Private Tales Dawn's Ignition

[Nym]

Nymeasha's emerald stare shifted to the large man and narrowed as she watched him sit, her lips kicking up at the corner ever-so-slightly. To the second who spoke, she dipped her chin in agreement before shooting a quiet glare to the komodi.

'Perhaps, It would be best if you were to call us to a proper meeting, your grace.'
​

Your Grace. The title sent an odd chill through her, though she remained ever steady as she turned her attention to the woman. "Yes, I intend to. But first I will bathe, and eat. It has been a long journey. We shall meet in the council chambers at sundown." she quirked a brow and stepped down from the dais with a glance to Settra, expecting him to follow.

She didn't wait for any answers or objections, and as she walked the aisle of the throne room, guards and handmaidens fell into step around her. She glanced to one female in particular, who peeled away. Her chambers had already been made ready for her, and the handmaidens that followed her were already fussing around here and there, making a bath ready and bringing her fresh wine along side a tray of fruits, breads and cheeses.

She undressed behind a vanity screen, her clothing quickly collected and taken for cleaning as she stepped into a robe held open for her. "Thank you." she said with a small smile, causing the female to pause for a brief moment before dipping into a quick curtsy as she remembered herself.

"Your Grace."

And there it was again. Nym swallowed and cleared her throat with a glance around at the remaining women. "Leave us." she asked softly, and strode straight onto her balcony, the largest one in the palace that looked over the gardens and out to the seas beyond. Her fingers splayed on the cool stone as she leaned, drawing a deep breath.

"What the fuck am I doing?.." she groaned quietly to Settra now that they were alone.

 

[Settra]

While some looked disgruntled, none argued with the new Sultana's decree. They had waited long, certainly, but a few more hours would harm no one. The council members and other courtiers began to bustle among themselves and file out, just as Nym did. Settra followed Nym out, unsure what procedure would have him do.

He spent the next good while waiting for Nym and doing rounds, ensuring her safety. Each time he stepped out from her room he would eye a palace guard and nod. Then, he would check all potential entry and exit points, and examine the servants to ensure they weren't up to anything nefarious. When one was an assassin, it was easy to know what others might try. So far, no one tried much of anything, beyond doing their jobs. That was reassuring, if only for the moment.

"Leave us."

Settra watched the attendants file out before joining Nym on the balcony. This was not a view he was used to. Ragash had its canals, surely, and he'd spent time in Annuakat as well, but the ocean was something that forever intrigued Settra. It was a constant reminder of how much more world there was out there.

He pulled his mask back leaned down next to Nym, resting his forearms on the railing of the balcony and letting the afternoon wind blow through his hair.
"Ruling, I assume," He quirked a brow and the faintest of smiles at her. A lighthearted jest, or an attempt at one, perhaps poorly placed. He knew her doubts, saw it on every concerned wrinkle on her face. "What troubles you, Nym?"

 

[Nym]

"Ruling.." the word tumbled out in a breathy laugh and bit down on her lip, her head shaking slow and her gaze distant as she thought on the answer to his question.

"Much." she glanced up at him. "I don't know what Medja was thinking. She puts too much faith in me. I know this life only from its darkened corners, not from on the dais. Not with eyes on me, not with the weight of a city on my shoulders. I'm not strong enough for this, Settra."

She turned to face him fully, pressing herself to the firm muscle of his chest in hopes that she'd find anchor in his arms and a moment to breathe. She'd been here for no time at all and already she was crumbling at the thought of what lay ahead of her, at the fear of what these courtiers truly thought of her, if they would follow her at all.

"How do I ensure they take me seriously without becoming my father? They know his ways, his cruelty. I don't want to be that. Will they think me weak if I want the city to thrive where he allowed it to suffer?" her jaw clenched.

 

[Settra]

Strong arms wrapped around the once-princess, guiding her into whatever comfort the assassin could provide. A low hum rumbled in Settra's throat as he mulled over Nym's concerns.
"'Not strong enough?' I don't think I believe that." He assured her in his low rasp, one of his well-worn hands coming to frame her face as soft, brown eyes rested their gaze upon her beauty. "I've watched you do the impossible several times now. I don't think the girl who stabbed the God-Emperor and slew a practiced blood mage can be called 'weak' by anyone."

What counted for Settra as a smile shown down at her, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb.
"Even herself."

Of course, it was still going to take her time to acclimate to this admittedly wholly unfamiliar role. That was only natural.
"Even the dullest blade can be honed with time. You have greatness in you. I have seen it. This may simply take time." Settra replied, ever frank in his words. "What you want is not weakness. Strength does not demand cruelty. As assassins, I think we know this better than most."
Assassins did not take their time with a kill. Flashy displays of brutality were not often among an assassin's repertoire, yet none would doubt their efficacy. Settra didn't consider himself a poet by any stretch of the imagination, but he did like this metaphor.

"Perhaps an assassin's touch is what is needed here. Your wit, but also your directness. What is most important, however..." His voice became softer, as did his gaze. "...is to remember that you are not your father. You are Nymeasha. You are greater than Emir Soleiman's legacy."

 

[Nym]

The cage his body made around her was of instant comfort and the sound he made settled deep in her bones, soothing her nerves. She breathed him in and groaned.. "You always know exactly what to say." she smirked. He did, no matter what worries she had he restored her faith and settled her mind and he made it seem so easy.

"You're right.. I can do this.." she smiled up at him, losing herself in his soft eyes. With him, she could. He would keep her tethered, would defend her and be here whenever she was falling apart at the seams. She preferred to be strong; she was strong enough to risk being broken all over again, to love again, full knowing her own fragility. She'd known heartbreak enough to shatter her mind, to leave her soul feeling like dust in the wind and her body unwilling to live. But Settra, he was worth her life and all that she had left was his.

"I love you, Settra." she swallowed. "Thank you, for having so much faith in me."

 

[Settra]

"I love you, Settra."

The words sent shivers down his spine and made his skin alight in goosebumps. Settra had known for some time how he felt about Nym, and had been fairly certain that she felt the same. There was obviously more to them than mere infatuation, that he knew, but he'd been too fearful to put to words how much, how quickly their relationship had grown since their first meeting. His heart's fullness welled within him and threatened to burst his chest with its intensity.

Settra's normally cold gaze met Nym's and melted into pure warmth. The Shifra had worked so hard to create an emotionless shell to imprint their doctrine upon. Master Ismael had beaten and whipped those teachings into him for so many years. Yet Nymeasha had managed to cut through all of that in just a short time, and with four. Simple. Words.

In that moment, Settra realized he'd have forsaken the Shifra and his former master a million times over before he'd ever pass this precious moment up. A deeply contented sigh passed through him as he took the plunge.
"I love you too, Nymeasha." He answered her in a near whisper, his gaze expressing his genuine warmth. His eyes drifted shut and he planted a kiss upon her, first on her forehead, and then on her lips. If she could pull this out of Settra, there truly was no limit to what she could do.

 

[Nym]

This, this had been all that she'd wanted. For someone to see her, and to see her as more than what she saw in herself. Settra did. He'd taught her more about herself in the time she'd known him than she'd ever learned on her own. Unlike most men she'd ever known, he lifted her up, as though her own feet were far too good for the ground they walked on, rather than resenting her. Nym had never required protection, she'd been taught how to look after herself and she'd been taught well, but Gods she'd needed this nurture. She'd needed to feel this safe, this secure. He made her fearless.

Her hand rose to rest on his cheek. She knew what he'd told her of his teachings, knew what he'd been subjected to. Neither had felt themselves worthy of the other, but here they were, holding one another's hearts in their hands. She was entirely his, and whether she failed or succeeded as Sultana, she would still be his and that made her brave enough to try.

Nym's full lips curled and she smiled brightly at that whisper, her heart knotting so tightly in her chest that it ached. Her eyes closed as he kissed her, and she let out a deep sigh she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. She'd never heard those words before, not for her. Not even her own parents had ever said such a thing to her, even as a child. She savoured every moment of that kiss, having to resist the urge to nudge him toward her bed and better explain just what those words had meant to her.

Her eyes glistened like polished emerald as she broke the kiss with a shaky breath and looked up at him, studying his face in a whole new, perfect light. He loved her. She beamed again at the thought and laughed sheepishly under her breath.

"Nobody has ever said that to me before." she told him with a light smirk. "But, I could certainly get used to it." she admitted.

A knock at the door sounded and a voice muffled behind it. "Your Grace. The Council have gathered and await your arrival."

 

[Settra]

Not once had Nym failed at evoking Settra's heart. Every kiss, every touch, each and every movement, however slight, brought a rush through the once-cold assassin's body and mind. He marveled at that fact. They two were disparate of origin, yet kin in experience. They'd grown discordantly around those experiences, yet had bonded over them all the same. They had both gone without love for much of their lives and now found what they had been missing in each other.

Nym was his blessing. If he never received anything else that was good in his life, he would be satisfied still. What more could Settra ask for, after all?
"I think I can get used to saying it," He replied, returning her cheeky grin in what way he could. "and hearing it as--"

"Your Grace. The Council have gathered and await your arrival."

Ah. That was what he could ask for: more time. The muffled voice served as a cruel reminder of what had been thrust upon the both of them. There was only so much living for each other that the two of them could do now. Responsibility would always rear its ugly head eventually.

Settra sighed quietly.
"I...will be happy to express that love more, when next we are able. I will follow your lead." He concluded politely. If his time in Medja's service was anything to go off of, he knew that neither the servant nor this council would wait. All he could do was support Nym as best he could. He just wished that could mean more than standing silently.

 

[Nym]

"Stay close to me." she whispered before drawing one more steadying kiss from her protector.

It still felt strange to be in the home that she grew up in. Stranger still was that she was here, and that the attention was focused on her. There had been days where she'd passed a hundred or so faces by in these rooms and halls without so much as a glance in acknowledgement. Just another weapon, nameless and faceless.

Now everyone she passed stopped to bow or walked around her in an entourage of guards and handmaidens. She was certain that it would be no time at all before it grew tiresome. But for now, whilst she fully trusted only one soul in this gargantuan palace, she would give the guards around her the benefit of the doubt and remain alert.

Entering the throne room from the back of the room meant a far shorter and less uncomfortable walk to the dais, and Nym dipped her chin with a polite smile to each of the council members as they welcomed her back.

"Your patience is appreciated." she told them as she lowered herself into her seat and looked up at Settra, inviting him to sit at her right.

"Now. Where were we?.." she smiled, and laced her fingers together, her chin held high in bolstered assurance.

 

[Settra]

Settra assumed his natural place, following his sultana's--his love's--wish to stay by her side. He stood silently, masked as usual, to the right of her throne. The assassin found himself wishing he had any right or place to speak to Nym whilst she assumed this role, but it was not his station nor duty to speak now. This gathering was about to become the hotbed of discussion, ideation, and debate among the ruling class of a city-state. Settra was a lowly servant, a killer, a guard. It was almost strange that it was only recently he had to begin reminding himself of that fact.

With the sultana seated, it seemed the council members were now permitted to follow suit. First those who belonged in the elaborate inner seats, those closest to the throne, took their places. Nym might've known them as the Aspects Tetra. The bespectacled woman from before, the spymaster Lansa of Ragash, sat to Nymeasha's left; to the left of her was an impish, eccentrically dressed, young woman, the oracle Ankhhi. On Nym's right was first the imposing military figure, General Bedario Khai, followed by the very reserved and modest treasurer, Mentu of Salitra.

When the Aspects had taken their seats, the remaining seven followed suit, though several did so with much less grace than the Aspects.

"With all eleven of us gathered together under you, your grace, the first meeting of this council since before the Siege of Bread may now commence." General Khai spoke, a calm authority exuding from him as his powerful voice filled the chamber. "As Sultana, you may state your intent for the gathering and pose questions of us, and if it pleases you, the council in turn may seek answers or permissions from you."

"Indeed. There are many matters to attend to that we have not been able to see properly taken care of in the absence of a proper ruler. I am certain the Savants, in particular, have many concerns they wish to see addressed." Lansa chimed in as she began to unfurl scrolls and apparently magically prep a few writing implements. Quiet mumblings of concurrence rippled like a wave among the seven council members across from Nym's throne.

The impetus, it seemed, was on Nym.

 

[Nym]

Nymeasha's gaze scanned each one of the Aspects Tetra, her expression guarded. She remained silent as they each took their seats, sparing a moment's glance up at Settra, her constant source of reassurance amidst the political unknown.

After the General had spoken, her chin dipped in agreement and she allowed Lansa to finish speaking before she cleared her throat and spoke herself, her voice resonating with authority as she addressed the council.

"Thank you all for your presence. As we gather to discuss the state of our beloved city, I wanted to emphasize that our primary goal is to ensure its resurgence and prosperity. My father... Did not care well for Salitra. My wish is for our city to thrive in greatness, but to achieve that, we had to address our weaknesses head-on."

Her gaze fell on each council member in turn, studying their reactions, looking for any signs of disloyalty or deceit. "I have entrusted each of you with positions of influence and power, but make no mistake, my trust must be earned, it is not granted freely. I will be watching closely, and actions will speak louder than words."

Nymeasha took a deep breath, her paranoia still lingering in the air. "Now, I asked each of you, where you believe our priorities lie. What are the areas in which our city is weakest, and how would you suggest we remedy those weaknesses?" her brow quirked, and she waited with interest as to what their answers might be.

 

[Settra]

Many of the council members looked to each other. Some, namely Ankhhi, Hassam, and Azibo, merely maintained their gazes upon their Sultana. A pregnant silence followed Nym's question.

Shadya Khouri would be the first to break that silence.
"My lady, if I may...our city is only as strong as its weakest links. Many still languish in the squalor created by the Empire's sacking. Aid should be prioritized to the lowest of our people first."

A billowing plume of smoke manifested in the air as Hassam Safar exhaled a long drag of his pipe. He chuckled briefly as the haze left his lungs.
"Please, forgive the naïveté of young Miss Khouri, your grace. She is hopelessly shackled to her ideals and does not understand the inner workings of major civilizations such as ours," the large merchant spoke, and Shadya glared daggers at him. The elder barely acknowledged the girl. "I am quite certain that several of my fellows would agree on this: trade has begun to stagnate in recent months. The sacking of Salitra did indeed take an economic toll upon our fair city that some might describe as...'astronomical.' Securing new trade agreements is something only within your power as Sultana; everything else, be it humanitarian aid or otherwise, will fall into place after."

Several nods came from among the council. Uminis Sol-Alathel, smug smirk ever glued upon his countenance, leaned forward and steepled his fingers.
"Syid Safar is correct. I'm certain that Syid Mentu, as Aspect of Prosperity, would be able to confirm that much. General Khai, meanwhile, could confirm that trade caravans stagnate only due to instability in the deserts caused by the, ahem, change in management the Empire has introduced. Bandits and raiders have made overland travel in the region quite dangerous. Quelling these raids would do much towards restoring our great city's wealth."

"The sand elf's got the right of it!" Vadrak interjected loudly. "Ain't got any ore comin' in from the mines cuz the convoys keep gettin' ransacked midway here. No ore means no metal, no metal means no ironworks trade! My forges are practically shut down, can't pay my fuckin' workers!"

More nods and mumblings among the council. Settra looked about, trying his best to keep up with what was being said. At least some of the picture was being painted now.