The Midsummer festival was always an enchanting affair. All twinkling candles, twirling silk and love-struck sighs. The palace went all out for the evening and even the most jaded at court could find themselves swept up in the romance of it. The rider's however, knew how to make it a party.

The entire week leading up to the day was a series of events with plenty of dancing, bawdy song, and drinking. Recruits, not yet adjusted the rider's demanding schedule, usually attended for the first night or two before they began skipping the merriment altogether—turning in early and grumbling about the noise from the mess hall below.

Companies that were in the capital, however, looked forward to this week all year as a rare time to let loose. Even the commander's would partake, often looking the worse for wear by the end of the week, as well as friends of the Rider's and denizens of the palace who preferred this brand of celebration to the courtly affair that would later mark the holiday.

"Drink up!" Sarge grinned and set two large mugs of ale in front of Onua and Daine. Onua and Sarge took turns at the parties—always ensuring that one of them kept their wits about them. Onua had also confided in Daine that if she partook every night they'd be digging a ditch for her by the end of the week. While Daine was feeling the effects more than her friend she was not nearly as far gone as others—she laughed as she saw Evin lose to Miri in an arm wrestle and nearly tip over the table.

"Think Thayet will make it down?" Daine asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"I saw her around here somewhere," Sarge lifted a long leg over the bench and sat behind Daine.

"His Majesty prefers that his Queen leave before anything scandalous happens," Onua smirked. Thayet strode a careful line between her commitments. "Some of our other friends may take care to follow her lesson in restraint." She said dryly and Daine followed her gaze. An unsteady Numair was trying to get Buri to dance with him. The K'miri looked as though she wanted to sink into the ground—Buri hated social affairs as it was, and preferred to blend into the walls as much as possible.

"Poor Buri. I don't think his charms are working on her." Daine felt bad for her clearly embarrassed friend, but the pleasant buzz of alcohol in her system helped her see the humor in the situation. She giggled. "What did he get in to? He's not usually one for drink." Daine mused and Sarge snorted.

"Ah, we may have had a drink earlier. He may have had a couple, plus a few more. I'm afraid I was a bad influence." He was chuckling, "I thought someone of his height could handle it better."

"Daine, go put Buri out of her misery." Onua urged her on but Daine shook her head.

"I'm not getting pulled into that." She took another sip and heard the K'miri sigh as she got up.

"I suppose it's up to me, then." Daine and Sarge watched as Onua threaded her way through the crown. Daine had seen less relief on Buri's face when she was being saved from a stormwing than when Onua stepped between her friend and the mage.

Daine and Sarge howled with laughter when Numair swept Onua into his arms and twirled her around, ending in a dramatic dip where he almost whacked her head into a table. Onua struggled to get free and was finally successful when Evin tottered over and tried to teach Numair some sort of jig which could only end in disaster. Onua rolled her eyes and tugged at Numair's tunic, pointing back to their table. Numair spotted Daine with unfocused eyes and smiled, teetering his way towards her.

"Daine," he smiled and sat down hard on the edge of the bench. She jumped at the impact, sure that if Sarge had not been on her other side they would have tipped over. Onua had reclaimed her seat and was watching the mage with raised eyebrows. Daine could hear Sarge snickering behind her.

"This is your fault," she hissed, behind her.

"Don't you look pr—" he stumbled over his words, focusing hard. "Pre—, B—" he sighed and waved his hand in the air, finally snapping his fingers in the air with a look of triumph, "midwintery!" He looked pleased with himself and Onua snorted. Daine looked down at her cotton tunic and breeches, noticing a patch of hay sticking out from under her boot—probably secured there with horse dung. She hadn't even tried to change for the party.

"Thank you?" She looked at Onua who shrugged.

"What about me?" Onua was grinning. "Why don't I get compliments?"

"You," Numair turned to his friend, looking at her very seriously. "You look like a, a—" He smiled, pleased with himself once more. "You look just like an Onua." Sarge barked with laughter and Daine and Onua shrugged at each other.

"Nothing like getting charmed at Midsummer is there?" The K'miri muttered, lifting her mug to her lips. Sarge reached over and took Onua's free hand.

"Oh, fair lady," he mimicked the overly airy cadence of a court bard, "your skin is like the desert in the sun, your voice like the whisper of a meadow, your eyes like—"

"Oh, shut up," Onua yanked her hand back with a sour look. Daine went to take another drink and found that Numair had beat her to it and was guarding her mug carefully. He was going to have a fair headache in the morning at this rate.

"I'm offended, I worked very hard on that." Sarge pouted. Onua rolled her eyes.

"Very well then, what do my eyes remind you of?"

"Well, now that you were so rude I'd have to say horse dung." He couldn't help but laughing as he said it and Onua swatted at him. Daine snorted, raising her hands in defense at Onua's glare.

"I can't believe you said that—you great, useless lump."

"Next time be nicer to me and I will say nicer things." Sarge grinned widely as the two of them settled into a familiar banter. Daine turned her attention back to Numair, who was studying the now empty mug.

"I think you finished it," Daine giggled, taking it from his unsteady hands. She blushed when he grasped one of her hands, and held it in his own on the table. He leaned his head on his other hand and sighed. Daine glanced around to see if anyone was watching them, but everyone seemed too caught up in their own activities. She turned back and noticed that at some point Numair had closed the distance between them.

"Do you have more ale? You ran out." He murmured, eyeing Onua's mug.

"Maybe later," she appraised him, noticing the glassy look in his eyes. "Are you having a good time?" She felt as though she were talking to a child.

"It's okay," he sighed, dramatically, and looked at her—his gaze surprisingly focused. "Where have you been? I wanted to dance with you and I couldn't find you anywhere." You would think that they were discussing something very serious based on his tone.

"I think you were trying to dance with Buri, Numair. And then Onua, kind of." She snuck a smile to Onua who had turned to them when she heard her name. Numair snorted.

"No, no, no," he waved his hand, shaking his head. "Not like that . Buri's and Onua's are nice, I suppose. But they're friends, not Daine's." He nodded to himself, as if delivering some great tidbit of wisdom.

"Numair," Onua's voice was quiet, and sounded like a warning. Daine looked at her friend, bemused, and was surprised to see that Onua's face was deadly serious. Ignoring her, Daine turned back to Numair.

"Aren't I a friend?" She laughed and Numair squeezed her hand.

"No. I mean, yes," He looked confused now. Onua had slid down on her side of the table to be opposite of him, and if Daine wasn't mistaken she was kicking the mage under the table and none too gently. "I mean—yes?" He seemed impervious to Onua's attempts to garner his attention. "But you shouldn't be," he tweaked her nose.

"And what should I be?"

"I can't watch this," Sarge muttered and she felt him get up from the table. Onua sighed heavily.

"Numair, can I speak to you?" Onua leaned across the table to place a hand on Numair's shoulder. Without missing a beat Numair placed the hand not gripping Daines squarely over Onua's face and used his long arm to sit her back down. Shocked, Onua stayed in her seat.

"We should be better friends," he supplied, finally, looking at Daine meaningfully. Daine glanced at Onua, who was watching the two of them like a wild animal she hadn't yet gotten a read on, and then back to Numair.

"Well, I think that would be fine with me." She said slowly.

"Excellent," he cried—at least that's what she thought he said. He hugged her tightly, head falling on her shoulder, and she patted his back. She looked to Onua who looked relieved but just shook her head in response to Daine's questioning look.

"Numair," Daine laughed and tried to push his slumped form off of her. She never realized how heavy he was. He mumbled, and nuzzled his nose against her neck. Daine felt a hot blush spread over her face and chest. Onua clicked her tongue and got up, coming up behind the mage and pulling him upright by the arms. Daine helped steady him and he leaned on his hand again, staring at Daine and smiling.

"That's quite enough from you, Master Mage."

"I think he may be about done," Daine eyes him warily. "Will you help me get him to my room?" Onua raised an eyebrow at her young friend.

"I'm not sure how appropriate your room is. How about Cloud's stall? She'll make sure he's nice and comfy." Onua smirked.

"I can hear you talking about me." Numair mumbled, pouting.

"He'll hurt enough in the morning without being Cloud's chew toy." Daine rolled her eyes, "and I will be up for a while yet. He can sleep it off in my room and then I can shoo him back to his own. Unless you want to help me get him back to the palace now?"

Onua looks at the pile of long, drunken limbs that currently made up most of their friend and grimaced.

"Your room it is. At least we can avoid the stairs," she grumbled as each woman threw an arm over their shoulder and lifted on the count of three. It took them the better part of ten minutes to get the unstable man to the hallway, setting him down on the ground to catch their breath. Numair leaned back against the wall, sighing deeply.

"Where's kit?" He asked, reaching around him.

"She's trailing Jon for the week—she's enamored with the festival preparations." She shrugged. "I think it's all the ribbons they let her play with." She added on for Onua's benefit.

Trying to get Numair up off of the floor quickly proved to be more challenging than they anticipated and Onua jogged off to get Sarge. Numair smiled and mumbled something that sounded like 'alone at last', but Daine couldn't be sure.

Sarge came to the rescue, laughing loudly when he saw the other man.

"I can't wait until he's sober enough to be teased," he grinned wickedly and hefted Numair's limp form off of the floor, throwing him over his shoulder like a rag doll. Daine was amused to see that even with Sarge's great height Numair's hands were not far from being able to reach the floor.

They finally settled Numair in Daine's rooms, nestled on top of the covers with his boots off and a bucket at the bedside—just in case. Daine cringed, hoping they had caught him before he would become ill.

Daine was the last to slip out of her rooms. She found that Sarge had already left to keep an eye on the ruckus but that Onua had hung back for her. She looped her arm through Daine's elbow as they walked back.

"Did he say anything while I was getting Sarge?" She asked. She sounded hesitant.

"Drunken foolery." Daine rolled her eyes. "Why?"

"He just seemed very—" she drew a deep breath, "affectionate with you in the hall." Onua cast her a sidelong glance.

"I suppose." It was Daine's turn to choose her words carefully. "That's not such an odd thing for someone who's indulged too much though."

"No, but he was very focused on you."

"Onua, do you have a point?" Daine asked frankly and Onua sighed and came to a halt. She turned Daine towards her, placing her hands on either side of Daine's arms.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to—I know it's none of my business and I've been waiting this long to see if you'd talk to me." She inhaled deeply and Daine narrowed her eyes, waiting for the K'miri to elaborate. Onua exhaled, "Have you and Numair talked about your relationship?" Daine's brows knitted in confusion.

"I mean, we're friends. I don't suppose there's much to talk about, is there?" She shook her head, feeling uncomfortable.

"Have you talked about the fact that you maybe, well, shouldn't be friends?" Onua was still trying to filter her words and it was becoming fair irksome. Her directness was normally one of her best qualities, in Daine's opinion.

"Why would we not be friends anymore? Just because he's no longer my teacher we shouldn't see each other anymore?" Defensiveness came easy to her. It had been suggested before that Numair would tire of her now that their academic relationship was no longer formal. Onua shook her head, cutting the girl off.

"No, youngin', that's not what I meant. I suppose I should be frank." Onua pinched the bridge of her nose. "Have you and Numair ever talked about if you are interested in being lovers?" Onua shrugged, she looked embarrassed but also relieved to have it out there. Daine felt herself turning beet red, and stammered.

"No," she shook her head, "I mean—you've seen the women he prefers. They're about as far from me as you can get." She tried to laugh but it came out strangled. She knew she sounded jealous and was mortified. Onua studied her with something that looked like sympathy in her dark eyes. Daine hated that look.

"Have you thought about it? If that's something you would like?" Onua sighed when Daine shook her head but appeared unable to form a response. She guided them to a bench, sitting them both down. "I'm not trying to embarrass you—but when I asked if you talked about it you implied that he would not be interested, not that you aren't." Daine leaned forward and buried her face in her hand, letting out a frustrated sound that was muffled.

"I don't know," she sat up, exasperated. "I can't believe I'm saying this out loud. You're going to think that I'm the silliest girl this side of the Drell River."

"Why?" Onua was bemused and Daine groaned.

"Entertaining the idea of me with," she waved her hand in the general direction of her room, "him. What chance would I ever have?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Onua laughed at this but stopped quickly at Daine's expression.

"You were the one who told me first—remember? He likes 'shapely blondes'." She muttered bitterly, looking down and pulling at the tunic resting over her own modest bust. "The kind who look gorgeous rolling out of bed in the morning, and probably look even better falling back into one." Her cheeks burned.

"I'm not so sure you're giving him, or yourself for that matter, quite enough credit." Onua chided gently. She patted Daine's back. "I take it you have thought about it then?" Daine leaned on her knee, propping up her chin with her hand, and sighed.

"There have been times where it seems like—" she shook her head. "I don't know how to explain it but over the last few years there are these moments. It happened a lot those few months after the Immortal's war. Since then too, last Fall we had this—" She bit her lip, not quite sure what she was saying. "You know that moment where you're sure you're about to be kissed?" Daine looked at her friend who laughed and nodded.

"Yes, I vaguely remember what that's like." Onua said dramatically, evoking a laugh from her troubled friend.

"It's like that and then he carries on like nothing happened, and sometimes it's months with nothing. Eventually I just had to assume I was imagining things." She sat up straight, letting out a long, frustrated breath. "You can't tell him. I can't even believe I'm telling you."

"Would it be such a bad thing if he knew?"

Daine shook her head, "I know where we stand. I don't want to make things uncomfortable. It's a miracle he hasn't caught on already—and if he has, well, he's been fair polite about it. No need to force a conversation on something already settled."

Onua leaned back, tapping her finger on her knee. After a long moment she sighed as if making a decision. "I assure you, he doesn't know."

"Did he say something to you," she sat up straight, looking stricken.

"No, no," Onua placed a hand on her friends knee. "Look, it's not my place to give away too much, but it seems like the two of you are the only people working without all the information. What I will say, is that if he were to know I think you'd be surprised. And Horse Lord's know he's not the daring of the two of you, so perhaps you should think about letting on a little."

Daine regarded her friend, turning the implication over in her mind.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" The older woman asked when Daine didn't speak.

She nodded, slowly, "Yes." Her hands were shaking despite being braced against her knees.

"Then I will say no more until you ask it of me." Onua stood, motioning for her to follow. "In any event, he's dead to the world for the time being so come back to the party with me and leave your fretting for when you can do something about it."

A small boon of pushing away such thoughts for so many years was that it was easy enough to do for a few more hours. Sure, she turned whenever someone slightly taller than average crossed her peripheral vision and began the walk back to her room no less than three times before turning around, but good friends, a moderate amount of imbibing, and even a handful of dances helped to pass the hours until the hour grew late enough that even the rowdiest attendees began to fade.

She smiled to see Evin goading a group of riders' to clean the mess left behind—a task traditionally allocated to those who caused the most trouble and one he had performed many a year. Her stomach flipped as she approached her door, candlelight still spilling from the threshold, and regretted not accepting that last offer of a drink from Sarge.

She opened the door, quietly, but found the occupant already awake. He sat on the edge of her bed, doubled over with his elbows on his knees, looking worse for the wear. He looked up when she closed the door behind her.

"Daine?"