She gave a stern nod to the men manning the drawbridge. They let her in without questioning the pull-cart full of boxes—there was a certain level of respect they had gained for her, and it wasn't unexpected, since they were only recruits.

The walk to Caesar's tent was short and made in purposeful strides. She said hello to a few of the men passing by, barked at a couple of slaves to move faster and did her best to look as unapproachable as possible. It was a pride thing; she worked with men and men alone, as the Legion had no place in its ranks for women. Not until her, at least. She'd make it easier for them to not know the difference.

Entering the tent was a normal thing for her. She left the cart outside, taking three specific boxes with her, each one tied with different colored ribbon: red, black and yellow. She stood tall in front of the man who made her proud to be herself, boxes held by the ribbons in the fingers of her left hand. Her trademark scowl never left her face.

"Hello again." She greeted, never losing any of her cool. The Praetorians merely bid her ave and Caesar himself looked at her with that gleam in his eyes he got when he always saw her—the look you get after finding a diamond beneath a pile of shit.

"Is there something you needed, Valence?" He asked her, and she frowned deeper. By now the man must have known it was in her nature to do such all the time. She first met him with a frown, she operated on him with a frown and even upon hearing the best of news it would only turn into a neutral expression.

"Yes. These are for you all." She handed the box with the red ribbon to the man on the throne, singled out Lucius for the slightly smaller box with the black ribbon and handed one of the other Praetorians the yellow-ribboned box. "Enjoy them as you would enjoy the sight of a town of profligates being burned to the ground." She stepped back to admire her work with a frown on her face.

Caesar was the first to open his box, and he raised an eyebrow at the contents. He gave a dry laugh. "And what exactly is this supposed to be, Valence?"

"It is a tribute to my work team, Lord Caesar. I'm expressing my appreciation in a different way than usual, but do not take it as a sign of feminine weakness—consider my exceptional baking abilities to be a statement proclaiming my war against any current unhappiness that may plague any man of this army. You may also see it as an effort to feed you all to the best of my ability. A well fed soldier makes for a quicker kill. Eat them at your discretion, of course. I've distributed several boxes to the other camps in the Mojave area. Aurelius of Phoenix deemed them edible."

Before she could give Caesar the written note from the Centurion confirming that her baked goods were alright to eat he had already taken a couple of bites. His eyebrows shot up in faint surprise before he smiled at her, finishing the rest of the cookie. "This is good, Valence. You'd make a good woman."

"No. I would not."

"I honestly expected," he ignored her, taking a bite out of another cookie. "that these boxes would contain the heads of high ranked NCR staff. But this is just as good, I suppose."

Lucius shrugged, biting into one of his own cookies, as the other Praetorians were doing with their box. "It would raise troop morale."

She nodded, never losing the frown. "Do I have permission to distribute these to the rest of the camp?"

Caesar waved her away, smirking, enjoying his cookies, just as she had planned him to. "Yes, of course. Just don't cause an uproar over it. The day hasn't yet ended, and I intend for my men to work towards reward, not simply achieve it."

She grunted in confirmation and turned to leave the tent but stopped short. She turned halfway, managing to pull her expression into what was seen as a terrifying smirk. "Oh, and please, have someone inform the Legate that I'll be meeting him in about a week to discuss plans for Hoover Dam with him over tea—and cookies."

As she left, Lucius leaned over to Caesar. "I don't think that was meant to be threatening at all."

Caesar shook his head. "No, it wasn't. The only woman I've ever let into our ranks and she never ceases to amaze."

She placed a box at the head of each tent, enough to feed the legionaires that would come back to them later. A box to Antony, because he was excellent at his job, one for Silus since he was currently back at the camp and she liked him well enough. Box upon box given to every soldier, every man of rank, even the young children who were training to one day be excellent soldiers. At the end of her run she settled herself down in her own tent, at the far end of the camp and waited, one box undelivered.

Eventually there were sounds of surprise that came from the tents around her, and she could only grimace (in pleasure, mind you) at the efforts of her hard work. She took the last box, tied with a violet ribbon and set it next to her head as she reclined. The red of the tent consumed her, and she sighed, rubbing a hand over weary eyes.

It had been a difficult four months for her, but she had rolled with the punches to be where she was at the moment. She didn't treat becoming the first female legionaire as a joke—much effort, much change was needed. She shaved her hair straight off the day after she received the Mark, trimming it until it was only a half a centimeter high from the top of her head. Her face was already rather rough, so she looked enough like a male to fit in. More like a teenaged boy than anything else, but it would have to do until she grew much older and her cheeks began to sink in. She'd give it ten years.

She hadn't had her own set of armor back then, but she had made sure to dress in red and black, and most importantly, come bearing the gift of the desecrated head of one Robert Edwin House on the sharp end of a spear. Caesar was so impressed with the gesture that he had it set up outside of his tent for a week.

She had told him quite frankly of her opinion after destroying the robots in the substation for him. She informed him that she wished to be a part of his ranks, her willingness to go through each individual rung of the ladder to climb her way up to becoming a respected member and invaluable asset to him. She even told him of her resolve to live the Legion life, as opposed to remaining untouched by the wastes in her suite at the Lucky 38. To eat when she was allowed, sleep only when necessary and live inside of a tent that was even smaller than her bathroom back on the Strip. Caesar, needless to say, took her up on the offer, but instead of having her run headfirst into battle he had her accomplish the more delicate tasks that needed to be done.

She supposed the trust had made itself absolutely clear after his operation. She had an incredible knowledge in medicine, something that suited her just fine, and Caesar too, now that he was well again. Time progressed and the tasks got harder and harder, her coworkers constantly upping the stakes, but eventually it turned into a pleasant calm, knowing that she had done well. She took the short opportunity to express her appreciation to every member of the legion by crafting the most delicious baked goods she could manage.

And outside, they all thanked her with comments on how good they were. Eventually they would find out it was her. But for now she was content to revel in a job well done.

"What is this madness I'm hearing about cookies in the camp?" She didn't move, only frowned deeper as the owner of the last box of cookies stepped into their shared tent.

"Ave, Vulpes. These are for you." She slid him the box with her hand, continuing to look up to the top of her tent. She could hear the rustling of the thin cardboard and a sigh. She finally sat up, across from Vulpes Inculta, her mentor, her confidante.

The man who had inspired her to become a part of the Legion was staring at the cookies, a perfectly groomed eyebrow raised. "Why did you bake cookies for the entirety of the camp, Valence?"

"I've told Lord Caesar that I'm proclaiming my war on—" He held up a hand to silence her.

"No. Wait. Why did I even ask?" He smirked, lifting a cookie. "Trust you to bake cookies in a thinly veiled attempt to make us happy. Thank you."

She felt her lips tug upwards until she was giving him the perfect poker face. She shrugged while he ate the first cookie. "If it makes you feel any better, after I was finished making them I cooked the ashes of a powder ganger into a loaf of bread and gave it to some profligate whore who tried to sell me her body."

Vulpes managed a small smile. "Yes, it does make them taste even better."

She laughed, although her face was mirthless.

She sat and watched him eat through five cookies, no doubt in her mind that he was hungry from a long day of dealing with delicate information. Espionage was sure to give a man a hunger that could only be quelled with delicious baked goods.

"Have you even had any of these?" He asked her around a bite. She shook her head.

"Only one. I had to make sure that I could make enough for every Legionaire in the Mojave to have at least five. I prepared 90 for you, Lucius and Caesar alone. "

His eyes widened marginally, something quite unlike him, before he rolled his eyes and pushed the cookies forward, directly between the two.

She looked at the box, then back to him, almost as if she didn't understand. Finally, she put a tentative hand in the box to bring a cookie to her mouth. She ate it politely. "Thank you." She mumbled over a mouthful. He grunted in reply.

They finished the entire box between the two of them before they readied themselves for bed. This was her most valued time, whenever he was back in the camp. The time where they could talk without worry of anything but themselves.

"Of course, I never told you this. No one ever did." A statement meaning that he was about to share with her information not intended for her ears.

"Of course not."

"When I went to report my findings to Caesar I saw him contentedly feasting on your gift. Before I left he spoke openly to Lucius about the promotion to Centurion that you'll be receiving within the next two weeks, granted you're on your best behavior."

She almost thought she smiled. "Excellent. One step closer to Legate then, I suppose."

Vulpes snorted. "Yes, I suppose I would rather it be you than Lanius. If Caesar's unfortunate demise were to come about, I'd advise that if you haven't already acquired that position, that you take it away from him quickly. There's no doubt in my mind that you'd be able to do it. And you'd make such an excellent leader," Here, his voice took on a sarcastic tone. "you bake cookies."

Valence could feel the corners of her lips tugging further and further up her face. "Yes. But only to raise troop morale, of course."

Vulpes gave a dry laugh and turned to the other side. "Goodnight, Valence."

"Goodnight, Vulpes."

In the morning when Vulpes awoke, before her and many of the other Legionaries were to rise, he swore he could see her lips turned upwards.