“Well…” Regan said, trying to contain the smirk that started to spread across her face. “You know, now that you’re looking like a proper Nevermerean soldier, I thought it was high time you talked like one too.”

She had no idea how this was going to go over. Before Othello could respond, they’d reached their destination. Regan opened the door and held out an arm for Othello to enter. If Othello looked inside, he’d see a woman standing there, looking a little nervous, with a desk ready with books and parchment.

Regan snorted, earning a surprised look from the instructing witch before she swallowed her laughter.

“Oh we’re not tryna teach you to read,” Regan said with an arguably sadistic grin, “She’s gonna teach you how to talk.” She clapped Othello on the back, using that hand to guide him to a waiting chair.

“If soldiers are going to follow your orders one day, they gotta be able to understand you. Hell, I can’t understand you half the time.” Regan sat down too, making clear she intended to stay. “Gonna strip that accent of yours. Make you talk real pretty.”

Regan was enjoying this a little bit too much. But you had to get your kicks somewhere.

Regan’s humor was fading. The self-satisfied smile that had alighted on her features before flew away in favor of a scowl directed in Othello’s direction. She looked at the witch, raising a pausing hand before focusing on Othello again. She stepped forward, taking Othello by the arm and turning him so both their backs faced the witch. The Regan he saw now would be resolved. Frightening, even. And most certainly unforgiving.

“I have worked with you. I’ve given you liberties when you’ve earned them. But whatever understanding I’ve shown you will not be shown by the king. Nevermere’s success is a credit to our discipline. You’ve demonstrated it on the training grounds, you have to demonstrate it here. Otherwise, all of this has been for nothing. For the both of us.” Regan paused, hand still on Othello’s arm. “You’re going to learn, one way or another. Am I clear?”

Regan didn’t get like this with Othello often, not anymore. More than anything that should make evident how important this was.

“Good.” Regan pushed Othello forward a little before taking a chair in the corner of the room. She crossed her legs and arms, watching them. The witch offered Othello a chair, and if he accepted it, she would begin the lesson.

“Repeat after me,” She said, “I have got a date at a quarter to eight; I’ll see you at the gate, so don’t be late.”

The lesson was longer than she was certain Othello would prefer. After a couple of hours, until Othello’s tongue was likely numb with practice, Regan would put a halt to it. The teacher was stern, but Regan thought that was for the best. Othello needed a kick in the pants. Needed to understand why this was so important. At a base level, it was important to Cassian, which was enough for Regan anyway.

The woman left so that Regan and Othello could be alone. Her expression softened. It wasn’t often that Othello showed vulnerability, as so she would meet him with the same. She approached, putting a hand on his shoulder to meet his eyes with the utmost sincerity.

“I want you to be successful here.” Regan said, voice low and soft, “I’m sure you hate this—I know I would—but I need you to trust me.” She paused, brow pinching together. “Please.”