“Take it you’ll be leavin’ soon, then?”

Milve looked up, watching as Owren approached. He’d come to the Bewitching Gardens to think, sat on one of the benches before the… shrine. He was honestly surprised to see so many offerings during a time of peace - most people only seemed to remember Iescula when they were actually under siege.

“Not exactly,” he sighed.

“Really?” the human asked skeptically, taking a seat next to him, “Don’ see what’s going to keep the big important High Priest here much longer.”

“I haven’t actually learned much from your nephew, which was my Lady’s decree,” Milve sighed again, “And besides - I am no longer a High Priest.”

“Huh?” Owren asked.

“The order did not agree with my decision to make a human one of our number,” the former high priest replied, “I was high priest of my temple, but mine is not the only one. I agreed to abdicate my position if they would accept Braelin’s membership - they were not fond of me anyway. A human faithful seemed a small price to pay to dispense of me.”

“Why didn’t you go to your goddess?” Owren scoffed, “Her given’ the boy her favor was the only reason you did it.”

“Tell ‘mommy’ the other children were bullying me?” Milve mused.

“Don’ go stealin’ my words just to suit yourself!” the human pointed up at him with his cane, “Bein’ kicked out for honorin’ your goddess’s will is hardly the same as bein’ an ass because you don’ like her will!”

Milve chuckled, pushing the cane away gently, “No, but… I brought it upon myself, really.”

Owren rolled his eyes, “How so?”

“Clinging to traditions,” the priest replied, “Even my order thought I took things too far at times - that my temple had the fewest members because I was too strict about entry requirements, that we had the least funds because I made the path for supplicants too difficult… I always argued that I was simply following the old ways, which I was. If I had not been so… forceful in telling my peers how lax I thought they were, they would likely have accepted my proposal without demanding something in return.”

“So you shat the bed and now you're lying in it,” the human snorted, “Whelp, that’s what happens.”

Milve snorted, “Crude, but accurate as usual. Still, I’m… considering this an opportunity, rather than a punishment.”

“Oh?” Owren asked.

“I’m still a priest, just one without rank and authority,” Milve said, “I asked the Grand Priest of my order for leave to tend this shrine - she agreed. Said it was good I was taking responsibility for allowing such blasphemy to continue,” he rolled his eyes, “But. Here is the first time I ever spoke with my Lady directly. It seems like the best place to… start over.”

The human sighed, looking at the boughs above them, “Startin’ over is hard at our age.”

“It certainly is,” Milve agreed.

Until Braelin’s collapse and hearing about the way the humans had come to be in the Demon Realm, he hadn’t considered how difficult the journey had been. He had assumed because they were humans - especially living within the walls of the castle - that they couldn't have possibly known the kinds of hardships he had.

He’d decided to join the order of Iescula after being saved by plants - as a child, he’d run to escape an abusive parent. For whatever reason, the plants spared him and killed his father coming after him - he had thought it was a blessing from the Goddess and devoted his life to Her in return. Reaching the nearest temple still nearly killed him, and the priesthood training was harsh - but Iescula valued independence, so he’d taken pride in his ability to survive above all else.

It was why he refused to slacken his own standards even an inch when he became High Priest - doing so felt like insulting the Goddess he loved… or perhaps, it just made him feel as though his own efforts had been wasted.

Being chastised by Iescula had hurt his pride. But seeing the way the humans were with the plants - reading the way Braelin wrote about them with so much warmth - had broken some fundamental part of him. Because for all his devotion to his Goddess, he had only ever treated her beloved plants with scorn - as tools to be used, creatures to be conquered, and worthy adversaries to prove his faith against.

Milve built his life around being Iescula’s most devoted follower - and yet the plants that had saved him as a boy, that his Lady loved as her children, he had trampled underhoof without care.

And if he were not Iescula’s most faithful priest, then… who was he?

“Well, wasn’ going to bring it up ‘fore since you were leavin’, but,” Owren sighed, “Heard a rumor you liked me. Romantically.”

Milve sputtered in surprise, feeling his face warm as blood rushed to it - he’d thought he’d kept that hidden well enough, but apparently not.

The human snorted, “Answer enough.”

“I am aware that humans mainly take one partner at a time,” the priest sighed, “And that you are previously engaged.”

Owren snorted again, “Yeah, an’ my previous engagement has spent the past fifteen years with a bunch a free lovin’ pirates and thought it might be worth a shot.”

Milve’s tail swished as he said, “Pardon?”

“I’m sayin’ I talked it over with my partner an’ we - together, mind, since he’s educated me that’s not always how it’s done - are willin’ to give you a chance,” Owren said, his own face red as he looked askance, “Providin’ you want it.”

“Yes,” the priest said, embarrassed by his own quick reply. He cleared his throat, “I mean… ah.”

Owren snorted, then laughed, “Well, still don’ really see what the appeal is, but that was sure honest!”

Milve hesitated, then said, “You’re honest. A bit brutally, but… I always knew others didn’t like me, and were being polite because of my station. It’s… refreshing to be called out, I suppose.”

“Well, everyone needs a kick in the pants now and again,” the human cleared his throat, then groaned as he got back to his feet, “Anyway - if you’re done pityin’ yourself, Ben an’ I thought the two of you could get acquainted over dinner.”

“That… sounds nice,” Milve said, standing to follow.

“Brats are out for the night,” Owren added, “Went into town to celebrate the boy’s peerage with that nervy assistant and gardener lass - and their guards, ‘course. Prince is off bein’ public with his new beau - how he managed to find one that fast, I’ll never understand…”

“Oh, I see,” the priest said, feeling his tail swish again. Just the three of them, then.

He’d felt an attraction to others before, but he’d never acted on it - he’d seen it as a distraction to his service to Iescula. But he’d been proven wrong about so much already, this was just one more thing he felt he should explore with this new opportunity.

“Well, turns out there’s no more High Priest around,” Owren called out as he entered his cottage, “But I found a regular one mopin’.”

I did say I liked his honesty, Milve thought in bemusement.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” Beneford replied, setting up the table next to the hearth.

“Stories everywhere,” Owren snorted, making his way to the kitchen to check what was cooking, “Only matters if they’re worth the tellin’.”

“I don’t think we’ve had a chance to be properly introduced,” Beneford said, holding out a hand, “Beneford, former Captain of the Guard in Jost.”

“Milve,” the demon replied, hesitating a moment before shaking, “Former High Priest of Iescula.”

Beneford snorted, “Owren doesn’t like sharing the kitchen when he cooks, so why don’t you tell me how that happened while he finishes up?”

“Wouldn’ mind sharin’ if you knew how to make more than camp tack or the boy knew how to prepare meat,” Owren replied, “I let Ayelma help cause she knows what she’s about, but her brother can only craft potions ‘n the like. If this one knows how to prepare human food at all, I’d have to stick my cane up my ass the keep from falling over.”

“I don’t,” Milve snorted, hesitating again before taking a seat.

Beneford sat one seat over, “Well, since Owren’s not impaling himself, I suppose your story will have to do for entertainment.”

By the end of his retelling, Beneford was marginally more sympathetic to his demotion, saying:

“Well, it’s never too late to turn over a new leaf - doesn’t mean people you’ve hurt are obligated to forgive you, though.”

“That’s certainly true,” Milve sighed, “I’ll be notifying the castle staff of my demotion tomorrow morning to request more appropriate quarters for my new station. It’s technically not official until then anyway.”

“It’s ready,” Owren said.

“Excuse me,” Beneford said, getting up to help with the plates.

As the former guard captain reached for one, his hand brushed over one of Owren’s - and they both paused. Carefully, Beneford took a step into his partner’s space - letting his hand ghost up the other man’s arm before he placed a gentle kiss against his temple.

Milve looked away - as much as he yearned to be part of such a soft display of affection, at this moment, he felt like an intruder.

In only a few moments, he looked back as plates were set down - noting he had a significantly larger portion than the other two.

“Think I portioned it out right, size-wise,” Owren huffed, taking the seat between Milve and Beneford, “Still some left, though.”

“Thank you,” Milve said, taking an experimental taste. It was some kind of hearty fish stew, and while the flavor was… different from demon fare, it was good.

Beneford chuckled, “After all Owren’s told me, I thought you might refuse it for being human food.”

Milve choked in surprise.

“He knows better ‘n that now,” Owren snorted.

After clearing his throat, Milve said, “I… do apologize for my earlier behavior.”

“You already apologized to the boy,” Owren asked, “He got the brunt of it, after all. And I don’ mean the big ceremony. That’s politics - that personal apology was the one that took guts.”

Milve felt… both pleased and embarrassed by the statement.

“I’d say giving up his position to make such a political apology also took guts,” Beneford said - hesitating before placing a hand on his partner’s wrist, “Though I still think the personal apology was necessary.”

Owren opened his mouth, staring at the contact - then swallowed what he’d been about to say and left his free hand where it was to say, “‘Spose you have a point.”

“Was it really so different,” Milve asked, then cleared his throat and gestured at their hands, “In the Human Realm, I mean.”

“No one would bat an eye in Asalban,” Beneford sighed, rubbing his partner’s wrist with his thumb, “But in Jost, well…”

“Ebener wouldn’ a let it cost us our jobs,” Owren half-mumbled, “Good man, he is. But Ben would of lost the respect of many of his subordinates and peers. My staff were commoners, didn’ put as much stock in that kind of thing - but the nobles would have done their damnedest to make my life miserable. Ebener’s one man - he could only do so much on that front.”

“He was trying to change things - for Malson, and everyone else,” Beneford said, starting to pull away.

Owren grabbed his hand, holding tightly, “Yeah, well. We’re here now. No use trying to puzzle out how things could have gone after they’re over.”

“You don’t think you’ll… go back?” Milve asked.

“Taking back the throne would mean more war,” Beneford sighed, “I know Eb - he won’t want that. It’s always the common people that suffer most in that. Even if he did, Ferrick’s got Imperial support now - where would he get the manpower? It wouldn’t be fair to ask Jurao, and it would just set the Empire even more against the Demon Realm. Better to focus on starting over than trying to reclaim the past.”

“Starting over,” Milve sighed, “Can be very difficult.”

Owren snorted, “Stealin’ my words again…”

Beneford chuckled, and brought his partner’s hand up to brush a kiss on his knuckles, “You have good words.”

Milve found himself smiling just watching the pair - this was nice.

“Sides,” Owren huffed, “Sometimes it’s better to see it as a new opportunity.”

Milve flinched as the human hooked his ankle around one of the priest’s, looking at him in surprise.

Owren just arched a brow at him.

The priest chuckled, feeling his face heat again as he said, “Well, I suppose turnabout is fair play…”