you stuck around for so long? All her other close servants got fired after a few weeks.”

He laughed, a desperate sound that he tried to kill off when Ariana turned her head towards them. 

She looked back at the wares. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

“...You don’t know.”

“I know that she doesn’t like me.”

The guard seemed perplexed. “You really don’t know.” Then he held up his hands, like he was giving up on the conversation. “I mean, think what you think. Everyone knows that she likes you. Good luck trying to escape her, man.”

“I don’t-” Mumbo cut himself off, looking over at Ariana walking over to them with two cases in hand. 

“What’s so funny?” She asked, a small smile on her lips. “You two are having fun?”

Mumbo disregarded what the guard said. It was ridiculous. “He was just saying strange things.”

“Like what?” She stepped closer to Mumbo, grabbing his arm and pulling him in, like she was sharing a secret. “Come on, I wanna know!”

Mumbo had his lips pulled into a thin line, and forced himself to smile as if he was thinking of something funny. “He said he wanted to try on the dress across the street.”

She blinked once, looking over at the dress in question. Then she started laughing loudly, shoulders shaking as her eyes screwed shut. A moment later, she remembered to put a hand in front of her mouth, and with the laughter petering out, she leaned up to whisper into Mumbo’s ear, “He’d look stupid in it, wouldn’t he?”

Still smiling, Mumbo nodded at her. The proximity between them was suffocating. He wished she would let go of him. “Terrible.”

They left the store with a hairpin and a dangly pair of earrings- silver, with a blue oval that reminded Mumbo of a teardrop. She called it a sapphire gem, rattling off the significance behind it that the store clerk told her about, and Mumbo reacted to it as if he appreciated it greatly. He held onto both, since he was also holding onto the money that was entrusted to her. 

She also handed her umbrella over to him, and stood close to his side. “I don’t want to hold it anymore. Make sure I’m in the shade.” He nodded courtly. At the very least he was getting a little shade from it as well. 

Once they were in a less crowded area, she hooked her arm around his, trapping the umbrella between them. She looked at him with something unreadable in her eyes, and then she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Don’t you want to be in the shade too?”

Mumbo didn’t know what answer she’d like. He met her gaze head-on, like she liked it. “I’ll take it if you allow me.”

She giggled, pressing her head further against his side. Right answer, then. He made eye contact with the guard he talked to before, and he made a face like he was trying to say- I told you so.

He’d take what she allowed him to take. It wasn’t even a lie. That was exactly what he was doing.

He didn’t have any other choice.)

Chapter Text

(Ariana wanted to take the scenic route home.

Mumbo could only trust her judgment when she asked the guards following them to walk ahead- far, so that she and Mumbo could talk without being interrupted, or listened to.

The way she phrased it made it sound like they were going to be talking about something they shouldn't be- something that could lead to a rumor, or something much worse- but knowing her, and knowing her tendencies, he knew that all she really wanted to do was gossip without her guards around. 

And, as if to prove him right, the minute those guards were out of earshot, and only going further, she muttered, "That one guard isn't going to last very long, is he?"

"Which one?"

"The one you were talking with, that followed me into the store." And, at Mumbo's disapproving nod- as if he actually agreed with her- the dam broke. "He asks too many questions. Makes too many assumptions." She continued, "He's very unsure of himself- that's not the type of person I want guarding me. One wrong move, and I'm dead."

Then, as if timed perfectly, the sound of muted laughter filled the air. The guards that came with them- the few that were now just tiny figures in the distance- were all crowding around each other, and enjoying themselves. And though Mumbo never liked socializing, he knew he'd rather be in the middle of their conversation, than be alone with Ariana. 

"That's very sensible, your highness."

She shot him a glare. One that, normally, would stick a shooting pain in his stomach, and leave him wondering what he did wrong- but, at this point, he's been serving her a very long time. Seasons changed- he's changed, with it- and he's been around her long enough to recognize her looks. And while she was still wholly unpredictable, and she still loved keeping him reeling and struggling to keep up with her, he knew that look.

She was being… playful. Or she was annoyed, but only slightly so. If she were messing with him, or trying to, there'd be a glint in her eyes as she continued- but instead, Mumbo saw nothing but a dulled, muted annoyance.

"It feels mocking, when you say that. Your highness."

"It's your official title." Even though, technically, the only reason she could call herself a princess was because of some of her other distant family members- some that were more prominent, and more important than her own immediate family would ever be- even though they were very prominent. 

She's far from being in line for any sort of throne, and there was no way for her to reach it at all. And yet, when she was young- long before Mumbo was posted at her side- it's all she wanted to be called. Her Highness Princess Ariana- the title trailed with a long list of middle and last names that Mumbo never really needed to learn. Thankfully, that sort of entitlement faded- even if slightly. He couldn't imagine how quickly he would've been let go if he was serving her just a few years earlier.

"Stick with my lady." He nodded, and her demeanor changed in an instant, back to relaxed and poised. And though he swore that he wasn't too stressed over her glaring at him, he felt a whole lot better when her face was back to normal. "It makes me sound classy."

"I completely agree. My lady." He tacked on the end, and her eyebrows shot up a little, as if she was pleased by the sound of it.

Then, her gaze was back on him. But, instead of it being neutral, or full of disdain, there was something else there instead- something that made his insides coil with disgust. He couldn't quite describe what it was- it almost seemed like the type of look she'd cast something only seconds before declaring that she wanted it. Infatuation, mixed with some kind of longing- before her look set, and she realized that it was something that she could have. Something that was already well within her reach, and practically resting in the palm of her hand before she even laid her eyes on it.

She likes you- that annoying, nagging voice at the back of his head said to him, and immediately, Mumbo could feel himself paling, and he could feel his hands begin to grow clammy and uncomfortable.

It was like it came crashing down all at once. He didn't realize it until someone pointed it out- and, once he had realized it, it wasn't something he could just put off, or ignore. Especially not if it was as big as this. Because if Ariana liked him- liked him in the way the guard was suggesting, with the same sort of passion she'd have whenever she discussed wanting a rich husband, or the boys she'd meet on her vacations, or any of her other suitors- then what did it mean for him?

She would never stoop low for someone like him, and would never consider marrying him- thank the Gods- but that didn't mean that she'd lose interest in him. She wanted a rich husband that could take care of her. Mumbo's sat through many conversations with her talking about her ideal life, and he had the deep, horrible feeling that- even though she never said it, or alluded to it- she already had some plan for him, in her mind. And that meant spending the rest of his life with her.

Always at her side, and waiting at her beck and call. Never marrying, because she liked him, and she would never allow it- and though he's never had those sort of feelings for any girl he's met before, the option would be out of the question entirely. Spending his days being too exhausted to do anything he liked, or picking up after her and her friends, or- Gods forbid- any children she might have. Having horrible, spoiled, tiny princes and princesses that she could never love more than she loved herself. Children that might resemble how she was, when she was younger, and more… demanding.

Mumbo swayed. Ariana didn't even seem to notice.

"You used to be very unsure of yourself too, you know." She said, and even her tone sounded wistful, and- far too nice, considering her usual demeanor. "You never kept still, and you always had trouble doing what I asked. And don't get me wrong- it was very endearing at the time…" Endearing. Mumbo felt his mouth stretch into a displeased grimace, and he looked away to avoid having Ariana see it. "But I don't have the patience to help push those guards in the right direction, like I did with you. Or the interest. Those guards- they're far more replaceable."

"But you had an interest in me?" Mumbo asked, and regretted it the minute those words were out of his mouth.

Ariana slowed to a stop. Mumbo looked at her, but thankfully, her eyes weren't on him anymore, and instead on the road ahead.

There was a fork in the road. 

And while the guards were far away, and walking in the direction of her family home, she was eyeing the mysterious second path. And, without so much as a second glance, she walked towards the other path, practically dragging Mumbo over by the arm.

"We're taking a detour."

"My lady-"

"You were only important because I saw potential in you." She said in a low drawl, in a tone Mumbo was all too familiar with. His mouth closed with an audible click, and he immediately wished that he could go back, and keep himself from speaking at all. "Someone like me is only as proper as the people she keeps around her. Make no mistake- if you had shown no signs of progress, I would've kicked you out months ago. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my lady."

Then, she was rubbing Mumbo's arm, and the mood was changing yet again, "You've lasted so much longer than all my other servants, though… I think it was well worth the investment." She giggled, and held her free hand over her mouth, "But you are so much more predictable than anyone I've ever met- so your continuous dedication to me is just… expected. You were an easy choice."

"Ah." He said, at a loss for words, and surveying the area around them. "Of course."

Mumbo had absolutely no clue where they were going.

Ariana seemed confident, but she was always confident, even if the situation never warranted it. In this case, Mumbo was convinced that Ariana never took this path before. This path where, despite looking well-used for the most part, was unused by the people living close by. It led them through the forest instead of around it, and the treetops were dense, and it made the path dark.

Not to mention that the sun was setting. Mumbo’s eyes flickered over to Ariana, but she was walking with an easy smile.

"You know that boy my father is trying to set me up with? The skinny one, with the big ears."

The one that she's grown a little fond of, despite her constant complaints about his appearance, and his nasally voice. Possibly because his parents were horribly wealthy. "Of course."

"He told me that there was a monster living in these woods."  

A monster. 

Mumbo nodded, and made a small noise of confirmation. She hated when he was too quiet- she said that it made her feel like he wasn’t listening. At the same time, she hated it when he couldn’t get his sentences out in one whole bit, which tended to happen when she caught him off-guard.

A breeze passed them by. Mumbo’s eyes flickered upwards, and he squinted at the blue specks of sky that he could see through the foliage.

"It's supposed to be some gross, feathery thing that likes to hide in the trees, and bushes, and preys on unsuspecting people passing by- like a mountain lion."

"And… you want to see it for yourself?"

And, thankfully, Ariana seemed puzzled. "It doesn't exist, Mumbo."

"Mhm."

"Don't tell me- you actually got scared because of that." She pinched his arm, and she giggled, and though Mumbo relaxed, he felt a little embarrassed. "Do you believe him?"

They were in an unsuspecting, unfamiliar part of the woods. Monsters weren't far from the realm of possibilities, and anything that could be defined as one could be dangerous. In fact, Mumbo would count some of Ariana's weird, exotic pets as monsters- and if he saw any of them roaming around the woods, he'd rightfully be scared of them.

"It's not… completely unbelievable." And, at Ariana's silence, he lightly pressed, "I can't protect you, if it turns out to be real."

"He was talking about it, and saying that he'd protect me from it, if we ever took a walk around the woods together." Ariana rolled her eyes, "If someone like him can keep me safe, I think you'll do just fine."

Mumbo's mind conjured an image of what the monster might look like. A big, feathery creature- something light enough to stay in the treetops, but big enough to really do some damage, and warrant the panic. As something came to mind- something that almost looked like a lizard, big enough to tear them both to shreds, and completely covered in feathers- the trees rustled, and Mumbo quickly looked up to catch what it was.

There was nothing there, upon first glance. Ariana noticed his quick reaction, and cackled at the sight of him looking so stressed- but, as the walk continued, he couldn't seem to shake off the nerves. Because, if that monster was real, and they were just waltzing around the area that it was supposed to live in, then they could come across it- and despite fawning over him, and liking him, Mumbo knew that Ariana wouldn't hesitate to throw him to the wolves if it meant saving her own skin.

With her telling the guards to leave them, and with her inviting him to come along- with her bringing it up in the first place, even if just to make fun of him- it made the whole scene feel a lot more sinister. And, coming from someone like her, he wouldn't be surprised if she did have any horrible intentions with this detour.

"Imagine having something like that as a pet." Ariana continued, despite his distress- maybe even because of his distress. “What do you think ‘it’ is?”

Mumbo’s mouth, that was tightly closed until this point, felt hard to peel open. “Maybe it’s just a big bird.”

“Aha?” 

He shrugged. “I can’t really fathom what it could be.”

“Boring.” She looked at her nails, like she really would rather be anywhere but there. But her pace was as slow as ever, maybe even slowing- and Mumbo eyed the setting sun anxiously. His eyes traversed the leaves, looking for something to hold onto, some idea to think of, but-

He felt his heart stop, and with a hitch of his breath he led his eyes back down.

Up in the treetops, covered mostly by the shadow the leaves and branches provide, Mumbo clearly saw the outline of something human-like. 

From just once glance, he could see that its legs perched up on the tree not unlike a bird would, the silhouette becoming more and more unclear as it got to its head- unkempt and blurry- and Mumbo felt any and every sound die in his throat. It was humanoid. Or, maybe, it just had longer limbs- something edging into uncanny, only just human enough, and never actually human at all. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine.

“What?” Ariana asked. And, as per her usual reactions, she only noticed that something was up when he didn’t want her to. He only moved his eyes, his head staying unmoving, pointing forward. “Did you feel the scary monster behind you?” 

As she said it, he felt a light touch on his left shoulder and his head snapped towards it, only to see Ariana’s hand resting on top, digging her nail into the shoulder when he fell for it. She laughed loudly, and Mumbo held back the urge to slap a hand over her mouth. 

If he did that, being taken by the monster would probably be the nicer fate. 

He looked back up again, quickly, hoping that he just didn’t see right.

It was still there. Even worse- it was moving along with them, head following their movements, and then crawling along the tree when they moved too far, somehow switching from tree branch to tree branch without making a single noise. The movement reminded Mumbo of a snake, elegant and dangerous, and it made Mumbo wonder how long they were being followed without either of them noticing.

In fact- maybe he should’ve noticed. Up until they split off, the forest was chatty, and loud with different bird calls and a certain ambience buzzing in the air. But then they took the other path, and besides the sound of their own footsteps, and their candid conversations- Mumbo hadn't heard a single thing from the forest. Nothing despite the wind, and the trees- so quiet that he otherwise wouldn't have noticed.

“Come on.” Her laughter stopped, and her tone started getting to a point where Mumbo should be careful about what he said next. “If you keep being this jumpy you’ll make me nervous.”

“I-” it felt entirely wrong to talk. They should- maybe start running, get out of the forest as quickly as possible. Or if they can’t outrun it, maybe they should play dead, or maybe find a hiding spot- they should do anything, really, except leisurely talking about it, and continuing with their walk. “I’m just worried about the time. Your father wants you home before the sun sets.” He said instead, because pulling attention to the thing above them would only serve to rattle Ariana. Even if it felt wrong, like everything else in this situation, he ripped his eyes off of their pursuer, and started walking a little quicker, and starting to drag Ariana along.

“Hey.” She said, and Mumbo could hear the warning tone in her voice. “I decide when I get home. Not my father, and certainly not you.” It felt like she was digging her heels into the ground to slow down.

“Of course, my lady. But it is getting dark, and if someone were to have followed us from our trip then-”

“Then we would’ve noticed it ages ago.” She halted both of them, and pulled her arm away from his, but when Mumbo looked back up, he swore he could see the glint of sharp teeth between green leaves. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and started desperately tugging her along, but she was like a deadweight behind him, refusing to walk. 

When he looked at her face he knew that being torn apart by the monster would be a kinder future for him. He didn’t let go of her wrist just yet.

Her voice sounded sharp. “I was just praising you for how far you’ve come, Mumbo.”

He shook his head desperately. “Please-”

“Are you ordering me around?”

“No- my lady. No, just, I’ll tell you in a minute, just-”

The words died on his tongue, mouth staying agape. Mumbo couldn’t fathom how- but there was no sound at all as the monster landed right behind Ariana. Nothing besides the sudden rush of wind that could easily be chalked up to a sudden breeze. The monster stayed low to the ground- one hand planted on the ground, knees bent, and its free hand hovering in some sort of anticipated action. 

It was the stillness of a predator. The quiet approach, something that made Mumbo think of a cat, eyes wide as it was following a little fieldmouse.

Ariana followed his line of sight.

And while her fear was usually loud and theatrical- shrieking and gasping and crying- now her breath just hitched, and she quietly pressed herself into Mumbo. As if being quiet and not moving would mean that it couldn't see them.

The eyes were blown wide, the iris looking like it was completely black, eerily contrasting against the white of the eye- and Mumbo saw that its gaze was firmly planted on his face. Silent and unmoving. It felt like a game. Whoever moved first would lose. Or won, maybe, in the monster's case. 

It was pale. Its face haggard, but full enough to suggest that it was eating semi-regularly- if it was some sort of human hybrid. They were wearing clothes- baggy, hanging off of their body like they’ve been stretched out a lot. There were feathers puffed out around their face, and around their unkempt hair.

Besides all that, they looked human, though. Lip jutted forward in anticipation, hand hovering. A deep, low noise crawled out of their throat, and Mumbo knew that it was a warning of some kind.

It was a stand-off, until it wasn’t. Until the monster decided to lunge forward, mouth baring pointed teeth-

And while Mumbo was shocked into inaction, Ariana jumped the moment the monster did, grabbing Mumbo’s hand and running away with a wail that sounded like it came from the bottom of her lungs. They ran, and he constantly felt like there were claws at his neck, catching up with him and tearing through his skin-

(Pulling him in, watching Ariana run without ever looking back, picking away at him until there was nothing left to identity him, rotting away on this forgotten path, dying in fear, dying unhappy, dying-)

He looked back, and there was no monster there.

It was a person. 

Standing on two feet, practiced and natural, further away than he thought they would be. Those same feathers around their face were now hanging limply by their head- and it was such a stark contrast that they kept Mumbo's attention for just a little while longer. They were cradling something in their hands that was blue and square. Mumbo looked from the box, to their face, and saw that they seemed to be watching them leave.

Then he heard Ariana sob, breath heaving and stuttering, and he put his attention back onto her, holding her and guiding her, and his mind was free of fear from one moment to the other. It only left something choked up in his throat, something he couldn’t quite get rid of around Ariana, now more prominent than ever.

He ran steadily, now.

-

(He wanted to pull the hair off his scalp. He wanted to collapse on the floor and scream until he couldn’t, anymore.)

The monster stole Ariana’s earrings.

(How could it have? When did it get close enough to take something out of Mumbo’s pocket? How did he not notice?)

Ariana’s voice was still hoarse, face flushed, and there were tear streaks on her cheek. Still, she talked as if she never ran from anything, ever. Her head wasn’t held quite as high, but it didn’t make her words any less true.

“You get those earrings back.”

“But the monster-”

“Shut up. Either you get those earrings back, or you don’t come back at all. Your choice.”

His choice. 

His choice was set in stone when he became Ariana’s servant. His choice was always her order. His choice had nothing to do with what he wanted. Because he needed to keep this job. And he couldn’t keep the job if he did what he wanted.

With blank eyes, and a barely concealed trembling hand, he turned his back on Ariana, and went to find the damned earrings.

Maybe it would be nicer to be torn apart by the feathered monster.)

-

Mumbo woke up in a strange position, and to the sound of chattering voices above him.

He could distinctly remember grabbing a lantern to take outside, and do what Ariana asked of him- but as his fist closed around the cold metal of the handle, he found himself gripping something else entirely.

It was a blanket, he recognized easily. The same thick, colorful blanket that he laid out earlier for their little picnic. He remained still, but his eyes glanced over the area as he took in his surroundings again- they were still in the same quiet spot that they were in before Mumbo closed his eyes. The sun had gone down a little- not too much, not enough to be concerning, but far enough for him to know that he probably should've been awake by now.

Mumbo's head was still laying on Scar’s lap- although his position shifted sometime in his sleep. Mumbo's head was primarily pressed against Scar’s right leg, and he was laying on his side- eyes far enough away to ensure that Scar wouldn't even notice that he was awake. He didn't even seem to notice his hand moving.

Scar's voice was a pleasant, distant buzz in his ears. He wasn't whispering, but his tone was quiet, and it almost seemed purposefully done so. From where he was laying down, his head faced towards where Grian was sitting on the blanket- and as his eyes raised upward, he realized that Grian was currently listening to whatever Scar was talking about.

As his eyes raised further, he saw that the avian was already looking down at him. As if he'd noticed the small movement he made, and was trying to gauge whether or not he was waking up. But even after they made eye contact, Grian didn't say anything. He just watched him. And, as Mumbo's brain stirred further, he realized that it wasn't the same wide-eyed stare he was treated to, mostly, when it came to Grian.

Grian looked thoughtful- eyes not entirely focused on Mumbo while making eye contact with him at the same time. It almost looked like he was zoning out.

But then Grian’s attention snapped up again. And, seamlessly, he was joining back into the conversation with Scar with a quiet, "It'll be a while before then."

And, with his veil pulled underneath his chin, Mumbo could see Grian's plain smile turn into a grin. He had no idea what conversation he'd landed into, but even though it seemed like he wasn't talking much, Grian was likely in complete control of where it was headed- and he was likely even enjoying the conversation. It wasn't a fake, forced smile. He wasn't pretending to be interested, even if he briefly looked at Mumbo. The sight of it felt surreal.

But the weirdest part about all of it?

Mumbo wasn't fully awake, and just seconds away from falling asleep again. Grian could see him, and knew that he was awake, but he didn't call him out, nor did he point it out to Scar in any way. Scar was, in the meantime, distantly picking at his hair, as if the movements were so natural that he couldn't help but do so. It all felt so… domestic?

He could stay in that moment forever, and he would be happy. That feeling was so prevalent that it was the only reason why he hadn't moved right away. And, by all means, it was something that he should not be feeling. This deep content with Grian? Laying in his lap, feeling the talons lazily scratching his scalp, and practically lazing the day away? Sure. It was something that he expected, with how close the two of them were, and it was something that he knew he was likely going to be present when the two of them were finally over this hitman nonsense, and living off their massive wealth-

But with Scar? Really?

Mumbo slowly sat up. 

Scar's hand pushed against him for a moment, as if expecting the movement- but when he realized that he was sitting up, Scar moved his hand away.

"Welcome back." Scar said, almost warmly, and Mumbo was almost taken aback upon seeing his good mood.

Mumbo looked between him and Grian for a second, before his hand came up to rub at his face.

"I thought you were going to wake me up when Ariana got here." He murmured, throat dry and cracking slightly as he spoke.

Scar shrugged. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“I don’t mind keeping my husband company.” Grian said, softly. “And I don’t mind if you need to sleep in a little. We don’t always have to be up so early.”

“Just keeping up our schedule, my lady.” Mumbo muttered, and he watched with some amusement as Grian’s eyebrows twitched at the title. Then, he looked around, “Where’s your guard?”

“Ariana shook him off.”

Grian held his hand near his mouth, as if he was trying to be polite- or sly. “He’s nice.” He said, “Just a little worried, for the both of us- but, with Mumbo here, and with the two of us awake… I said we’ll be fine on our own, and he left us alone.”

Scar nodded politely. And, as the subject changed, Mumbo let the two of them talk quietly- watching, distantly, as the sun was starting to set behind the trees.

-

They didn’t spend much more time outside.

As soon as the temperature dropped, and Grian started shivering, they all decided it was time to pack it in- and, this time, Mumbo just managed to carry the rolled-up blanket and the empty picnic basket before Scar could get his hands on it-

Which displeased the elf, clearly, but his expression was more playful than genuine.

The walk back up was mostly quiet. Mumbo set down the basket and blanket near Scar’s bed, and Scar waved it off, and said that he’d put everything away later. For now, he wanted to dress down before they had dinner- and Mumbo was more than happy to oblige. The corset looked nice on him, and would’ve been nice to wear for any formal events- but, for now, it was just a slight annoyance.

Grian just threw another nightgown over the one he was already wearing, and then, with the grace of a man who was just set on fire, he shucked off the sleeves of the first nightgown, and then slid it out, kicking it off with his feet. Scar had his back turned and was unbuttoning his jacket. The two were standing close to a corner of the room, not looking at each other and making no attempt to peek. Grian probably would’ve, if he wasn’t preoccupied with trying to pick the discarded clothes up with his foot so he didn’t have to move so much to get to it, but Scar seemed much too respectful for that. 

It was a weird display for Mumbo to stand in the middle of. Of course, just simply ignoring that this was all a fraud anyway- but Grian and Scar were married. Scar was married to Grian, at the very least. And Grian did say it was all because of Mumbo- Scar liked Mumbo, and Mumbo was Ariana’s bodyguard, so- marriage it was!

But Mumbo couldn’t entirely wrap his head around it.

Because Mumbo had seen unhappy marriages, and he’d seen happy marriages, and none of them ever looked like this. It was neither happy nor unhappy, it didn’t even feel like anything in between. It was that frightful way Grian was attentive and content to sit at a picnic with Scar, hanging onto his words and being interested, but not wanting to lay next to Scar in bed. The way that Scar cared for Grian when he was sick like it was second nature, like he never considered doing anything else, but fleeing from his own wedding to dance with Mumbo.

Mumbo, quite frankly, didn’t get it.

“Do you need help?”

He snapped his head up. Scar was looking at him.

In turn, Grian turned around as well, and Mumbo noticed too late that everyone had already changed into their nightwear, except for himself. He looked down, and his thumb was absentmindedly fidgeting with a button of the white shirt. Scar stepped up, straightening up, and started from the top to get all the small and finicky buttons open. Grian, on light feet, swooped next to Scar to tilt his head at Mumbo and watch the action with a neutral expression. His hands were down by his side, palms facing down, and his legs were putting weight on one side, like he was ready to skip away, but softly changing the weight from one foot to another, he stayed.

“You should go through my closet more often,” Scar said quietly, and Mumbo wasn’t even sure that he was supposed to hear that. 

Grian leaned in, resting his hands on Scars shoulder, and then resting his chin on his hands, giving Mumbo a meaningful look. “We should all go shopping together. For Mumbo.”

Rehashing an old plan. Not their worst idea.

“Eh.” Scar pulled a face, and Mumbo could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. “I- you know. I have so many things I don’t wear, it’d be a shame to not try them on. Maybe after we cleaned out my wardrobe.”

“That sounds good too.” And, for a moment, when Grian turned his head to look at Scar, Scar decided to do the same. 

Mere inches apart- a display that would convince anyone they were a lovely little couple, noses almost touching. Mumbo observed the way they stayed like that for a moment, he watched Scar swallow dryly, and he watched Grian’s eyes flicker over Scar’s face. If Mumbo didn’t know any better, it’d be easy to imagine Grian hopping onto his tip-toes, a smile on his face that ranged from sweet to mischievous, and quickly pressing his lips against Scar’s, something, that when Mumbo thought about it, felt like an easy and routine motion.

Instead Grian’s shoulders shuddered as he removed himself from Scar, putting distance between them as he started subtly walking around the room behind Scar, and Scar himself was staring wide-eyed at the buttons he returned to undoing. There were no words spoken during that interaction.

“You don’t like shopping, then?” Grian’s voice didn’t pitch quite right.

“Well… no, not really. My parents usually send a tailor up to make my clothes. I rarely go to get some from the town.”

Grian hummed. “That’s okay. Yeah.” And then, after pacing his tenth round, he started spinning slowly in place. “What about a vacation? Do you want to go somewhere nice?”

Scar’s hands stopped at the last button, and Mumbo could see his jaw clench. “My parents would have to approve that.”

“Approve?”

“Well-” He stumbled a little in his words, but finally started getting the white shirt off of Mumbo. “Not approved. They just- yeah. They would own any vacation houses we might have. I’d have to ask them if we could use any.”

“Your mom doesn’t like me.”

“...” Scar snorted.

“That’s not funny.” Grian crossed his arms.

“It’s a little funny..” Scar’s eyes flickered up to Mumbo, like he wanted him to be in on the joke. “It was just a bit of an understatement, that’s why I laughed.”

“Okay- your mom thinks I’m a freak. Does that sound better to you?”

Scar shook his head. “She doesn’t think you’re a freak. She thinks you’re a troublemaker. And all she ever wanted to do is to keep trouble out of my life.”

“Great job she did…”

He inspected the corset, and his hands ran along it as he was looking for the first knot. Gently, with no force, he pushed Mumbo to make him turn around. Now he could see neither Grian nor Scar. He turned his head just in time to see Scar looking back at Grian.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re any trouble- and even if you are, you’ve been nothing but pleasant and exciting.”

“...I wouldn’t call an assisination attempt pleasant.”

“Now that was hardly your fault.”

Grian said something back- some incessant bickering, something Mumbo was terribly used to, and something that took on a fond and familiar form. But something that became static as Scar’s hands started working along his back. The corset was slowly undone, and it took longer than Mumbo was used to, once again, Scar clearly struggling. His attention was being pulled from the corset to Grian’s voice, and every now and again his pitched chattering would be interrupted by Scar’s deeper tone.

The words themselves drowned somewhere in the room before they reached Mumbo’s brain, but the gentle cadence of their voices lulled him into a comfortable state of relaxation, partly zoning out, partly hyper-aware of Scar’s hands along his skin. Brushing his shoulder blades, tracing his spine- Mumbo didn’t know if the goosebumps on his arms was from the cold air that suddenly hit the exposed skin where the corset loosened up, or because of Scar’s touch.

His breaths felt much deeper than before. He sort of understood what Scar meant before when he said that he liked taking off corsets much more. It was some blissful sort of relief that couldn’t be inflicted without having worn that corset for the entire day like Mumbo had.

Someone knocked at the door. They all jumped, most of all Mumbo who twisted around Scar’s hands to turn to the door.

“Scar?”

It was a servant. Scar was staring at the door. Mumbo felt his face heat up as he looked at the half-opened corset, and he tried to take a few steps back to hide behind the room divider in Scar’s room.

A hand on his waist stopped him.

“A minute,” Scar said firmly.

“Etho’s gonna bring you your dinner,” The servant said. Then there were footsteps, obviously leaving the vicinity. Scar’s fingers seemed more desperate as he tried to get the corset off. Mumbo hoped that Etho would be just as keen on keeping privacy like every other servant in there was. He did not want the guard to walk in on Mumbo like this.

Scar tugged Mumbo a little harshly, and Mumbo stumbled back, trying to stand still. “You’re- you’re tugging me.”

“He’s- he’ll just keep knocking.” Scar sounded annoyed, for some reason. “And then he’ll make me nervous, and I’m gonna mess up the corset- somehow.”

Mumbo crossed his arms over his chest, the undershirt thin and airy. “We can wait til he brings the dinner for you to continue.”

Scar didn’t stop unbinding the knots. His nails were tugging desperately at the ties, and he put a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder for leverage. “But then the food will be cold.”

“Then we eat first?”

“And you’ll be uncomfortable while eating. I’ll just get it off now.”

“It’s really not that bad-”

“This- my back hurts like this, sit down. Or lay down. It’ll be easier-”

Mumbo sat down, and Scar was behind him, position clearly even more uncomfortable as Scar had to bend over to untie the knots. Mumbo was about to right his position, sit up a bit straighter for Scar to have better access- but instead he was pushed down. 

Mumbo made a sound of indignation, but it was muffled by his face being smushed into the mattress. Scar continued his attempts, one leg on the bed. His hand was flat on Mumbo’s back, and in any other situation he could say how nice it felt to have that kind of pressure pushing down on him, but right now, he was distracted by a warmth taking over his entire body, that made him dizzy in a weird way. It didn’t feel unpleasant.

Mumbo pushed himself up, bracing against his elbows, and being slightly elevated did help Scar, and he untied the strings slightly quicker.

Someone knocked. Etho was there.

“Dinner.”

“Hold on.” Scar said, voice clearly controlled.

“I’ll just give it-”

“Hold on!” He yelled now. "I just want to get this stupid corset off." He muttered, quieter, with a clear tone of frustration.

Mumbo’s eyes jumped over to Grian. To his surprise, Grian was sitting there silently, pressed up against the headboard, mesmerized as he watched both of them. He must’ve sat down some time after they did. And after a moment of looking closer, he realized that he was specifically watching Scar’s hands, following the movement of them like he was a frog eyeing a fly.

“Are you going to help?” Mumbo asked quietly. 

Grian's eyebrows pulled together, and he took a second to look down at his hands- down where, usually, there'd be sharp talons on the tips of his fingers instead of short, well-kept fingernails. Then, as if immediately realizing that he could get through the knots of the corset without tearing through it, Grian jumped into action, leaning over Mumbo to help Scar with the corset. Mumbo’s hair was clinging onto Grian’s nightgown, the silky cloth seemingly magnetic to it, and suddenly the warmth in his body increased tenfold, with him being surrounded by two warm bodies. With two pairs of hands helping, it took only a moment before they managed to pull it off.

It was like an instant relief, the pressure easing off of him in an instant. Scar even sighed- muttering something about how he usually wasn't the one taking it off, and how it was a lot more difficult than it looked. Mumbo’s head collapsed onto the bed, and the rest of the corset was pulled out from underneath him. Grian’s not quite clawed hand was in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. Mumbo hummed approvingly, eyes closed. This all felt nice.

But, unfortunately, that relief was short-lived by the sound of more knocking on the door.

"Just a minute!" He called, again.

Then, Scar was pulling at Mumbo’s shoulder- though he was too weak to do anything, Mumbo went along with the motions, and Scar quickly pushed him to be hidden by the room divider. He wanted to pull away just as quickly as he got there, but Mumbo’s hands wrapped around his arms as he was pulled around, and it took him a moment to let go. Even though he was in a rush, Scar took a moment to smile at Mumbo, and left with a small touch to his knuckles- fingers gliding over the skin, and then stopping at his fingertips, gingerly holding onto them for a second too long.

He left for the door, pacing towards it quickly.

“Wait-” Grian hissed. “My feathers!”

Scar turned on his heel, facing Grian. Mumbo couldn’t see much from behind the divider. He couldn’t tell what face he was making. Then, he moved to look around the room, cursing under his breath, and a moment later they were standing toe to toe, and he just saw Grian’s hands lift to hang off of Scar’s arms.

Mumbo wanted to know what was going on behind that divider. He heard rustled fabric, another knock-

Scar’s frustrated huff. “Just come in!”

Then the doorknob turned, and Etho finally entered. Mumbo hid- but, faintly, he could see Scar walk to the door, one hand adjusting his robe.

“...sorry-”

“It’s fine.”

“Where’s…” The guard coughed, awkwardly, “Ariana’s guard?”

“Giving us some privacy.”

“Should I-”

“He’ll be back any minute, now- it doesn’t matter.” There was the sound of trays setting down. “Thank you, Etho- that’ll be all.”

The minute the door was closed, the three of them let out simultaneous sighs of relief.

“Sorry.” Grian said, gingerly, and Mumbo took it as his cue to peek out from behind the divider.

“How do you usually hide your feathers?”

"It's usually with a few hair clips," Grian explained, and although pitched, his voice was strangely gentle. 

Scar had, apparently, thrown his covers over Grian in the rush- and now, he was hunched over a little, and wrapping the blanket around his head. (With how Grian was covered, his old nightgown on the floor near the bed, and with how Scar seemed to be annoyed over the lack of privacy- the implications were clear. And, suddenly, it made sense why the guard seemed to be a little more awkward than usual.)

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Not… hurt. It gets a little uncomfortable after a while. Like wearing a corset."

"Ah." Scar's hand reached out like he wanted to touch it, but he quickly just dropped it again.

"Thank you, Scar."

"What?"

"For keeping it a secret. Genuinely, thank you."

The three of them had dinner, like that. On the floor, just like their first time eating together. But instead of eating properly, like he had on the first night, Grian let himself relax a little- though he was eating properly, he wasn’t as careful. It was as though he looked more open.

And as they were settling in for bed, Mumbo only relaxed for a moment before he felt a hand over his face.

“Your face is hot, Mumbo,” Grian said in his pitched voice, fingers moving to hold his chin. “Are you sick, maybe?”

A second pair of hands joined, and Mumbo sunk a bit further into the mattress. “You’re right… he’s really red too…”

Mumbo used both of his hands to slowly slide theirs off. Then, after a beat, Scar and Grian were laughing at the same time- quiet, teasing snickering upon seeing that Mumbo was entirely unaffected.

Then, with their attention away from him, and with the room finally growing quiet, Mumbo was finally able to shut his eyes, and get some rest.

-

(They heard the sounds of the wedding in the distance. 

Mumbo quietly held onto the nearly empty plate, most of the iced rolls gone within a short amount of time, and Mumbo still tasted the sweetness of them in his mouth.

Grian couldn’t sit still.

The feathers around his head were puffing out slightly. And though it wasn’t too noticeable, the moment Mumbo did notice it, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. The rest of his feathers were under the oversized collar of his poncho, kept hidden after he’d dip his head further down into it.

His leg was bouncing as he was talking, and the sight of him moving around so much, and so freely was starting to make Mumbo feel a little jealous.

"Do you want a wedding like that?" Grian jumped from one topic to another, but finally paused, eyes wide as he stared at Mumbo for his answer.

Mumbo frowned. "Eh?" He shrugged.

"What. Not like that?"

The truth was, Mumbo didn't think much about his own wedding. Or at all. Maybe, if he wasn't in the position he was in right now- maybe, if he was still just a general servant, working for the family, but not answering to the princess specifically, he would've developed a sense of urgency by now. That he needed to find someone to settle down with, or at the very least to be close to- fantasizing about getting married and having a family and…

Mumbo knew that that future was taken before he even considered it properly.

"I don't want to get married," He said instead, because he didn't quite think that Grian would understand what he'd be telling him.

Besides, part of him didn't want to tell Grian. It seemed like something shameful, buried deep in his chest. It felt like something he wasn't allowed to say, a forbidden little thing he couldn't get rid of.

What would Grian even think of him? Grian was strangely opposite to him, independent and wild, someone who clearly knew what they wanted, and strived to get it. Mumbo was so much more passive in his life, and it was something Grian seemed to look down on- or, well, he couldn't quite tell what Grian thought.

It would be something to look down on, probably. If you were as decisive as Grian was, someone easy-going, and yet so intense-

Mumbo didn't understand why they were friends.

"What's so bad about a wedding?" Grian sprawled comfortably across the grass, and Mumbo wanted to relax alongside him, but he didn't want too much dirt on his clothes. "There's no one you like?"

He was sitting there casually, and his body language seemed to imply that he was only mildly interested. But his eyes were as terribly intense as always, jumping at every one of Mumbo's small movements.

Even if there was someone he liked, Mumbo thought… it was probably better that he didn't.

"Aren't we too young to be thinking about weddings?"

"Never too young to think about anything," Grian said under his breath. "Isn't your girl already swooning over her wedding? She's our age."

"My lady," Mumbo corrected. His face pulled into a grimace. "Don't call her that. And she's older than me."

"By what, a year?"

"Two," Mumbo courtly responded. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Your wedding."

Grian hummed, and slowly laid onto his back. His arms were behind his head, and he was looking up at the tree tops as he was considering the question. "I've never actually been to one. What do you do at a wedding?"

"You marry someone."

"Yeah, obviously." Grian rolled his eyes. "But how? What happens?"

"I guess- well. There's a priest there. And he certifies the marriage. And then you say your vows."

"Vows?"

"Like, promises. That you'll stay with them forever, or something. Even if they get sick."

Grian laughed. "So… Mumbo, will you stick by my side, even if I keep stealing the sweets from your table?"

"Uh. No, it's more like- I'd say that I will stick around, even if you keep stealing from us."

"So you just made a vow?"

"No, I made an example-"

Grian laughed once again, snickering mischievously. "I guess I'll stick around- even if the company you keep is horrid."

"I'm not exactly keeping them."

"Yeah." And Grian's voice suddenly sounded strangled. "They're keeping you."

Grian didn't look like he was making a joke. In fact, his expression was sour as he stared up. Mumbo didn't have anything to say against that. Grian wasn't wrong, he just- didn't expect him to seem so angry over it.

After a few seconds, Grian's expression seemed to soften. He sat up.

“Do you want to dance?”

The music in the background was faint. It was a wedding, after all, and the guests were still cheering, and set on dragging on the whole event throughout the night- even at the expense of the servants that were working so hard to upkeep it. And, normally, some servants would have certain places, and would occasionally swap out throughout the whole event-

But Ariana had insisted that he should stay awake and work throughout it. If she had to get up early, and if she had to stay up, then he should, too- even if she was left to drink and enjoy the festivities with all of her friends and possible suitors while he was left without a moment of rest.

“My legs are tired.” He said. And maybe, if he wasn’t as tired, then he would’ve taken him up on that offer, and let loose a little- but his legs enjoyed the reprieve from standing, and he was going to stay sitting for just as long as he could get away with it.

Grian only looked dejected for a moment. Then, his leg went back to bouncing- but as Mumbo picked up a roll, his eyes moved back to Grian’s leg, and he noticed that his leg bouncing was lined up almost perfectly with the beat of the music.

Then, Grian put his own roll down, sticking it in Mumbo’s free hand.

“Watch me, then.” He said, and Mumbo’s eyes followed him as Grian stood up, and stood in front of the tray of iced rolls. Then, that same leg that’d been bouncing swerved, and Mumbo watched as Grian started to dance.

It was- strange. That was the only way that Mumbo could possibly describe it. First, his eyes were on Grian’s legs- watching them shift, and cross, and watching his feet tap as he seemingly started to get a feel for the type of music that was playing. But then, just as quickly, his gaze was ripped upward.

Grian had a red, woolen poncho on. And while usually, the poncho was only eye-catching because of its design and color, Grian started using his arms as he danced. At first, he kept his head low, and he kept his arm moving by his elbow in a circular motion- keeping his eyes on Mumbo as his poncho moved underneath it. Then- seemingly, as the music amped up, he threw his arms out, and the poncho moved along with him. Then he was keeping his arms up, and near his face- and it’s then that Mumbo realized that the feathers around his head were moving along with the rest dance.

It moved with his arms- stretching out to their full span as Grian kept his own arms out, confident instead of threatened, unlike every other time they’ve been puffed out like that. And as Grian’s arms moved upward- crossing above his head at the wrist, showing off the feathers that were collecting near the base of his arms- the feathers around his head stretched up and around his head like a circular halo.

In that small, fraction-of-a-second sort of moment, the lighting from the party did him justice. His head was mostly illuminated around his eyes- and while the eye contact that Grian was trying to keep with him was normally terrifying, with how wide his eyes were- they felt just a little more… intense, at that moment. And while Grian continued moving, and the poncho kept moving as he danced, Mumbo’s eyes were held on the eye contact that Grian was continuously trying to keep.

Just hours before this- back when Mumbo was rushing to help Ariana get ready for the wedding, doing her makeup and throwing her hair up in a style that’d flatter her face- he was met with an impossible question. She stood much taller than Grian, especially in heels, reaching just a little past Mumbo’s height- and she asked him how he thought she looked.

And while he was normally cautious of responding, and she was normally asking questions like that to throw him for a loop, and mess with him, the answer was easy. He could’ve cycled through many of them. Yes, my lady. You’re radiant, my lady. Red is a good color on you, my lady, you should consider wearing it more often- but he just hesitated before he responded with something noncommittal.

Ariana had smiled- pleased with an answer for once, as if she was mistaking his moment of silence for something that was supposed to be flattering- but all Mumbo could think about when he saw it was Grian. Grian had worn that dress before she had. And though the dress didn’t fit Grian’s thin frame well, clearly not meant for him, and though he spent a lot more time on making sure that Ariana’s appearance was acceptable, he knew that he liked it better on Grian.

Ariana looked nice, sure, but in comparison to Grian?

Mumbo couldn’t take his eyes off him.

And sure, while he moved nicely around in a poncho, Mumbo imagined him with a long, flowy skirt on- and he imagined how much more captivating it would’ve been. Grian wearing a shock of bright red, but not even needing the color to stand out. It felt so much more natural. Ariana could be pretty, and terrifying, but she could never be as captivating as Grian was no matter how hard she tried.

Then, the song stopped with an abrupt clash of instruments. There were faint cheers, and claps- but Mumbo was entirely focused on the way Grian’s dance came to a close. Even as the music stopped, it didn’t adhere to it anymore- and Mumbo watched and listened to the rhythmic sound of his footsteps tapping across the limited space he used for the dance before he stopped.

Grian was breathing a little hard. When Mumbo smiled, and nodded- his face brightened in an instant.

“Did you like it?”

“It was- interesting.” He put it lightly, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

The feathers twitched around his head. Grian’s eyes darted between Mumbo’s- suddenly turning left, then right- before he made a strange noise in the back of his throat. Something that was close to a chirp, but raspier- adding to the usual raspiness of his voice.

“It’s… an avian dance.” He explained, a little sheepishly- and Mumbo swore in the dim light that Grian’s face was blotchy and red- but whether it was flushed from overexertion, or from embarrassment was completely unknown to him. “I could teach it to you.”

“I didn’t think it had a pattern to it,” Mumbo said a little quietly, and Grian’s nerves seemed to wash away in an instant.

“It doesn’t. Not… really. But there are certain motions that are definitely…” His arms moved as he spoke, “Repeated.”

“Hm.” Mumbo said, with as much interest as he could inflict in a hum.

“It looks a lot better when an avian with actual wings does it.” He added, “A lot of the moves I was doing would’ve looked so much better, with them.”

“You were doing well with your feathers.”

Said feathers ruffled, and Grian’s face lit up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah-”

"Mumbo?" They heard his name called faintly, in the distance- like whoever was saying it was just far enough to be out of earshot if they were quiet. "Mumbo!"

He didn’t recognize the voice- he couldn’t put it to any familiar faces, anyway- but he knew that it must’ve come from another servant. And judging by the way the ambience of the party never died down even as they yelled, he guessed that they were just far enough away to be unheard by party guests- and that meant that Mumbo was too far.

His heart sank, and his legs hurt, but he knew that he had to get back to work. If a servant, of all things, was calling out for him, then that meant that something was off, and Ariana needed him.

“Duty calls.” He muttered, with a clear disappointed tone- but the moment he tried standing up, using the ground to help him up, Grian grabbed his hand. 

Mumbo slowly sat back down on the grass, with Grian gently leading him. Then, one hand on Mumbo’s turned into two, and Grian was practically cradling his hands together.

"Mumbo!" The servant called, again, but it was so faint- and Grian was right there.

“Come with me.”  And he tugged on his hands, but it was less him trying to pull him somewhere- because Mumbo was very familiar with how strong he could be, when he wanted to be- and more like… he was testing the waters.

“What?”

"I've seen how she treats you." He said. And, as he spoke, that same low warble came back into his voice, and nearly distorted his words. He spoke stiffly, as if it was difficult to. "You shouldn't go back to her. We could go off together. You and me- we can leave, and never come back." The hands tightened, "I want you to come with me. You're a very dear friend of mine, and you shouldn't… be stuck here, with people like them."

And- the offer was tempting.

But Grian didn’t have a home to come back to. He slept in trees, and bushes- and Mumbo was partially convinced that the only reason he stuck around was because Mumbo consistently left food out for him. Just a few months ago, he'd compare Grian to a stray cat- enjoying his company mainly because he could get something he wanted out of it. 

Mumbo left out scraps for him whenever he could- anything that Ariana wanted thrown away would be given to him first, to see what he made of it. Sometimes, it was clothes. Old shoes that weren’t particularly fancy, but fit Grian well enough. Old, broken jewelry that Grian could easily sell at a low price. A lot of the time, he’d make sure to leave out burned bread- or any sort of food that could disappear without her or the rest of the family noticing.

He was prickly, most of the time, and it took Mumbo a while to realize that the avian had been trying to be his friend, instead of antagonizing him.

But now, Grian just looked earnest. Horribly, horribly sincere. And it was throwing him for a loop. "Where would we go?" He asked, anyway, despite already knowing what kind of answer he was going to get.

"Anywhere! We can go anywhere.”

“Mumbo!” The servant called, and they were closer that time.

“I’ll see you later.” He promised, to Grian’s obvious dismay. “Maybe, after Ariana goes to bed, we can stop by her animal pens. She has a lot of exotic animals that I have to feed sometimes- how does that sound?”

“Think about it.” He said, feathers drooping miserably around his head.

“I can’t just uproot my life to- leave on a whim.”

“What life? You’re just… serving her- and you could be so much happier. Are you even considering leaving this for something better?”

Mumbo pointedly ignored the pang he felt in his chest. He had a life here. He had a warm, stiff bed. He had someone to serve- and though she was a handful, and Mumbo would much rather do anything else… he’s also never done anything else.

And even though running away with a strange friend he’s made was so horribly tempting, he was also young. He wasn’t even 15 yet. Running away from his home, and starting a life with a new job in a new place was something that people much older than him would do.

“Fine- I will.” He said, even though he wouldn’t even be thinking about going through with it for another year or so at least. “I need to go now, though- I’ll see you later.”

“Later tonight?” Grian called out as Mumbo stood up again, breaking his hold to start rushing in the direction of the servant. The avian sounded hopeful.

“If I can.” He said, before he left.

It didn’t take long before he ran into the servant that’d been calling out to him. The moment they saw him, they sighed in relief, and wiped their hands off on the apron wrapped around their dress.

"Ariana is looking for you." The servant said gravely, dipping their head and showing their exhaustion through the bags under their eyes. “She’s very angry.”

-

The moment Ariana saw him again, her arms unfolded, and she stomped towards him with an angry, fiery look in her eyes.

She clamped her nails around his arm, and practically dragged him upstairs into her room- completely ignoring the rest of the festivities, and people calling out to her as she passed them. The servants passing them gave Mumbo wide-eyed, sympathetic glances- as if they already knew what was going to happen long before he did.

Mumbo tried to tell her something- that he was inside, helping in the kitchen, or looking for something, someone- a convincing lie, an alibi to ease her anger- but she practically shoved him into her room, and slammed the door shut behind her.

"You left me!" She yelled, and Mumbo immediately winced. It was an awful start, and he knew that it was just going to get worse from there, no matter what he tried to do or say.

"I was just-" She kept approaching, and before Mumbo knew it, he was backed against the wall. He pressed himself flat against it, like he could sink into it and disappear. He didn't. But the closer she got, the more he wanted to.

"You were just- just- you were doing nothing!" She was so close that he felt her breath on his face as she screamed, small droplets of spit flying out. "I got hurt," She said gravely, tone edging dramatically. "I got hurt, and my dress tore, and I was looking everywhere for you." With a quiet tone she grabbed his collar, tightening her fist against it and searching his eyes. "Everywhere."

"I know, I know, I just-"

"You know?" She laughed bitterly. "You know what, Mumbo? What do you know? Do you know how humiliated I got? You should've been there. That is quite literally the only reason I keep you around!"

“...” Mumbo swallowed. He just needed to bear it. Get through it- and, when she was feeling better, he could slip away again, and lead Grian through all the different pens of the different animals that Ariana kept on her property. "I'm sorry."

"You will be." She took on a tone that Mumbo didn't like at all. Her grip on his collar loosened, and she tapped a finger against his chest. "You don't understand anything at all. But this time, being stupid isn't a good excuse, Mumbo. I told you, I told you I was going to socialize with some important people today." And the rage in her eyes brightened, and with every other word she brought up her flat palm up to hit his chest in a way that made the air leave his lungs with a grunt. "I was probably supposed to marry one of these stupid boys that saw me embarrass myself, and call for you- and you never came! They watched me look and ask around for a servant that doesn’t stick by my side! You- you made me and my family look like a bunch of fools! They think we employ people that are solely incompetent!"

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I swear I-"

"And what-" Her voice was petulant- whiny, whiny, whiny- grating on his ears. "What am I supposed to do with your useless apology?!" Her face twisted into a forced smile, ugly and angry. "And it's barely a proper one. If anything, you should be begging at my feet for you to be allowed to stay here."

Mumbo paled. He imagined the motion of pulling a bowstring taut. Then he imagined pulling further and further, string digging into his skin. "You wouldn't-"

"I would. I can tell my father to fire you right now. I don't care if he's sleeping with his new wife, I can barge in there and he will listen- and by God, if you don't kneel and try to convince me, I will drop you right now."

The bowstring frayed at the edges. A familiar, almost comforting, anger washed over him, and settled in his gut.

He fell to his knees. "I'm sorry.” He said, and hoped that his voice sounded how she wanted it to. “I'm so sorry. I don't- it won't happen again. I promise, I will be more attentive, I will-"

The tip of her shoe tapped against his knee, and he protectively wrapped his hand over it. He looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed, and teeth gritted under his closed mouth. He’s been told that his resting face always looked so sad, and he strained to keep it that way. "What was so important that you had to leave the party?"

Her tone was flat, and her face was blank. She was judging his reaction, or his answer.

Mumbo paused, mouth in a firm line. 

He didn't want to stay here, but he needed to. He hated the people he worked with, and even amongst the servants, he was one of the youngest, none of the others were particularly interested in talking to him. But he had a bed, and he ate every day, and he had a roof over his head- and when Ariana wasn't angry she was fine to be around, even if it was a chore- "I saw someone steal food. So I followed to try and confront them."

Her eyebrows quirked up, and her head tilted. "So you were heroically trying to chase after some thief?" She asked, clearly still annoyed. But Mumbo must've said the right thing, because her tone settled.

"Yes." He said, and he hoped the relief wasn't audible to her. "I will set my priorities straight, next time, and just-"

The sound of a slap rang out. 

Mumbo's head was turned to the side. It took him a minute before his hand came up to rest on his cheek, soothing the pain that was slowly dissipating from it. The skin was hot to the touch, and it was likely red.

"How dare you lie to me." She spat. Then her hand reeled back, and she did it again, her hand against the same cheek, less clumsy that time and it hurt worse. His cheek and his eyes stung, but his teeth grit, and he bared through it. "I'll have my father be notified immediately that we'll be needing a replacement for you."

"I'm not- it was the iced rolls, he took them and-” His voice shook.

"How stupid do you think I am?" And, at the sight of him on the ground, hand on his cheek and tears in his eyes, she looked at him in nervous anger, eyes jumping around his face and body language. "One of the servants told me that you befriended that street rat that likes to hide in the trees. You feed it scraps, and you keep it on our property."

Taut bowstring. It was like he heard a high pitched sound, parts of the frayed string breaking. He stared up, mouth agape.

"Nothing to say?” She asked, with a mocking lilt in her voice, “I don't care what you do with it, but you put our family's image in jeopardy by hanging out with some dirty thief- and for what? To spite us? To clearly show us that you’re ungrateful for every job and opportunity we’ve given you?"

"No…"

She let out a self-important sound. "It doesn't matter. As of today, you're fired. And for your little street rat- I'm sure we'd be doing the town a huge favor by supplying the local guards with descriptions of his appearance."

“What-?”

“He could get hanged for his crimes.” Ariana taunted boldly, head turned upward- always so confident, and always so- above him. Even as she kneeled down, and reached his level- never breaking eye contact- there was a power she had about her, and Mumbo was slowly being crushed. “Or shot, if my suitors get to him first.” And, instead of backing it up, she pressed, taking a moment to look outside her window. “We were so certain he was an animal, weren’t we- would it be unethical to keep him as a sort of trophy after he’s hunted? Like that animal rug in my father’s study. It’s exotic.”

“...”

She sighed.

“And to think- all of it could’ve been avoided if you just did what you were told. What a waste of a servant.”

And then- taut, frayed, breaking apart- the bowstring snapped. 

A year’s worth of pent up anger, and frustration suddenly rushed out- and before he could think too much about it, Mumbo lurched at her.

He registered her trying to back up, the last thing he heard her say was, "What are you doing-" But he was not looking at her at all- but instead the hairpin in her hair.

One that was sharp, and easy to rip out.)

-

Mumbo woke up with Grian and Scar at his side- but nobody was awake with him.

The bed was big, and for once, both of them were keeping their distance from him. Scar was resting on his side and facing away from them, and Grian was sleeping on his back- arms splayed out on the pillow above his head, and somehow just managing to keep his distance from Mumbo.

Ever so slowly, Mumbo inched just a little closer to Grian, and tried to fall back asleep.

-

The three of them fell into some kind of routine that lasted for a few days.

They all slept in Scar’s room, with Mumbo always sleeping in the middle, and the two of them sleeping on the ends. Sometimes, he’d wake up with one of them getting a little too close- but they’d always wake up, and the three of them wouldn’t mention it in the morning.

They’d go through with their morning routine. Grian would continue switching through nightgowns, hoping that none of the dresses they got were too badly ruined by the body in the wardrobe, if to have something else to change into. (But, strangely, every time Scar offered to give Grian something nice to wear, he’d decline, and say that he was waiting for the room to be cleaned.)

They’d spend the day together- not doing anything notable, but on the outside, to anyone looking in, the three of them almost looked… normal. Grian was comfortable around Scar. Mumbo was the same, when Grian was around-

But then, at times, Grian would leave him and Scar alone- winking, and subtly trying to get the two of them closer while doing… whatever he could do to pass the time in another room, apparently. With Scar close, Grian wouldn’t disclose what it was- but he’d leave with his veil on, and sometimes come back with Scar’s guard, as if subtly saying to Mumbo that he was distracting him, and that he was in the clear.

It happened often. Often enough for Scar to comment on it, and say that Grian seemed to be a little antsy. Mumbo would say that it was okay, as long as someone that was trusted was near him-

And then, Scar would try to get close to him. Sitting close, talking with him at a distance that wasn’t appropriate for people like them to be sitting at, just as Grian was hoping for… And, despite his better judgement, Mumbo would instinctively pull away. Knowing what he was supposed to do with him, and knowing what Grian was expecting… Mumbo was put in an uncomfortable position. And even though it was just the two of them, and he would usually feel just fine around Scar-

It was different.

It felt like no progress was being made at all.

-

The room did, eventually, get cleaned.

And after showing off the new room, Scar left the two of them on their own- telling them that he had a few things to take care of, but that he’d be back later- just in time to eat with them, just as they’ve been doing for the past few days.

Mumbo set down everything he took from their room- the jewelry, the nightgowns- and put them on the table. As Grian casually looked through the room, at the spots that’d been cleaned, Mumbo stood by the door, and hesitated.

“They did a good job…” Grian murmured, as he looked through the clean wardrobe- one that had his dresses hanging up in them, likely clean and ready for him to wear again.

But before he could continue, Mumbo finally spoke- and it was almost like a dam breaking.

“I don’t know if I want to kill Scar.” Mumbo said, and the confession made Grian freeze.

He whipped his head around, and faced Mumbo- looking entirely shocked at the confession. His hand lingered near the wardrobe, but as Mumbo continued to say nothing, cementing the claim in, Grian slowly closed it.

“You’re- backing out?” He asked awkwardly, his head dipping as he did so.

Something in Mumbo’s stomach sank at Grian’s tone. Even though he was trying to come off like he was casual, it was still tinged with disappointment- or frustration. And it matched Mumbo’s frustration with the whole situation as well. 

After they took on the mission to kill Scar, something changed along the way, and Mumbo’s had to deal with… very unfamiliar feelings along the way. Major uncertainties and anxieties, mixed with something underlying it all- it made everything a lot more complicated than it had to be.

He didn’t like it.

But he couldn’t get rid of it. He couldn’t even name what it was. The longer he spent there- the more he was with Scar, and the more he was trying to find a way to kill him- the more he stressed about it, and the less he wanted to do it. He tried giving himself an out- saying that it was just perfectionism that was dragging him down, or that it was just the uncertainty of not being used to killing anyone- but the more he thought about it, the more he knew that it wasn’t true.

“No.” He said, and he couldn’t stop himself from sounding just as disappointed. “But… I don’t know if I can get close to him, like that. In a way he might like. I don’t know if I can kill him without… freezing up.” He rubbed his palms together, “That’s usually your job… maybe we shouldn’t risk it. If I can’t do it, I don’t want everything falling apart because of me.”

“You seemed to be very close, when we were having that picnic.” He teased.

“That was an accident.”

Grian hummed.

"Right," Then, suddenly, he was being pulled along. Grian led him to the side of their newly made bed, and he slightly turned to him and smiled, like he was trying for an earnest expression. “Do you need help?”

“With- what?”

“With… getting close enough to him. Faking intimacy.”

“...yes?”

“I can help you.” Grian said, and he sat up a little straighter, “Let’s run through a scene, together- I’ll pretend to be Scar, okay? Let’s try this out. Let’s practice.”

"Okay," If that was how Grian was going to show him how to kill a man, “...how do we do this?"

“Okay.” Grian repeated, before he cleared his throat, “Ah- mazin'.” He said quietly, voice just a little too raspy, but otherwise a perfect copy of Scar’s. Mumbo wondered how long he’d been working on perfecting it- if he had been working on it at all. “Ah-mazin’.” He said, again, and that time, it was more on point. “Hello.”

“Hello.” Mumbo parroted.

“Imagine we’re sitting in Scar’s- my little gazebo, again.” He said in an almost perfect rendition of Scar’s voice- hitting the same tones that he would, usually, in front of the two of them. “Close your eyes-” And, though hesitant, he did so, “-imagine the river running past it. Or- imagine my garden, actually. Or the spot we had a picnic in, with all the wildflowers-”

Mumbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “Please make up your mind.”

Grian paused with a quiet snort.

“Okay. Just… imagine the picnic. We’re sitting together because you and I have finally found a moment of peace away from my guard, and… my horrible, horrible wife.” Mumbo huffed out a laugh, and Grian somehow managed to keep his voice straight as he continued. “Just the two of us. No servants around. Nobody else is watching. What’s your first thought?”

“We’re alone.”

“Good- we're alone. And- you can’t see it, but I’m leaning towards you, and I’m interested in being close to you.”

“If I killed him, how long would it take for anyone to find out?”

“If you killed me right now, you’ll have just the right amount of time to be able to cover it up.”

“And what would we do after that, Grian?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m Scar, and I’m just interested in being in this moment with you.” Mumbo huffed. “We’re leaning into each other, and we’re talking- what do you do next?”

Mumbo’s mouth was a little dry, suddenly.

“I… talk.”

Grian hmphed. “Fine. What are we talking about?”

“Anything. He’ll talk about anything.”

He hummed.

Then, suddenly, his voice was back to normal, and he was back to sounding frustrated. “What’s missing here, Mumbo? What is he like when you talk?”

Scar is…

Quiet when he talks, but goes on when he knows that Mumbo, or someone else is giving him his full attention. There is never a dull moment between them- and it’s similar to how he feels when he’s hanging out with Grian. (If he was hanging out with Grian with the underlying need to kill him, anyway. That bit always ruined the moment.) “He’s…” Unbearably good company. Charming. Frustrating. Grian should know that, by now, since it seemed like he was enjoying his company too. “...touchy, sometimes.”

“Mhm?” Grian encouraged, voice pitched again.

“He likes leaning in close when he talks to me. He’ll- bump my shoulder when we walk together, or bump my knee. And… he’ll grab my hand, sometimes, or just my arm…” Or, when he thought it was just the two of them, he’d cup Mumbo’s cheek, and talk quietly- or, when he thought Mumbo was asleep, he’d play with his hair.

“Scoot closer.” And, without much hesitation, he did- moving closer to Grian, and briefly bumping his knee against his. “It feels a little one-sided, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fake intimacy, Mumbo. I’m leaning close, speaking low. And you’re…?”

“Stagnant?”

“A little awkward.” He said, smoothly- then, he moved to hold his hand, and swiped his thumb over Mumbo’s palm. With his voice pitched, he muttered, “Are your palms sweating-?”

Mumbo's face heated up. He hated the way it sounded in Scar's voice. “Dude.”

Grian’s laugh was light. And, just as quickly, his hand was removed. Mumbo pretended not to hear Grian wiping his hand off on his nightgown.

“You’re trying to catch me off guard, and you’re trying to make me think that you’re interested in me, too. What do you do?”

“I… lean close. To mirror you.”

“Okay?” Mumbo leaned down a little, and Grian moved his face a little to fix his posture- so he'd still be facing him- hand guiding him by the chin. “And?” Grian continued, in a considerably lower voice.

“I show my interest.”

Mumbo was the wrong guy for this. 

He hesitantly put his hand on where he thought Grian's shoulder would be, but it ended up landing somewhere near his upper arm. Then, slowly, without thinking, he gently patted it.

Grian snorted, and his voice was normal again, "Are you consoling him? Mumbo- he obviously likes you. Be more… risque!"

"I-" Mumbo pulled his mouth into a thin line. "I don't know…" His friend must've seemed to realize that Mumbo was more of a hopeless case than he first assumed, because he sighed.

Mumbo hesitantly reached out. And, while keeping his eyes closed, he aimed to put his hand over Grian’s- which had been previously idly kept on his lap after wiping his hand off. But he misjudged. And, seconds later, his hand fell on Grian’s lap, and rested somewhere around his knee. Grian’s breath hitched in surprise. But just as he started to pull back, Grian’s hand shot out, and guided his hand back to rest on his knee. Grian pushed Mumbo’s hand into his leg, as if to keep him from moving it away- but Mumbo knew that he’d be able to pull away if he wanted to.

“Is this fine?” Mumbo asked anyway.

“You're fine.” Grian said quickly, putting up the Scar facade. “I’m surprised. You’re- not usually forward like this when we talk. You’re always so reserved.”

“Is that bad?”

“No- maybe something has changed.” He paused, “Or… maybe it’s been like this the whole time, and I just haven’t seen it.”

Mumbo's hand twitched on Grian's leg. The silk of the nightgown caught on the rough skin of his hand. He nodded.

"Right." Grian said, and it sounded like he was mostly talking to himself- and it was somewhat comforting to know that Grian probably wasn’t looking at him so intensely. "And maybe he'll look down a bit, maybe he'll be a bit flustered- but it's not enough. Make something up to talk about, don't look away from his face... and as he's talking, slowly- slowly-" He hitched Mumbo's hand up, from the knee to his upper thigh. "And he'll definitely notice it."

His hand curled inward, and Grian's hand pulled away slightly. Mumbo kept his hand there. "But… what then?" 

He took a moment, "Gosh, Mumbo- it should all go sorta naturally from here. I don't know. Get closer."

Mumbo immediately scooted closer. Now his hand on Grian's thigh was angled weirdly, so instead, he put it around him on his lower back.

"Good, good, just- do that more smoothly next time…" Grian sounded unsure for a moment. Mumbo understood- for Grian, this interaction went over sort of automatically, and there wasn't all that much thinking required. Either he just had a more innate sense for interpersonal interactions, or he'd been doing it long enough during their jobs to have the motions down. "Scar seems bolder than this, doesn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"He likes you, sure, but I feel like if you made your first move- I mean, we're not aiming for subtlety, then maybe…" Grian thought it over one more second, before slowly swinging his leg over Mumbo, and more or less sitting on his lap. Mumbo immediately moved to steady him, hands resting on his waist. “Is this okay?” He asked quietly.

“Yes-” But, still, his eyebrows furrowed. "I can't imagine Scar doing this."

"I can. Mumbo, you barely noticed him being head over heels for you. It's fine. Trust me."

There was a hand on his chest. Suddenly, he was gently shoved- Mumbo's back hit the bed, and he waited for a moment for Grian’s further instructions, trying to get into that environment Grian put him in. 

Then he imagined himself in the hedge maze. The wedding, the fountain… Scar leaning into him, putting his head on his shoulder. The two of them getting closer, and closer-

In this scenario, it wouldn’t be a dance. Mumbo would be on the bench, or in the grass- and Scar would still be so impossibly close to him.

Breathlessly, he pushed out, "Grian, we’d be in public-”

“Scar.” He corrected gently, in that low voice.

“-Scar, we're in public, we can’t be doing this in public- last time-" Cub walked in on them dancing, and Scar was hiding behind Mumbo as he approached the two of them, Mumbo didn’t know how he could stomach Cub walking in on this. 

Grian climbed up, hovering as to not put his full weight on Mumbo. His breath was hot against Mumbo's ear. "You moved to the bed then- you two moved to the bed."

Mumbo's face scrunched, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of the sudden scene change. Just as quickly, the hedge maze was gone, and replaced by the sight of Scar's bedroom from the view of the bed. "How? I don't- how would we have-"

Grian's hands moved to rest on Mumbo's arms. "You carried him."

"I did not do that."

"You're strong enough, aren't you?" He squeezed his biceps. "He's sitting on your lap, and you just pick him up, and walked until you two fall onto the bed."

"I'm not doing that-"

"Then he carried you-" And he paused, leaning away just a bit, and Mumbo was tempted to look at the face he was making. "You like that, don't you?” Said Scar’s voice, “You're getting all red, you-"

Suddenly, the image was a little too vivid.

"No, It's embarrassing! I'm red because it's embarrassing-"

"And he carries you and lays you down and- and his hand slips under your clothes, and-" He did as he said, his cold hand dipping under Mumbo's white shirt, "And you like it!"

"Shut up!"

Grian cackled, and Mumbo’s chest shook with muted laughter, mouth cracking into a wide smile. His eyes were closed, but he imagined how Grian must’ve looked right then- laughing, and not taking it too seriously… and, in a strange way, it helped him. His muscles relaxed. It was natural, with Grian- and it could be natural with Scar, once he got over his nerves.

"What do you do now?" Scar’s voice prompted.

"I don't know, I don't know!" His tone was loose, "It seems like he's doing more than me at this point!"

Grian leaned down, chin resting on Mumbo's chest- and Mumbo imagined that he must've looked like a cat in that moment- right when it was about to pounce on something of interest. He couldn't tell if he was supposed to be imagining Grian there, or Scar. Either way, it gave him the same bubbling feeling in his chest. "Show a more dominant side!"

Mumbo’s face then screwed up. "Would he not be put off?"

"No, no- never! Mumbo, just take a dive into a person's psyche-" He said that, like he knew what he was saying. "A rich prince, moved by the whims of some servant-"

"He's not a prince-" He protested, weakly, but Grian carried on like he wasn't saying anything. 

"-the forbidden love, the taboo- it's like you don't have a single romantic bone in your body! He'll think it's hot!" He grabbed Mumbo's hand, and put it on his own thigh again, and at this point, Mumbo got the drill- slipping it underneath Grian's nightgown, then his other hand followed, and soon enough he was holding onto Grian by his hips, hands tentatively tapping against his skin there and pushing him to sit down properly.

"Come on, use your hands more, do more, get him all pent up-" Mumbo's hand slipped up further, carefully tracing his spine, and Grian's voice shook a little as he continued, "Right- that's right, he'll be all up in your ear like- oh, Mumbo," He replicated Scar's voice, and Mumbo was tempted to shove at him- or just outwardly laugh at the absurdity of it all. It was hard to imagine Scar like this, even if Grian was replicating his voice, but he could tell that he wasn't really trying to put on a character anymore, and more just teasing him. "Let's run away together, let's live together forever, I need to be with you- take me any way you want-!" Grian voice hitched in his throat. Then, he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. "Well, you know. And so on."

The hand on Mumbo’s disappeared.

Moments later, there was a hand that rested on his cheek. Grian carefully brushed his thumb against his face. Mumbo’s head tilted to lean into it.

He almost flinched when the top of his forehead pressed against Grian’s. They’re close. 

Mumbo imagined it as if he were with Scar. 

It’s just the two of them. It’s just another one of their talks, sitting in the grass- taking a break from getting a nice tour around the property. Scar is leaning into him, and only getting closer- and Mumbo isn’t moving away from his advances. Instead, he’s nervous, and he’s thinking too much about it- but then he takes his chances, and he’s putting his hand on Scar’s leg.

Scar’s surprised at first to see that Mumbo is trying to reciprocate his affections. And when Mumbo thinks that he took it too far, and he starts to pull away, Scar is there to quietly reassure him that he’s fine, readjusting his grip, and making sure that his hand stays there, just like Grian had when they were practicing. He likes the pressure of his hands against him. Scar’s thumb swipes over the top of his hand, and he keeps talking, as if it’s all normal. 

As if he wants it to be normal.

And then he’s getting closer, as they talk. And Grian might say that Scar would be flustered, but Mumbo can’t imagine it quite like that- Scar would still look earnest, even as he's bringing him to his bedroom- guiding him by the hand, maybe, instead of one carrying the other. And Mumbo would probably screw his eyes shut all the same, not bearing to see it. 

And when he tries to get his hand under Scar's robes, inching upward to fluster him, he'd probably laugh, but encourage it. Maybe his voice would shake, like Grian’s did- but the both of them would still keep a cool composure that’d make Mumbo a little too flustered. And when Scar's hand slips under his clothes, it wouldn’t be cold or sharp- it would be warm and soft, or maybe as calloused as his own from taking care of his garden- though he was always wearing those gloves, and they’d protect his skin there-

Right, he’d take off his gloves, wouldn’t he? And maybe it’d even be Mumbo that was taking off the gloves, slowly pulling them off and tracing his palm. Then there'd be a hand on his cheek- one of Scar's hands, brushing his cheekbones- and he’s slow with his movements, as if he’s giving Mumbo an opportunity to back out at any time. As if to test to see if he’s okay with this. And feeling- seeing, in Scar’s case- how close they’re getting is making him lightheaded and sick, but it’s not a feeling he wants to pull away from, just like this moment.

And though it feels weird with Grian, it’s weirder with Scar- being intimate with their target. But, with both of them, it’s an intimacy that he doesn’t mind. It’s… one he can lean into.

It’s one that he wants to lean into.

“Then…?” He asked timidly, in anticipation.

A pause.

“Then you kill him,” Grian said in his normal voice.

It was followed by the sharp pain of a talon pressed into his side. Not pressed hard enough to do any real damage- but pressed just hard enough to leave a sharp pain. The shock of the change was enough to make Mumbo finally open his eyes.

Grian was sitting there, and he was staring at him with a twisted expression on his face. Something pained, and confused. Suddenly, the palms of Mumbo’s hands were clammy again, and there was a tightening feeling in his stomach that wasn’t helping him in trying to calm down. He felt frozen in place.

Grian finally got off of him, and moved to sit at the end of the bed- moving so quickly that the sudden rejection almost shocked him. Mumbo looked up towards the ceiling, arms crossed over his stomach. 

“Then you kill him.” He repeated, with a note of finality. He watched Grian move in his peripheral vision, but it barely registered, “And we leave, and we’re rich, and you never have to think about him again.” In Mumbo’s silence, he hammered the scene in, “We get- a nice house on a mountaintop with a farm, and we get to live in peace for the rest of our lives.”

“...”

“Mumbo?” He can hear him perfectly well, and he knew that he was fully able to- but Mumbo didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Mumbo felt like he was 14 again. 

A tall, awkward 14-year-old boy that was stuck in a problem that he couldn’t see the end of. A teenager going through the monotony of his day-to-day life, and wishing that something could take him out of it.

There was something so difficult about wanting to kill someone- feeling like you needed to, in some stances, or feeling like you could- but always missing the opportunity to do so. Always looking back- always meticulously picking apart moments throughout his day, and realizing that a scene could’ve gone differently if he wasn’t such a coward, or if he took the chance he was constantly looking for. Or looking back at moments where he was so, so close- but he faltered at the last minute. That immediate frustration over failing something that was within reach. (Not knowing that the moment would come later, in the heat of the moment, and not knowing if he was ever going to get that chance again.)

But, even then, it didn’t explain what he was feeling now. What he felt for Scar wasn’t what he felt for Ariana. There was something underlying that- something that, in thinking about it, would usually always lead him to Grian- but trying to figure it all out at that moment was making his head spin. If they weren’t already in too deep, and if Grian wasn’t set on them becoming filthy rich, he likely would’ve considered dropping it by now.

No, not considered. He would’ve dropped it. Suddenly, the confession- saying he didn’t want to kill Scar- was taking on a different meaning. It wasn’t just not wanting to be the one to kill him, now- he didn’t want either of them to kill Scar. 

He didn’t want Scar to die.

“...no.” He relented quietly, after a pause that was just a few seconds too long. And though he was being honest, he didn’t know if he wanted to go into the grueling details- thinking about it, after all, made him frustrated. And by the way Grian didn’t press for him to keep talking, he guessed that he understood the feeling, even if he wasn’t feeling it himself. 

That, at least, gave Mumbo some comfort. At least it was Grian with him, and not somebody he hated, or would feel the need to impress. At least his partner in crime- though wanting to go through with it, and not being the type to back out- was at least somewhat patient with him, and willing to guide him through what should be an easy kill. And, as it all came to light, Mumbo realized that… maybe, it was never going to be an easy kill.

Maybe he should’ve killed Scar the night they first met him- shoving his dead body into the colorful swath of bushes surrounding his home, and running down the mountain with his hand enclosed around Grian’s- laughing the whole way down, despite the long trip and the period of secrecy, feeling more euphoric than he had in the years leading up to it. 

Maybe he should’ve let the job be easy, and he should’ve let them be happy.

-

Scar still slept in the same bed with them- but, on that night, he slept in between them.

Grian rattled off some excuse, saying that it'd be easier to keep an eye on him when they could both see him- but Mumbo knew that Grian was upset. 

Grian would know what he was feeling better than Mumbo ever could- and there were plenty of moments throughout their 14 years of friendship where he would break off, slightly, and Mumbo would be left trying to figure out what was wrong. Grian was scarily intelligent, in regards to knowing how he was feeling, and what was causing those feelings. That was the main difference between them. His only problem was communicating it- and, usually, Mumbo could trust that he would only have to wait before Grian came back to him with answers.

But this particular scenario was eating him up from the inside. That look he gave him- it felt like Grian was staring into his very soul, and judging him for thoughts he could never speak out loud, and feelings that he could never identify properly. And while Grian didn't usually leave him feeling so paranoid, Mumbo couldn't wait for when he'd eventually come to him and talk about it, if just to get a better understanding of what happened. Because, as far as Mumbo was concerned, everything had been fine. They were messing around, and Grian was trying to rile him up to get him to relax about everything- and it was working- and then everything just came to a stop.

(It happened because of Scar, Mumbo wasn't dumb- but was he upset because he was obviously reluctant about killing him when it could’ve been a good opportunity, or was he worried that Mumbo was falling behind on their last big hit?)

Days passed, with the two of them feeling slightly awkward around each other, and dancing around the topic entirely. 

The weather changed as well, going from unbearable heat to unbearable cold- but even as Mumbo shivered under the layers of blankets on him, and he knew that Grian felt the same, the two wouldn't get close to each other. (Those nights, Mumbo would even notice Scar moving- shifting uncomfortably, as if he was restless- but he didn't dare try starting a conversation with him.)

Then, one morning- when the first few inches of snow finally fell on the property- the two of them woke up to find Scar missing.

-

(Mumbo was on the floor, kneeling. His eyes were blurry with tears, and his hand pressed against a wound that wasn't his. 

It stopped bleeding a long time ago, seeping between Mumbo's fingers and underneath his nails- but for the longest time, that didn’t stop him from trying to keep her alive. He stained the red dress darker as he pressed the area near her collarbone- pressed against her as she slowly stopped breathing so harshly, and looking around the room for anything that could help stave off the blood flow and save her life.

But, at some point, he must’ve realized that it was pointless, and that there was nothing left for him to save. Because he slowly let up the pressure, and watched as she didn’t so much as twitch- until, without him realizing it, he wasn’t pressing it anymore. He wasn’t even touching it. He left bloody handprints on her wrist, as he instead searched for a pulse- 

But there was nothing. Nothing at all. 

He sobbed quietly, looking at the shocked, wide-open, but dead eyes of Ariana. Staring up at the ceiling and nothing in particular- but previously staring at Mumbo as he stabbed her, and as he then tried to save her life while she was going into shock. She didn't die right away, her life ending with her lung punctured, and with her trying to gasp for air- her mouth now coated in blood. Her hair was a mess behind her, ripped out of the perfect updo it was in. And the longer Mumbo looked at her and her appearance, the more sick he felt.

He killed the girl he was working for. He was her closest servant- the only one that lasted longer than a year, when the rest couldn’t even stick by her side for a couple of months at most- and it ended with him lashing out against her in a fit of rage that was previously unbeknownst and so foreign to him. 

Before working as her servant, he was so passive, and quiet, and wouldn’t even think about picking a fight with anyone, no matter how badly they treated him. He put up with his employers treating him horribly for his entire life, and could always manage to brush it off. But now, he felt like a completely different person. She changed him. It didn’t feel real, kneeling by her dead body. It didn’t feel like it was something that he did, even if he hated her. It’d be more believable if he instead found her like this, and if he tried to save her from a mysterious killer- or if it was some weird dream, warning him about what he was capable of, and how far he could go when someone like her pushed his buttons-

But it was real.

And the world didn't stop for them. Even as she lay there, the blood slowly pooling around her rapidly cooling body, stiff as a board and unable to move again- the music outside still blared loudly. The guests in attendance still cheered and laughed, even if the bride and groom weren't around them. Everything kept moving. Ariana was dead, and everything kept moving, and he didn't know what to do next. It felt like he was in a boat, going down a rapid stream, and heading straight for a waterfall- and he was stuck there, gripping onto the edges, and hoping it’d all slow down in time for him to be able to save himself.

Her father would likely find her after his wedding ended, and after the guests finally turned in for the night. Either finding Mumbo sitting next to her- unmoving, and still- or finding him in that same position the next morning, since Mumbo felt entirely frozen in place, and likely wouldn’t move again until he was forced to. And if the father didn't kill him right then and there to avenge his daughter, Mumbo would likely have to spend the rest of his life in a cell. One split-second decision later and, suddenly, his entire life had been ruined.

He felt like he was going to puke.

A knock on Ariana’s window ripped him out of it, and with a quiet scream, he cowered over the princess’ body, as if he could possibly hide anything he did from whoever was trying to get his attention. A silhouette appeared in the window- caused by the lights of the party outside- and for a moment, he was frozen, and utterly terrified at the thought of getting caught so soon. The waterfall steadily approached, and the boat tipped over just as he reached the end-

"Mumbo!" And at the voice, Mumbo felt instant relief shoot through him. "Let me in!"

Slowly- with a good amount of hesitation, and with his whole body trembling as he started moving again- he finally stood, and he sidestepped the body. It was Grian on the other side of the window, palms pressed against the glass, and staring at Mumbo with his wide eyes. At any other time, he would’ve seethed over seeing Grian putting handprints on a place that would be difficult to clean- or he would’ve panicked, upon seeing that Grian didn’t seem to care about being seen- but right then and there, Mumbo was shocked to find at how relieved he was to see a friendly and familiar face waiting for him.

Mumbo quickly opened the window and helped Grian step inside- bloody hands wrapped around the avian’s arm before he could stop himself- watching Grian as he looked around the room, as if he’d never been inside of it before.

His eyes were quick to land on the princess’ body, but he didn’t look surprised in the slightest- nor did he seem to be very upset by it. He took her in, eyes grazing over her body, and then he looked back to Mumbo, eyes wide and head tilted, just to ask-

“Did you reconsider, then?”

Mumbo couldn't help the bewildered look from crossing his face. And, for the first time in a while, his throat stopped feeling so closed up, and the tears stopped flowing- and he finally felt like he could speak again, even if it was just to comment on how… absurd everything felt.

"Grian, she's dead."

"Ah." He looked at her, lips pressed in a thin line. "That would explain all the…" He motioned towards his own neck, tapping against his collarbone. "Blood."

“I killed her!”

“It happens.” He said in that same flat, unbothered tone. Mumbo’s head was spinning- and he couldn’t tell if he was snapped out of his daze from how Grian was responding to something like this, or if he was pulled back into another one. It felt surreal. He felt like he was dreaming, and he’d give anything to wake up again.

“Not to me!” He said, much louder than Grian was expecting, judging by the way the feathers around his head pushed and pulled in a quick reaction, “Not if it's her!”

“She’s human, isn’t she? So are you.” Though he didn’t do anything to move Mumbo’s hands from his arm, Grian turned back towards the window, and gestured towards it with his head, “Are you gonna bounce? They’ll find you if you don’t leave soon.”

“I can’t just leave her like this! Even if I leave now- I will be hunted down. They will find me."

He scoffed, "They haven't found me. And you said that I was a thorn in their side.”

"I can't hide in the trees all day." Suddenly, the urgency and the stress pains in his stomach were turning into anger. Mumbo talked like his words were rushing towards the exit, twisted and tripping over themselves, and trying to get them out as quickly as possible, “This isn’t petty theft- I killed a princess! And-” His hands were moving around as he spoke, and he did nothing to stop them, now that Ariana couldn’t tell him off- and Mumbo could use any self-soothing techniques he could get. “I don’t know what to do.”  

Grian opened his mouth to say something. And something about the way he was going to do it so quickly suggested that he was just going to casually tell him what to do, as if it was so easy, and as if he hadn’t thought of it before. But then his mouth closed, and he seemed to really take in Mumbo’s appearance. The bloody hands. The nervous demeanor. “You’re actually upset about this.” He put, plain and simple, and Mumbo felt like his head was going to explode.

"Yes!"

Grian then looked a little lost. 

His eyes were back on Ariana, but instead of looking at her with the sort of urgency that Mumbo was looking for, and somewhat hoping for, Grian was staring at her like she was a stain that'd gone unnoticed, and he was wondering whether to panic and try to get it out, or if he could leave it without anyone else noticing. He remained calm throughout it. And Mumbo didn’t know if he should appreciate the fact that Grian was calm when he certainly wasn't, or if he wanted someone to be just as panicked about it as he was.

"Okay. What do you want to do about it?" Mumbo wanted to dig a hole, bury himself in it, and die peacefully. But he knew that such a thing wasn't possible, so he didn't voice it. Grian said, "Lock the door." 

Right. The door was still unlocked. Anybody could've walked in, and seen the two of them over the dead body of the princess, and they would've been dead right where they stood.

Quickly, Mumbo rushed to the other side of the room, and locked it, only slightly reeling back when her blood stained the handle. When he looked back, it was to Grian shuffling the curtains closed.

"You'll get in trouble because you killed her, right?" And, at Mumbo's nod, he said, "Then let's make her disappear.")

Chapter Text

Despite the sunny weather they had just days ago, it was snowing on Scar's property.

Heavily.

Mumbo stepped outside for just a second to assess how much it was snowing, and the minute he did so, he wished that he brought another coat to layer on top of the one he was already wearing. Or, at the very least, thicker shoes. It was cold, with powdery snow reaching up well past his ankles. 

Inside, at least, it was easy to stay warm. The walls were just thick enough to retain heat, and the two of them were advised to keep the windows shut until the stubborn weather passed.

Or until spring came again, and the snow would melt. But that won't happen for a while now.

For now, it was snowing, and Mumbo had to let Grian know that going outside in his sort of clothes was an easy way to get sick. (Sicker, he almost reminded himself grimly, seeing that it’s been a while since Grian got poisoned, but his voice still had a slight rasp to it. Just that morning, Grian sounded like he was trying to cough a lung out.

It must’ve been the poison weakening his unusually strong immune system- that was Grian’s leading theory. And though it was taking so long, it never got so bad that Mumbo considered seeing a doctor, and Grian assured him that it’d be okay, so Mumbo decided to just take his chances, and see where it’d lead. 

Just like he did the first time around.)

As soon as Mumbo walked near the door again, he put his hand on the doorknob, and immediately, there was a shock in his system.

It started from his head and ran down his back so quickly that it almost completely froze him in place. His chest seized for a second.

He stayed still just long enough to be almost completely doused in water. A long, unnatural stream that’d come from nowhere. His hair was slowly dripping, water falling and dropping onto the ground below. and as he stood there, it took him a minute before he realized what had happened to him. 

The cold that he was trying to keep out with his coat was now slowly seeping in through his clothes, and a slow trail of water was still making its way down Mumbo's back. When he looked up to see where it came from, a distinct giggle rang out, and Mumbo just caught the sight of someone pulling a bucket through a window before the window itself was slammed shut.

-

“It’s cold.” He dutifully reported.

"You said you were just stepping outside."

"I did."

From where he was sitting on their bed, Grian took him in critically. His head tilted, and he looked back down to Mumbo's shoes, which were still tracking small drops of water on the floor, and then back up to Mumbo’s head- which was covered by a towel he wore in an attempt to quickly dry himself off, "Why are you..?"

"It was the servants' kids, I think." Mumbo sighed. "They were just playing a prank."

There was a small, almost completely unnoticeable shudder to his voice that made Grian frown.

"You could get sick from that." 

"I'll just stick by the fire. I'll be fine."

"Okay."

Mumbo finally brought the towel away from his face and draped it across his shoulders just to look over at him. His face was blank for once. Grian stared back, face just as neutral, and they both stood at an awkward little standstill until Mumbo broke the eye contact, and looked away.

“Alright.” He mumbled before he crossed the room, and busied himself with their fireplace- crouching down in front of it, and poking at it. Grian watched him work with no intention of following him. Not even as the fire started, and not even as Mumbo sat beside the fire with a pleasant and relieved sigh.

For the past few days, their conversations wouldn't get much deeper than that.

And while that sort of casual talk was usually fine, and even expected between the two of them- there was something different to it, now. An underlying current of tension that felt close to snapping- as if the two of them were standing still, and constantly waiting for something big to happen.

So, continuing their little song and dance that they’ve placed themselves in, Grian kept quiet and watched him from across the room, and Mumbo made no attempt to start another conversation. He stretched, draped himself across the couch, and seemingly relaxed into it.

Scar went missing just a few days ago. 

It was a stark contrast from the constant company that he’d been keeping with them. And, even though something like this should’ve been incredibly nerve-wracking (and it would’ve, for other reasons, if they were anyone else), the servants they all talked to just assured them that everything was fine. Scar commonly disappeared, in their words- whether it was him being outside and caring for his garden, or if it was just him holing up in his room, and wanting some privacy. It wasn’t uncommon, or something to worry about- even if days passed, and there was no sign of him.

He’d show up again eventually. They’d just have to be patient and trust that the servants knew what they were talking about.

Maybe the whole thing should’ve been just like how it was when they first arrived. Maybe they were meant to be alone, but content in each other’s company, and not all that worried about where Scar was. Laid back, and trusting that his “common disappearances” weren’t absolutely pertinent to their mission. But now, for some odd reason, the whole situation didn’t rub him the right way. (If they were anyone else- if Scar were anyone else- Grian could even say that he was… worried about him, and where he’d gone.)

Scar was gone, for now, and despite their initial worry when the elf didn’t show up for a full day, neither of them talked about it any further than a simple acknowledgment. No talk about plans, or what to do after Scar was found. 

After that little incident, bringing the mission up almost felt… inappropriate.

Grian hated it.

It was a weird sort of situation that they’d thrown themselves into. And even though he knew that he was prolonging the tension because of how prickly he was being, he also knew that it wasn’t something he could drop so easily. And, at the same time, Mumbo was there to match his energy.

So for the longest time, they stayed in that uncomfortable limbo. They stayed inside, where it was warm, and they mostly stayed in their rooms. When Scar came back, Grian commonly told himself, everything could resume to how it was. When the stupid weather let up, and it wasn’t snowing as heavily, they could figure something out. Something.

But for now, they just waited.

-

They were eating a late lunch together when the idea came to mind. 

Mumbo was actually eating while Grian was just picking at his food- his appetite was long gone, for some odd reason- and while they were mostly content with silence, Grian’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a fork dropping against a plate, followed by a deep sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Mumbo asked.

“What?” He shot back defensively- momentarily raising his head from where he’d been resting it on the palm of his hand, his mind immediately jumping to the worst- but Mumbo just gestured towards his plate.

“You look frustrated.” Then, his sights were back on his food. Grian pressed his fork against the egg on his plate, and it didn’t take much pressure for the yolk to break, and start spilling everywhere. He watched it bleed. At this point, it would be significantly colder, along with everything else on his plate.

“I’m thinking.” He said into his hand.

“Yeah?” 

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Mumbo sat up a little straighter, but he remained silent, and the small gesture was clear. If he wanted to, Grian should talk about it. 

So he did. “I think we should find Scar.”

And, clearly, it wasn’t what Mumbo was expecting him to say. Grian looked up just in time to see his eyebrows shooting up. “What?”

And, suddenly, Grian felt slightly less lethargic- energy coming back to him just as an idea was starting to solidify in his mind. "Well, we can't just have him disappearing on us now, can we? Not if we want to go through with this.” He abandoned his plate and moved around the bed. He opened up the wardrobe in the corner of the room and started to frantically search through it. “The servants won’t tell us where he is. If we want to figure this out, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.”

“...”

“Won’t we?” He pressed, but his tone had lilted upon seeing what he’d been looking for.

“How did you want to do that?”

Grian didn’t have to look over to know that Mumbo was looking at him weirdly. So, instead of immediately matching his gaze with a little grin, he let him have a glance at the plan he was working out in his head. 

After finding it stuffed into his wardrobe, Grian held up the outfit they’d gotten ages ago, now- the one that he was supposed to leave in, once they found a way to do so- but all it was doing at the moment was collecting dust in whatever suitcase or closet they’ll shove it into.

“Doesn’t this look familiar?” He prompted, shaking out the pant legs. “It reminds me of something.”

They had, unintentionally, bought an outfit that looked very similar to the outfits that the male servants wore. With the outfit, the sudden declaration of wanting to find Scar, and how Grian usually approached his problems, it was pretty easy to put together that he wanted to dress as a servant.

It only took seconds for Mumbo to realize what he was putting down. When he did, his eyebrows furrowed, and he immediately said, “No.”

“I just want to look for Scar!” He started to change despite Mumbo’s complaints, throwing his loose nightgown up and over his shoulders as he mindlessly ranted. “It’s endearing, at worst- a wife being worried about her husband. Even if I get caught, won’t they all just be flattered that I seem so determined to find him?”

But Mumbo didn’t seem to be convinced in the slightest.

“You’ve never worked as a servant a day in your life.”

“I am good at faking it, though.” It fit him almost perfectly. All he had to do was button the sleeves and roll up the ends of his pants to fold around his ankles.

“Until they don’t recognize you,” Mumbo said with a dull tone, almost sarcastic tone. And if Grian could ignore the slight tension, he could pretend like everything was normal. It was just another mission, and they were just… messing around. Mumbo was nervous, and Grian was showing off the amount of undeserved confidence he had for his little plans. “And then you get thrown out, or caught, and everything goes down the drain-”

With a playful spin, Grian showed off the outfit- even though it was more than clear that Mumbo had watched him change. Mumbo’s eyes drifted up to meet his, and a complicated look replaced his expression.

“All I need to do is look like a servant from a distance." Grian’s tone was much quieter as he spoke. "I just want to see if he's around. I don't like him having the home advantage, and I don’t like that he can just…" Disappear without a trace. "Hide. From us."

"For all we know, he could be on a trip. And nowhere near this property."

It wasn't likely. Scar would’ve said something if that was the case, surely, and Grian was willing to base the new mission on just one assumption.

So, with a steely gaze, he headed towards the door. "I'll be off."

"Are you even listening to me?" Mumbo sighed. “Do you even have a contingency plan? I don't know if we can excuse this."

"I have plenty of excuses! I just need to watch what I say.” Mumbo clearly took an issue with it- but knowing him, and knowing what he was like, he didn’t interject any further. "I'll be right back, Mumbo. I just want to take a quick look around."

They parted ways- with Mumbo quietly wishing him well, and Grian assuring him that he was going to be back soon.

As soon as he was outside the door, Grian smoothed out the front of his shirt, expression dropping, and he sighed.

Right- he was pretending to be a servant, now. And though the plan was shaky at best, and wasn’t as thought-out as his Ariana disguise was, Grian was always quick on his feet, and at least somewhat competent. If he got caught, he knew that it wasn’t going to be as serious as Mumbo was trying to make it out to be.

The situation gave him a lot of confidence- even if it was mostly unwarranted. Grian strolled down those halls like he was a man on a mission, confident that he’d pass by any servant without them looking twice at him. And even though the manor was built weirdly, and clearly disorienting, he knew how to get to Scar’s room easily, and he made his way over as quickly as possible. 

It was just to get every possibility out of the way before he’d go too far. He held his breath as he crossed a corner- ready to bump into a servant, and talk with them, even if to just get a general sense of whatever was going on-

But surprisingly, as he did so, he saw that nobody was near Scar’s room. 

No servants, and no signs of his guard. It was still, and empty- and Grian hesitated as he approached the door. He wondered if it was his room, for a second, seeing that the door to his room was just as plain as some of the surrounding rooms, and knowing how easy it was to get lost in the manor. Then, regaining some of his confidence again, Grian pressed his ear against the door and slowly knocked on it. He stared down the hall as he listened for any sort of struggle, or the sounds of someone on the other end- but it was completely and utterly quiet.

Either there was someone on the other end that didn’t hear him, or there was nobody on the other side at all.

Knowing that it was likely the latter, Grian’s hand fell to the doorknob, and he was almost surprised to see how easy it turned. Unlocked. Empty of any people.

He was just more surprised to find that it actually was Scar’s room. The same room he slept and ate in just a few days ago was now dark, and empty. It was almost suspiciously clean- and even though there were just people in there, surely, Grian almost felt like he was walking into a guest bedroom of some kind, instead of Scar’s room. (He could’ve sworn that it felt warm, the last time he was in there- but maybe that was just the lighting.)

Grian walked inside, slowly closed the door behind him, and immediately went into detective mode. He almost felt like the protagonist in one of those old stories that he used to read with Mumbo- carefully combing the room with whatever minimal light that was peaking through Scar’s window to figure something out- as if the answer would just be so easily or conveniently found.

Grian, unsurprisingly, found nothing. The bed was well-made, everything was pristine, and it was fairly easy for Grian to get distracted while he was in there. At some point, instead of looking for clues, he instead found himself looking through Scar’s things. Though the jewelry was tempting- and Grian couldn’t resist picking through it, and looking at all the different sorts of things he kept in that jewelry box- he knew that he couldn’t take it all with him. Despite wanting to, he knew that something as major as that wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. (But if a few rings and a bracelet caught on his fingers, and just so happened to slip into his pocket as he was putting his hand away- that was something he could easily keep to himself.)

Knowing that he’d have to leave and continue his investigation, Grian also stole a flat, gray hat from Scar. It was the same one that they saw him wearing when they first met, sitting on top of a dresser, and Grian immediately knew that it’d come in handy. Long hair was fun, for a while- but once everything was said and done, he knew that he was going to be happy to have it short again. 

The hat fit over his head and easily covered up his long hair. He was sure that he wasn't going to be the only one wearing a hat, surely, but the thought of standing out so much did make him feel slightly nervous.

The rest of his uniform was barely acceptable. With what he and Mumbo got at the shop in town, it was good enough to pass as him looking like one of the other servants- a white collared top, and a dark pair of pants- but he also knew that the shade was just a few hints darker than it was supposed to be, and he knew that a trained eye that was already suspicious of him could probably spot it. 

Another problem was that he didn't have a proper pair of shoes, just the flats that were constantly hidden under his dresses. Something he could run in if he needed to, but nothing that could stave off the cold from the snow outside, and definitely not the sort of shoes that any of the other servants would have. He'd have to change that if he got the chance to. 

Other than that, he looked just fine. He could easily blend into the background, with that sort of outfit on- and even if he wouldn’t be completely covered, it would buy him some time, at the very least. 

And that was all he needed.

-

As soon as Grian left Scar’s room- shutting the door behind him, and going back to walking down the halls- he almost immediately bumped into another servant. 

His reflexes were quick, and he just managed to steady her before she dropped the freshly folded towels that she was holding in her arms. But before he could even get an apology out, he saw that she was looking at him curiously.

“I don’t recognize you.” She said bluntly, but not unkindly, and Grian was just surprised that he got spotted so quickly.

“I’m… new here.” He tried. 

Thankfully, her eyes went wide, and she immediately seemed to jump onto it. 

“You’re not supposed to be here!” But instead of looking shocked, and before any sort of panic could settle in him, she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “Here-” She pressed the towels into his hands, and Grian took it without any sort of complaints, “Follow me, I’ll lead you back.”

“Thank you!” He tried to sound exasperated.

“Of course.”

“I was… looking for a bathroom, and I got lost-”

She was waving her hands around as she spoke, her demeanor nonchalant, and the whole interaction made Grian feel a lot more secure in his disguise. “Oh- they haven’t started yet, don’t worry. Don’t worry.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, Grian was led to the front of the manor. 

The area near the door was almost completely crowded with people. Everyone was dressed in a servant's garb, and talking amongst themselves. Nobody looked at him when he quietly entered the room, or when the servant kindly explained that he'll memorize the floorplans for the house eventually, and that getting lost wasn't something to be embarrassed about. 

Grian gingerly handed her the towels back, thanked her, and he joined the rest of the group. Nobody cared for his appearance, or looked twice as he slipped in.

It was perfect.

Grian immediately knew that these servants must've been new- or, at the very least, newer. Because while the house was a maze, he knew that he likely wouldn't have been treated so kindly if he was expected to know where everything was in the house. It'd help with his plan.

Grian shifted the weight on his feet and looked out over the crowd.

The first thing he noticed was that there weren't that many people in there to begin with. Nine, maybe less- and though he'd usually do a full, detailed sweep of the room he was in, just to get a sense for everything, and find a way to blend in… Grian was immediately distracted.

There was another avian in the crowd of servants.

The minute he spotted him, Grian felt the feathers around his head- pinned with clips, and hiding the hat- ruffle a little. He was tall, blond, with golden feathers around his head that blended in with the color of his hair perfectly. When his hand moved as he spoke, Grian caught the sight of longer nails- but the main thing that Grian noticed (and, soon, the thing that he could not keep his eyes off of), was the sight of small golden wings on his back.

Avians came in all sorts of shapes and sizes- from what Grain's heard, anyway, since seeing them in person was something rare. Some were more bird-like, with wings, and covered in so many feathers that their faces were unable to be seen. Some had the head of a person but the body of a bird, and some vice versa. Some looked so human that it was impossible to tell either way. Some, like Grian, were just better at hiding it.

Almost all of them had wings.

Grian was one of the few that did not. And honestly, even though this avian did have wings, Grian didn't envy him too much. They were too small to fly with no matter how light he was- mostly thanks to his height- and from what Grian could see, they were likely hard to take care of, seeing that some of the feathers were just slightly out of place, unnoticeable to anyone that didn't have wings themselves.

Though… Grian supposed that he shouldn't be judging too harshly. He liked to keep his feathers pristine and neat when anyone would see them, but for now, they were just haphazardly stuck under the hat. (And even though it would've been a much easier disguise to have if he did show off his avian traits, he was also careful and wary of getting caught. If he did have to say that he was Ariana, he could excuse his voice from the cold. He could not excuse the feathers away.)

He meant to continue looking around, but as soon as his eyes caught on the golden feathers, it was hard to look away-

But he did.

And it was only because of a tap on his shoulder.

"I don't recognize you." A new voice said, "Were you coming up here with us?"

She spoke as if she had a smile on her face, but it wasn't until Grian looked at her that she did. The stranger trying to get his attention was an elf. Her face and complexion were almost unnerving as it was perfect- but the whole look was offset by her choppy, brown hair, a faint splatter of freckles, and a pair of gray eyes that had normal pupils. A half-elf, then, if Grian had to guess.

She was also tall. She and that avian guy were the tallest among all of the other servants, and Grian had to crane his neck to look at her.