Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
“Well I didn’t think I was the most desired thing in the world…” Chaceledon muttered, looking down. His scars alone should have disqualified him. The rank tear down his rear, the burn on his cheek. The scars on his lip and shoulders and stomach. He looked as though he’d gone through a shredder. Becoming a dragon hadn’t helped either; there were large patches of scaleless skin pulled tight by scar tissue and paler than the rest of his amethystine body. He wasn’t beautiful anymore. He wasn’t at the standards he was a few thousand years ago.

“You’re not.” Seikilos said sharply, her eyes raking over him as if she could pick apart his clothing and see the scars he struggled to hide with makeup. “But your Dahn is. If you are married off before your brother, you will embarrass him and your father, and your mate will have the chance to fold your father’s Dahn into his own. With your combined estates, your father’s mining company and slaves, not to mention your connections with Persian…you are desirable. Just not physically.”

She stated it as a matter of fact, and Chaceledon wilted a little. So it wasn’t because of his former reputation as a designer, or that he’d succeeded in hiding his scars. The makeup felt foolish now that Seikilos could see through it so plainly.

“Hey, it’s alright. If you wear a mask on that cheek and fix the way you stand, you should look okay.” Fosse piped up.

Chaceledon stared at him. Now the way he stood was wrong? Perhaps he’d gotten lax around the Inizae but he’d always had excellent posture! Dear gods, he’d be a humpbacked, scarred old lizard. He straightened himself, redoubling his efforts to make his shoulders straight and not rest so much on the hip without scars.

“Better.” Ataire volunteered. The twins were hushed with a slap by their aunt.

Chaceledon watched, looking very insecure, as Seteta browsed the crystals. Seikilos followed her, and picked up the moss agate. “You need a range of tones. This is only the first, unless you can reach the house…which I sincerely doubt you can, being an elf. Even Inizae are beneath our abilities.” she sniffed a bit.

Rage sparked in Chaceledon’s eyes. As though Seteta were any normal pet!
 
Seteta spun on her heel, glaring back as Seikilos beat Chaceledon's fragile self esteem into the ground with her words.

"It doesn't matter," she spoke up, switching back to Abtat because she couldn't risk him misunderstanding. Her voice firm with an underlying fury as she caught Chaceledon's eyes. Don't look away from me her gaze said. "Anyone who cannot see past your scars is a fool. I have said it before, and I will say it as many times as I must before you understand: your scars mean you were strong enough to survive.

"The dahn means nothing if you do not come with it."

Her eyes softened then, and she took a breath to steady herself, then turned back to Seikilos.

"There are more," she spoke in Draconian again, pointing to cinnabar and black onyx also on the shelf. "But I am not certain if they meld well for your style of music." Then she quirked her head as she looked over at Seikilos. "What do you mean by... reach the house? Connect with its magic? Did you not feel it greet me when I stepped inside? Anything that is an element of earth, whether it is sand or crystal or finest gemstone, I can use it."

Seteta scrunched her nose as she thought for a moment. She'd never used the magic for music before, and she wasn't sure how much of the actual workings of her magic that other users could sense or see, especially those who were not Inizae. Most humans had only ever been able to see whatever physical affects there might be.

She stepped away from the shelves, and stretched her senses through the home, reaching back toward the geode.

Show me, she commanded it. Show me something about you that only Seikilos knows.
 
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Seteta pinned him with a look. It was an intensity that only made his loyalty to her surge in response; that look was commanding. He couldn’t have disobeyed it if he tried. That was the look of a dahna. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He had to be strong for her. There was no point to this if he was weaker than she.

“This isn’t about my style of music. It is about yours. Magic is unique as a fingerprint. Just because draconian music has a certain tone, or because we use it a certain way, doesn’t mean that is how we would practice music naturally.” Seikilos said patiently, in perfect, clear Abtati. She spoke the tongue as though born to it. She picked up the onyx and cinnabar, handing them to Seteta.

The dahna softened slightly. “Perhaps once, that would have been true. Once, your people and mine accentuated each other. But your blood has become so thin, and ours so rare, I wish I could believe you.”

She flicked her wrist toward her son and daughter dismissively. They stood and bowed, leaving in complete silence. The twins were transfixed to the spot, either by lack of dismissal or sheer wonder at what was happening Chaceledon wasn’t sure. He suspected a bit of both. They didn’t seem the type to give up a good bit of gossip.

The geode responded to her. It welcomed her with soft and gentle touches, through the channels of magic in her feet, up her calves and around her waist like a child welcoming a mother. It embraced her, and held her there for a moment. At the query, it touched her cheek and guided her gaze toward the wall.

A woman who looked shockingly like Seteta danced in the ballroom, in the arms of a dragon with merry pink eyes and soft blonde hair. Music softly thrummed, an ancient song crafted by not only dragons but Inizae alike. Inizae had helped raise the geode. Inizae had once sung with dragons. The vision faded, and Seteta was given not the image, but the feeling of something just beyond the wall. A small shrine, constructed by the dragons for the Inizae, long since covered over by redecorating. It was likely Seikilos was the only one old enough to remember it’s existence.
 
Seteta switched back to Abtat, uncertain if she'd used the wrong tense or phrase in describing her magic. She hoped Nestor would understand. While she could carry a casual conversation in Draconian, minute details about the workings of her magic were... more difficult.

"I did not say all of the Inizae." Seteta shook her head, and barely held back a shiver as the magic of the house and the earth around them began to curl through her. "I said I have the ability to use any element of the earth. I simply have to touch it."

She fell silent then, listening and feeling what the home was trying to tell her. When it embraced her, it was so lifelike that she nearly lifted her hands to stroke a head that wasn't there. When she was directed to look toward the wall, to see the memory, she found herself quietly humming along with the tune. It was... familiar, somehow.

"There is something sacred, but neglected, behind the wall, isn't there?" Seteta asked as the magic's intensity slowly faded away. "Do you even remember it yourself? Or have you forgotten?"
 
Seikilos stared at Seteta, looking as though she’d been slapped across the face. Chaceledon struggled to keep his composure calm, much as a grin was threatening to fight its way loose. He was getting used to people underestimating his fiancé. Seeing them knocked on their tailbones by her was the best part. More than that, he had hope Seteta would grow and reach her potential. Under the Volkers she would be terrifying in combat. Under him, she would learn draconian gentility and politics.

What he would give to see through the next hundred years.

“I knew it was you.” To her credit, Seikilos mastered her face quickly. The slightly arrogant look of superiority was back. “I thought it impossible after so long…that the rantings of the Autumn Court were a lie. But here you are…proof that the cycle exists.”

Now it was Chaceledon’s turn to look stunned. “You know the Autumn Court..?”

“I wanted to ensure my husband never joined it, and my expectations with my own death were clear.” Seikilos flicked a wrist at him, and followed it with a glare when he didn’t recognize he was being dismissed. Chaceledon opened his mouth to say something and snapped it closed, sliding out of the room. To think dragons had been in the Autumn Court, mere miles away from Witherhold, and they’d missed each other!

He made for the kitchen. He was starting to realize why the Volkers had such a low tolerance for nobility.

Seikilos stood in front of the shrine with Seteta. She looked at the wall. Her magic joined with the elf’s, and the panel on the wall shuddered in response. It shook a tapestry loose like an irritated horse, and slid back and to the left to reveal the shrine. It was a depiction of Abtatu in amethyst, and had clearly been much loved. The carving was incredibly detailed, visible even through layers of dust. Flowers long crumpled to mummified echos were arranged around its feet, and offering bowls crusted over with the ancient remains of fruit and liquor stood at either corner. Behind it, the flag of the Inizae stood. Instead of the merry little lizard, a dragon crawled in the same pose.

“Dahn Hedoni welcomes you, Queen Nailah, and we are here to serve.” Seikilos’ voice was soft, but heavy with remembrance.
 
Seteta didn't miss Seikilos' stunned expression, but she graciously ignored it.

"The cycle?" she questioned quietly as Seikilos and Chaceledon spoke. He was dismissed quite quickly, though, and while Seteta's breath caught as he walked out of the room, she didn't call him back.

Seikilos came to stand with her then, ans she felt the dragon's magic combine with her home, and together they revealed the shrine, covered in layers of dust.

She couldn't help but gasp at the sight within, and quickly averted her eyes from the figure of Abtatu. At the time of their exile, Abtatu had forbidden the Inizae to use or make any more images or icons. They had begun to equate those with Abtatu's presence... and acted as if their god was absent when the figures were out of sight.

Abtatu had done it so they remembered that their god could be anywhere. In the earth, the waters, the trees. Their kin around them, and even the stars. Abtatu was not limited to a carved image.

Her eyes fell on the flag, the Inizae emblem, but a far more ancient form of it than she'd ever seen before. And she had to confess that since meeting Chaceledon, she couldn't help but wonder if it was supposed to be a dragon all along.

Chaceledon said:
“Dahn Hedoni welcomes you, Queen Nailah, and we are here to serve.” Seikilos’ voice was soft, but heavy with remembrance.
Click to expand...

Seteta spun around to face Seikilos, her eyes wide and face pale. "Please... I am not a queen. I..." Gods, she was both glad that her mother had told her, and also a bit overwhelmed. "I am simply Nailah's descendent. The Inizae have no perav right now."

She... couldn't be Nailah, could she? The Inizae had long burned their dead, to ensure their souls went to Abtatu. And yet... Amphetrion had mistaken her for Nailah as well. It was just a family resemblance, though. She looked a lot like her mother as well. Had Nailah's likeness somehow been passed down, for this many thousands of years?
 
Seikilos fixed her with a look. “You aren’t, but you could be. My Saltarello, bless him for a fool, would never forgive me if I turned you away now. Whatever you think you are, girl, the Dahn will help you, if only to honor their dahnesh’s memory.” she said heavily. The click of Fosse and Ataire closing the door behind them seemed to break the atmosphere. “First thing’s first, you have to focus on Hokkaido’s allegiance, and being accepted into the Dahn properly. That means winning this little contest whatever it takes.”

Seikilos stepped forward and plucked a small amethyst from the dusty shrine, offering it to Seteta. “From the house’s geode. It will bring you luck even if you don’t find use of it in music. Now, let’s get to work.”

__________________________

Chaceledon nursed a small glass of whiskey in the sitting room, perched on a settee. He'd been mildly impressed that Hedoni even knew what whiskey was, but from the flavor it was a decent vintage. Likely gifted from the Fae. Likely Floimish. He smiled at the glass; Aron would be proud of his estimation. They’d both fostered a taste for the drink in Witherhold.

Chaceledon found himself missing the Volkers. After their constant presence, even a few days without them was strange. They’d left with the argument between them hanging in the air. A stab of guilt. He’d been no better than Oor.

Had the wraith’s imprisonment rubbed off on him somehow? He had certainly noticed that Oor had begun taking better care of himself and his belongings after a few short years with him…it stood to reason that some of the wraith’s ideas about capital punishment had rubbed off on the dragon in turn.

Like it or not, he wasn’t truly draconian anymore.

Chaceledon looked up to see Fosse and Ataire sneaking out of the ballroom, and cleared his throat. He set the glass down with the light tinkle of expensive crystal.

“Do you two know Recherade in E minor?” he asked, stopping the young dragons in their tracks.

“I…uh…yes?” Fosse seemed unsure of where he was going with it.

“And serviceable swords?”

“A few in the garden.” Ataire grinned.

Chaceledon stood up and finished his glass. “Let’s hope your playing is better than your sneaking.”
 
Seteta kept her face schooled, though she inwardly winced at the placating gaze that Seikilos fixed on her. She did not know if it was even possible for Nailah to have reincarnated, but she would take whatever help she could right now.

When Seikilos handed her a dusty bit of amethyst, Seteta accepted it with a grateful smile. As she brushed the dust away, the magic in the stone felt as strong and vibrant as the house did.

"It's unusual for a fragment to retain this much magic after it's separated from the main stone," Seteta said as they returned to the ballroom. "The methods used to bring up the geode must have imbued it with even more magic."

Then she sighed and looked around at the instruments about the room. "I will confess that playing music is not my strength. I have a greater talent for singing."
 
“We will do some rudimentary work with stones. I want you to at least have a melody to work with. We can work on getting that singing voice in shape as well; I doubt you’ve had as good of vocalists in your life as you’ll find here.”

Seikilos walked back to the center of the ballroom. “Arrange your stones. Not too close together. Somewhere you can reach with your magic. I want you to sing a note, and match that note with your magic. Fill the stone…and channel it up and through your voice. Keep harmony with it, as best you can.”

She demonstrated, plucking a carnelian off the shelf and setting it down on the floor a few feet away. Seikilos sang a single note, her powerful voice drawing it out without a waver or crack. The stone responded in kind, with a clear note that twisted up and through Seikilos’ voice. It sang with her, and when she fell silent, so did it. Seikilos looked expectantly at Seteta.

They would cover hours of such drills, adding more notes, stones, working on singing posture. Seikilos was a patient teacher but she brooked no arguments. She expected obedience and improvement.

______________________________

Rheinhard had done his best to keep an eye on the Well. Nestor had warned him about it being unstable. They were too far from Seteta and she didn’t have as close of a thumb to it as Oor usually did. The spell was like one of those expensive water clocks the Sunlanders prized; ignore its maintenance needs and it spiraled out of control quickly.

Thankfully, not much damage could be done in two days of Seteta’s absence, but it had some unusual side effects. Nestor had announced intentions for a nap, climbed onto his podium, and hadn’t woken up. Aron had noticed a few of the men in the storage hallway shifting positions in their sleep. Gere and Jess fell asleep again soon thereafter, and Aron relished in the alone time.

The third day without Seteta was bright and early. Rheinhard finally felt well enough to stand and hunt for some breakfast. He’d found a group of chuma just outside the camp, but the minute blood hit his lips he felt it. The clawing, wormlike sensation of someone telling him to take a backseat in his own brain. Then that clawing becoming stronger, ripping him away, and shoving someone else in the driver’s seat.

Klaus threw down a pair of dead chuma just inside the door of their shared tent, and plunked himself down on Aetes’ lap. It was still morning, and frightfully early at that. “Hello honey, I’m home.” Klaus smirked down at Aetes.

So. This was odd.

No Seteta.

No Chaceledon.

Pain in his ribs needling growing arousal in his groin, and no supervision. It wasn’t even his birthday yet. He leaned forward and tilted Aetes’ chin up with a light touch of his fingers. That dangerous mouth kissed down the side of the priest’s neck. Klaus was in a playful mood, almost giddy. How many times had he not had any supervision at all? No Chaceledon wringing his hands over casualties, no Seteta using her sneaky earth tricks, no Nestor badgering him, and no Oor. He could do whatever he wanted! And right now, he felt like playing.

“Wake up.” He sang to Aetes, peeling away the blankets between them so he could sit on his hips properly. He ground himself down against the priest, tugging at his earlobe with his teeth.
 
Seteta nodded, and began to set the stones out as Seikilos showed her what she expected. Most of her magic was intuitive, and she... didn't think too hard about it, but placed the stones around at the distance that felt right, and included the amethyst. She wasn't quite sure how Seikilos intended for her to follow the instructions given and so she made her best guess.

Since the stones were on the floor--also made of earth--it was simple enough to connect with the magic, and listened. When she felt a note resonate through the stone and back to her, she echoed it back with her voice. Her voice was clear and strong, and Seikilos would be pleased that she could project well, but it was a little rough at times. While her range was more extensive than a human's voice, her voice would begin to waver on the few notes prior to the lowest and highest notes she was capable of.

The next several hours were grueling. She sent the stones skittering across the floor more than a few times, and one even vibrated so fiercely Seteta thought it might explode. Only when she could at last sing through a full scale and fill the corresponding stones with magic did the lessons end.

And Seteta's stomach grumbled, echoing through the ballroom.

She gave Seikilos a weak smile.


Aetes had only stirred briefly when Rheinhard stepped out of the tent. The human had gone stir-crazy the last few days, and Aetes knew he needed to get out and work some of that energy off somehow. So he hadn't said anything. Rheinhard's wounds were healing fine so far, and Aetes wasn't his mother.

The priest had drifted back to sleep, knowing Rheinhard would be gone for at least a few hours. Likely till after sunrise, which is why it was a surprise feel fingers on his chin and kisses down his neck after not a very long while.

He bit back a smile, and pretended to stay asleep, curious what Rheinhard would do.

He sighed and groaned a little when the blankets were pulled off, but as soon as Rheinhard's hips were settling on his, Aetes knew something was wrong.

As... not-Rheinhard leaned down and tugged at his earlobe with his teeth, Aetes slid his hand up Rheinhard's back to cup the back of his neck, then tugged the man down into a fierce kiss. But just as he broke the kiss, Aetes flipped him over and made to grab his wrists as he tried to pin the man's thighs to the ground with his knees.

"You are not Rheinhard," Aetes grunted. "Which Volker are you?"
 
Seikilos clearly believed in repetition. Again and again the stones skittered across the floor. The dragon studied the way Seteta’s magic flowed, and slowly corrected it. She would wrap her power around Seteta’s, stemming it if it became too powerful, or giving it an encouraging stroke if she flagged.

It was about finding balance, and the only way to do that was with experience. Gradually, the mistakes lessened. Seteta was a swift and eager study, and didn’t have a poor voice. However, even the best of students needed a break. Seteta did sing through the scales, flawlessly, and only her complaining stomach ruined the sound. One’s body had a way of barging in, didnt it?

“I’ll have guest rooms made up for you, and dinner sent to them. You did well. Tomorrow we begin with scales. Every single morning, scales. Once you sing through them exactly as you’ve done here, we will practice melody and structure.” Seikilos said patiently. “Do you feel well enough to come and find your mate with me?”

Chaceledon was in the back garden. His hair was up, pulled back messily with a leather thong provided by one of the twins, a blade in his hands. The sword wasn’t up to his standards, but it was honestly better than anything he expected out of the twins. It was sharp, the white leather along its hilt had been replaced recently, and it was suitably ostentatious enough to appeal to his vanity.

Ataire was settled in a small ring of stones, and music was rippling through the air. It was a single instrument rather than the varied sounds Hedoni specialized in, and had a light, sweet tone to it.

Fosse found himself wishing he’d volunteered to take the circle-stones rather than face off against the scarred older dragon. Doubtless Chaceledon was making him regret the cracks about his appearance, as their blades crashed together.

Fosse desperately turned Chaceledon’s blade away, and stumbled. Chaceledon’s foot had entangled with his ankle, and it was all Fosse could do to slip out of its embrace before he was pitched forward onto his face. Chaceledon gave him an uncharitable whack to the knee with the flat of his blade.

“Cut it out!” Fosse snarled. Another parry, another whack across the hip. Fosse charged Chaceledon, hoping to put enough speed behind his assault to put Chaceledon on a back foot.

Chaceledon wasn’t even there to greet him. Fosse stumbled a few steps past the other and earned a stern whack across the back of the head. Chaceledon was toying with him!

“Keep your temper and think about where I’m going.” Chaceledon said coolly. “I’ve put a lot of blind charges into the dirt to know they never work out half as well as you think.”

Fosse turned and regarded him, rebalancing his weight between his legs and holding his sword at guard. Chaceledon paced back and forth, managing to look like a mildly inconvenienced big cat. Fosse tried to watch him, guess where he would strike next. Chaceledon stopped but for a split second, and Fosse only had time to bring his blade up to block the downward slash. He’d watched for the other dragon’s weight to shift, but Chaceledon was clearly experienced in guarding that telltale sign.

Moreover, he was stronger. He bore down on Fosse’s blade, a light in his purple eyes. The weapons squealed in protest, and the music stumbled as Ataire opened his eyes and gasped at the scene.

“I yield…” Fosse grunted, driven to his knees. Chaceledon bore down hard enough that he felt sparks from their weapons tickle his nose.

“You know as well as I do there’s no yielding on the field, Huron.”

“Stop!” Ataire flung himself on Chaceledon’s back, and the older dragon stepped back. Fosse sucked in a breath, his sword shivering in his hand. He hadn’t known how much longer he’d be able to hold that. Chaceledon reached behind him and grabbed Ataire by the scalp, flinging him over his back. The young dragon landed with a loud thump on the lawn, sucking in air as the wind was knocked out of him.

Chaceledon slapped him across the face with the flat of the blade. “Don’t you ever try and choke me out again.” he growled darkly. He still had that distant look in his eyes. Weak boys. Spoiled boys. Boys Oor would take out of the running.

Fosse stood up shakily and offered a hand to Ataire. “Papa wasn’t kidding when he called you a master swordsman.” he said shakily. He still hadn’t dropped his own blade.

“Who’s Huron?” Ataire asked curiously, rubbing the rising welt on his face.

Blinking, Chaceledon looked at the pair of them like they’d popped out of the soil. He looked at the weapon in his hand, and bit his lip. “No one. Forget I said it. I’m sorry about the bit at the end there…I got carried away.”

“If I was afraid of a few slaps I’d have left this family years ago.” Ataire smiled weakly.
________________________________________

Klaus responded passionately and eagerly to being pulled into the kiss. He bit Aetes’ lower lip, heat gathering in his groin. Oh yes, what a perfect way to start mastery of this body. Once by friction, then he would sink into this body beneath him and make him pray to the heavens.

Strong hands closed around his wrists, and Klaus found himself on his back. Aetes’ knees brushed his thighs and Klaus was playfully avoiding being pinned. He slung one thigh up around Aetes’ hip, keeping them together. A wide grin broke across his features.

“I’ll give you six hundred guesses.” He purred. “But you’ve got until I finish…” he ground himself more insistently against the priest. His skin was flushed, and he felt his breathing quicken. Oh gods, the man above him was attractive. He’d have to peel that face off and take it with him. A whimper eked out of his throat. “Of course…you could always help.”

Klaus leaned up and kissed him again. “Please…”

Look at him, being so polite and pliant in bed! Of course, he was uglier in this body and he’d never forgive his son for that. He really should have turned out better; he’d picked a pretty girl and he was beautiful! So why did Rheinhard look so damn craggy? Even Aluid had been more delicate looking. Perhaps the muscular priest pinning him down liked it that way. “I’ll be good…” he reassured him.
 
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Seteta nodded wearily, and gave a small smile at the praise from Seikilos. She'd had magic teachers as strict as the dragon, and knew that any recognition of a job well done was earned.

"Thank you, sebav," Seteta murmured, her throat tired, and slipping habitually into the habits of her childhood by addressing Seikilos as teacher. As Seikilos continued, Seteta nodded. "I will come find Chaceledon with you," she agreed.

As they walked through the house together, Seteta rested her voice for a few minutes, then asked, "How long do intend for me to train? My family plans to join us in a couple of weeks, and I don't know if it would be best to send word for them to come here, or for them to continue on to Chaceledon's estate as we had originally planned. I will need their help for the Nameday."

They reached the back garden a moment later, and Seteta couldn't help but smile as she saw Chaceledon thoroughly drilling Fosse through a round of fencing. She frowned a moment later, though, as she heard him call Fosse Huron, and it quickly became clear that Chaceledon was... remembering another time.

"I apologize," she said to Seikilos. "He has... been through some hardships, while he was away."


Aetes growled into the kiss, equal parts frustration and arousal. He'd love it if Rheinhard was this enthusiastic, but the mannerisms were all wrong. Too... familiar with sex. Whoever this was, though, he at least seemed to enjoy the kisses, so Aetes worked that to his advantage, keeping the stranger distracted.

"Oh, you'll be good," Aetes purred, pulling back from the kiss for a moment and teasingly moving his hips against... not Rheinhard. He pressed both of the man's hands up over his head to grab his wrists with one hand, and slowly stroked back down his arm and down his chest. "I'll make sure of it."

Aetes leaned back down for another fierce kiss, and slammed his free hand through the floor of the tent and into the desert sand.

It exploded around them, tendrils of sand wrapping around not Rhienhard's wrists, arms, legs, and chest. Aetes yanked himself back as the man's legs were pulled off his hips.

"Who the fuck are you?" Aetes growled again, but this time it was not endearing. Though he still knelt between Rheinhard's legs, he towered over the human, and with his long, dark hair loose around his shoulders and his dark eyes glinting, he was not unattractive despite the circumstance, nor was he harmless.

And gods be damned, Aetes was not going to fuck Rheinhard's body if it wasn't Rheinhard in it. Not for the first time.
 
Seikilos pursed her lips. She couldn’t pretend to be content with the welts peppering her grandchildren, but at least Chaceledon hadn’t drawn blood. Moreover the dragon seemed aware enough to bow in contrition when he saw the look on Seikilos’ face.

“Clearly, your koiros needs you. I’ll have dinner sent up to your rooms. As for your family, I would ask them to redirect here; we will need to learn to sing together if you have a pebble’s chance.” Seikilos inclined her head toward Seteta, and cleared her throat. “Fosse, Ataire, go clean up and explain yourselves to your mit and miv. I really don’t want them taking their frustrations out on Chaceledon later, especially when you two were foolish enough to spar a member of Dahn Peridot.”

Fosse and Ataire sheepishly bowed, and scurried past their grandmother. They weren’t looking forward to the smart cheeks they were going to have in addition to their other bruises.

Chaceledon gathered the weapons and set them on a nearby bench, blinking wearily. Maybe having the Volkers gone was weighing on him. Perhaps it was seeing those bright blue eyes and orange hair that reminded him so much of Huron’s gentle spirit. He rubbed at his eyes.

________________________________________

Oh, and what a good boy this one was.

Klaus sank into the kisses. He was a passionate and fiery lover when he was so inclined, and punctuated his affections with his teeth on Aetes’ lips. Aetes gathered his wrists above his head, and the pair moved together. Yes…blissful friction was what he wanted, at least as an appetizer. He looked up at Aetes with eyes filled with want, brazenly grinding against the Inizae.

“I like what I’m feeling…how many times have you filled Rheinhard with this, hm? Does he squeal?” He hissed in Aetes’ ear, his tone light and teasing. “I could root around in his memories for you, find the moment you bury yourself inside of him and breed.”

He was swallowed up in another fierce kiss, and he was giving some serious thought to freeing his hands when magic blossomed under him. Klaus gave a cry of surprise as sand wrapped around his wrists, his arms, and pinned his legs and chest.

Though Aetes clearly wasn’t playing anymore, Klaus grinned at him. His face was flush with naked arousal, and the sudden attack hadn’t dampened his straining erection at all. “Finish me and I’ll tell you everything.” He purred, lifting his hips invitingly. “Touch me…”

Why the sand games? He hated earth magic! It was the one thing he couldn’t get away from and hadn’t figured out how to counteract. He’d make Aetes pay for it, but right now he needed to get him to let him go.
 
"Yes, sebav," Seteta answered. "I will send word for them to come here. Thank you for your time." She bowed low at the waist, then turned her attention to Chaceledon.

She went to stand with Chaceledon, lightly wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest.

"Are you all right, sehejib?"


"No," Aetes said, standing and stepping away. The sand bindings solidified into stone, as well as the sand underneath the tent. "Rheinhard is my lover, not any of you others. And he hasn't given consent for this to happen when he's not in control."

Aetes threw a tunic on over his leggings and tied his hair back with a strip of leather. "As for the rest... you'll be searching Rheinhard's memories for quite some time."

Aetes retrieved a knife from his own things--Rheinhard's tent at the edge if the camp had been closer to the healer's tent than Aetes own quarters by the spring--and retrieved the dead chuma.

"I'll be outside cleaning these," Aetes said with a smile. The back legs hadn't even been cut off. Rheinhard wasn't that sloppy, so whoever this was had taken over while he was still out hunting.

"I expect you to either tell me who you are when I return, or for Rheinhard to be back in control."

He made for the tent flap, then paused and turned back for a moment.

"It is your body, Rheinhard. Take it back. You're ties to it are stronger than his."

Then Aetes ducked outside and sat down on the sand to clean the chuma.
 
Chaceledon shook his head slightly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” he said softly. He supposed it had been the familiar environment; alone, teaching a lesson to boys barely out of preteen years. All that harshness and had come rushing back to him like he was back in Witherhold making sure the boys survived their first winters at war. “I’m not sure I should touch a sword for a while.”

He sighed and tilted her chin up to kiss her. “You look tired too. Seikilos isn’t known for going lightly on new musicians. I have a proposal. How about I pour you into a bath, fetch you a decent meal, and make love to you until we pass out?”

_______________________________________

Klaus dropped the act. His eyes narrowed viciously, two little burning coals of aquamarine searing at Aetes. “And how do you know he hasn’t? How do you know the little coward just isn’t ballsy enough to take it for himself?” He demanded. He blinked. So Rheinhard hadn’t…? What a blushing virgin! He had this spectacular piece of ass in front of him and hadn’t bothered to crack it open? Was Rheinhard really that cowardly?

A fit of giggles seized Klaus, maddening little laughter that would be eminently recognizable to some of the older Inizae in camp. “You haven’t even fucked him? Oh, so what have you been doing? Holding hands? Sweet little gazes? Gods he doesn’t deserve it back and I don’t think I’m going to give it to him!” He snapped mockingly after Aetes, but his smile faded when he realized that the priest intended to leave him here.

Wait.

Wait no.

Klaus pulled against the bonds. Instead of soft yielding sand, cold stone bit into his skin. Klaus could stand a lot of things. He’d been tortured, raped, hunted, imprisoned and court martialed. The restraints didn’t bother him half as much as the boredom of being left alone.

He barked his teeth at Aetes’ last remark. “It’s mine for now!” He roared after him, pulling and yanking. Despite the fact it would do precious little good, he fought the bonds like a tiger. Bruises appeared on his wrists and ankles. He bit at the stone on his arms, thrashed and screamed. He hated being left alone!

Klaus pulled and twisted at his wrists. Blood was flowing, and lubricating the stone. If he could just…there. The nice agonizing pop of his thumb dislocating, and his hand sliding wetly out of the stone manacle. He punched the stone slab angrily, popped his thumb back into position, and wrung out the burning sensation. One hand free, but still trapped above his head by the second manacle. Dammit, this one really had been dealing with Volkers!

By the time Aetes returned, Klaus had managed to get both hands free and, lacking anything better to do, had folded them behind his head. He waited for the priest with a glower. “I bring you breakfast and offer you Rheinhard’s cherry and this is how you repay me? I don’t regret lighting you people on fire.”
 
"Seikilos is preparing guest rooms for us, and said she'll have dinner sent up," Seteta said, switching back to Draconian because she didn't want a scolding from Nestor later. She stretched up to meet Chaceledon's kiss, keeping it soft so as not to aggravate her lip ring. Keket had said it would take 4 or 5 days for the initial healing, but to make sure to keep it clean for several more weeks after that.

"The lessons weren't so bad," she said as she nuzzled back into his chest. "But I'm essentially learning a new form of magic. It's still earth-based, but not how I've ever used it before. It's tiring, for now. I'll get stronger."

Then she smirked up at him. "But I think the rest of your proposal sounds perfect, especially if you're going to join me in the bath."


Aetes crouched down and the sand and quickly skinned and gutted the chuma, tossing the poisonous parts of the back legs into the fire. It gave off a foul, acrid smell as it burned but was harmless. The poison had to be ingested or injected to cause any harm.

He ignored not Rheinhard's whines from within the tent, but he couldn't ignore the giggles--eerie and far too familiar--sending chills down his spine and his gut tightening. He took slow, deep breaths as he spitted the chuma and arranged them around the fire to roast before ducking back inside the tent several minutes later.

Aetes sighed as he saw the blood smeared across the blankets and the hand restraints, and ignored the glowering stare.

Chaceledon said:
“I bring you breakfast and offer you Rheinhard’s cherry and this is how you repay me? I don’t regret lighting you people on fire.”
Click to expand...

"You brought the ingredients for breakfast," Aetes clarified. "And offered something that is not yours to give."

The priest retrieved the purified water, salve, and strips of bandages that were already on hand for tending to Rheinhard's other wounds, and sat cross-legged near not-Rheinhard's head, tugging a hand out. As he cleaned the man's wrists and bandaged them, he talked quietly.

"I've heard that laugh before. When I was a boy. I was... maybe ten or eleven years old. The man with that laugh slaughtered my parents. Most of the camp, really. Seteta's mitit--her mother's father--gave his life that night to buy time for several of the women and children to escape."

Aetes finished with the first wrist, then moved around to clean and bandage the second one.

"Now, will you behave?" he asked as he finished. "Or do I need to strap your neck down too?"
 
Chaceledon desperately wanted to deepen the kiss. He wanted nothing more than the solace of his fiancé’s sweet mouth, chasing away the dead men in the dark. He did say a silent prayer of thanks he’d mistaken the boy for Huron, and not someone like Klaus, or he’d have been borderline cruel. He shoved the thoughts away, his long arms winding around Seteta.

She was tired, and he could feel heat pouring off of her from the magic exertion. He rubbed her arms, letting her take her proffered spot against his chest. “I think we can manage that.” he kissed her hair. “I remember where the guest quarters are. Come with me.”

Their rooms were spacious, but not too overdone. The closet was generous, and sported full length mirrors that Chaceledon openly envied. A plush bed with deep ochre coloring called to them, but Chaceledon led Seteta toward the baths. He shed his clothes without care on the floor, something he was usually meticulous about, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

He stretched, his naked, pale form standing in stark contrast to the dark amethyst around him. He shook his hair free of pins and leather thongs, tossing his head like some arrogant show stallion. It was getting long, far past his rear and approaching the backs of his knees.

_________________________________________


“Not mine to give? Everything he has is mine to give.” Klaus snapped. He’d never forgiven the little shit for taking his position as the honored guard dog of the family, especially as Rheinhard seemed more gifted to mooching around acting like a wounded virgin than living up to the name. He twisted his head to look at Aetes upside down as he tended to his injured wrists. He made a game of it, tangling Aetes’ fingers in the gauze and trying to pull them within convenient biting-off range.

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I killed Seteta’s grandfather? Likely slowly, knowing me. Little wretch is screaming away in a mirror shard somewhere being disassembled like a wagon.” He snickered. “I guess I have a shard to show her when she shows up again.”

Klaus remembered that night. He’d been dropped into the desert on a scouting mission for slaves, but Oor and Persian had both been a bit drunk and hadn’t exactly been monitoring him. “I had money on some of those kids you know. I used some of Jess’ formulae to set them on fire and followed the fire trails in the sand. They made such pretty lights…” he smirked. “Is that why you’re sulking? Afraid I might get it into my head to go on a spree? You’re not helping your case keeping me tied up.”

Klaus pushed into the bonds, enough to slide a hand along Aetes’ thighs as he knelt to pay attention to the wounds on his other hand. “Well? You’ve caught me. What are you going to do with me?” A predatory smile.
 
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Seteta happily followed Chaceledon through the house, though every step deeper into it was drenched in magic and... almost an echo of memory.

As he stripped his clothes off for the bath, she watched appreciatively, and gently combed her fingers through his hair. Well... as much of it as she could reach.

"You should help me with this," she said as she circled around him, her fingers teasing lightly over his rib cage. "I don't know what you did with this oversized robe to keep me from tripping all over it."

Then she grimaced and swallowed a little uncomfortably. "My voice is tired," she pouted.


"She never knew him," Aetes said as he finished the last of the bandaging. "He died decades before she was born."

Aetes didn't comment on any of the rest. He remembered the burning children fleeing through the sands, remembered hearing Mesi pray for Abtatu's mercy for them, even as she and the surviving elders fled swiftly behind illusions.

"What am I going to do with you?" Aetes snorted softly. "I've told you that I would let you up once you gave me your name."

Aetes pressed his hand to the earth again and the tendrils of sand returned, winding around not Rheinhard's arms and pulling them up again, this time tying the man to the ground in several locations so he wouldn't be able to work his way free again.

Another thick tendril wrapped snuggly around his neck, tight but not restricting... yet.

"Now," Aetes said with a smirk and a dark gleam in his eye, "every time you speak and it's not your name, that band around your throat will tighten. It will only loosen when you give your name or when you give Rheinhard back control.

"And don't try to fool me. I'm a priest of Abtatu trained in soul work. I'll know if you're lying."

Aetes stood. "I'll go get breakfast and be right back. Don't waste your breath."

The chuma should be done roasting by now.
 
Chaceledon chuckled and turned to her, tilting her chin up to kiss her tired throat. “Then don’t speak.” he purred, sliding the robe off of her shoulder to kiss the skin there. He undressed her slowly, every inch worshipped and treasured. He dropped the robe to the ground, pulling her against his body. “Mmm…bath first.”

_____________________________________

Aetes really thought he could win this one didnt he? Klaus grinned up at the priest. He watched Aetes walk away, resting against the bonds. Maybe he liked being tied down. He was also sure that Aetes wouldn’t let Rheinhard choke; he seemed to have a weak spot for his son.

He licked his lips. He could sink into this fantasy. He could feel the air crackling around him, swelling with flame and screaming. Heat embraced his body again, and his erection burgeoned. He remembered tearing away clothing and chasing things shrieking for mercy into the dark.

“Breakfast hm?” He chuckled, feeling the sand hike up around his throat. “Do you really think-erk!” He grinned as his air was constricted, licking his lips. His hips squirmed against the ground. His back arched. Yes…just a bit more. “Aetes-“ he hissed, and his air was cut off entirely.

He closed his eyes and squirmed, restrained, his body getting hotter, air burning in his lungs. He groaned, going lax against the ground. Perfect. That had been perfect.
 
Aetes didn't want to know what was going on in not Rheinhard's head at that moment, which was part of the reason he chose to walk away.

He listened carefully, though, as he gathered the chuma from the fire. He was certain that the man wouldn't be able to resist, and he was right.

Aetes set the chuma on a platter, retrieved some chopsticks, and stepped back into the tent.

Not Rheinhard was relaxed, for a change, and Aetes kept one eye on him as he settled on the ground next to him again.

If it was Rheinhard, Aetes would have relieved the pressure on his neck right away, allowing him to gasp for breath and fill his lungs.

But this one... Aetes would force him out of control even if he had to suffocate him to do it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice slightly taunting, then tore a leg off the chuma and made sure that not Rheinhard could hear him chewing it.
 
Surely the man wouldn’t let him choke out? He glared at Aetes. Two could play this game. He closed his eyes, and shoved Rheinhard back into control. His eyes shot open, widening. He struggled madly against the bonds, his mouth opening in a soundless cry. He had no air in his lungs! He couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t even claw at his throat!

Your boyfriend doesn’t play very well with others.

Blind panic assaulted Rheinhard’s senses. He thrashed. Klaus had left him in this! He was desperately trying to suck in air, kicking wildly. He needed air! What the hell had Klaus done? He hadn’t killed anyone had he? He could smell blood and fire, and he was strapped down.
 
Aetes sighed and dropped his food. He'd hoped to make not Rheinhard lose consciousness and bring his lover back more gently, but he'd known there was a chance of this too.

A palm pressed to the earth, and the bonds restricting Rheinhard's breath and movement crumbled back into sand.

"Breathe, Rheinhard," he spoke. "Slow and steady. I'm sorry I had to do that. You're all right, I promise."

He didn't move to touch him yet. Rheinhard was spooked, and he didn't want to startle him further.
 
Rheinhard sucked in air the moment the bonds slithered into sand at his throat. He turned on his side, coughing and pulling in breath after breath. His wrists hurt and his throat aches, and he could feel his ribs protesting. Panic was still at the forefront but for an entirely different reason. Klaus was awake. Chaceledon wasn’t here to placate him and Seteta was far enough away that her grip on the Well had slipped.

Either that, or it was destabilizing. Neither option was good. He’d experienced it before, when Oor had tested the distance of their bond, and had been vaguely aware that was the reason that Oor always made an excuse to be within at least a towns’ distance of him.

The burning hed smelled earlier was a mere campfire, as evidenced by the chuma Aetes was eating. Klaus clearly hadn’t gotten loose. He rubbed at his neck, but was also faintly aware his pants were wet. Of course. He’d forgotten Klaus’ masochism. Choking him wouldn’t have been considered anything but flirting.

Rheinhard felt disgusting, but even more…everyone around him was in danger. “Have to…go.” He coughed, struggling up onto his feet drunkenly. “Can’t…let Klaus out..”

He reached for them. Aron was awake and the headache beginning at the back of his skull meant he was attempting damage control. Rheinhard said a silent thanks to the drunkard for distracting Klaus; the two hated one another.

He leaned against the tent pole, catching his breath. Gods, embarrassment washed over him. He knew what Klaus was like. He sank to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest to hide the mess in his pants, and tried to get his heart to calm down.

Hopefully, the revelation that Seteta had taken the Well would throw Klaus off his game, however briefly. He rubbed at his face. “I’m sorry. I just went out to get you breakfast.” His voice was small and guilty.

If there was one thing he’d wanted to control around the Inizae, it was his outbursts concerning the Well.
 
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Aetes waited silently as Rheinhard stumbled to his feet and leaned against the tent pole, waiting for him to calm down.

Klaus. So that was his name. Likely... Rheinhard's father?

When the man sank back to the ground and rubbed his face, Aetes stood and came to sit next to him, though he didn't reach out to touch him yet.

"It's not your fault," Aetes said gently when Rheinhard apologized. "So far as I can tell, he came straight here and didn't venture into the camp. No one was hurt."

His gaze fell back to Rheinhard's wrists.

"Well... no one except you."

Cautiously, so as not to spook the man, Aetes reached over and gently stroked his fingers against the back of Rheinhard's hand.

"May I help you clean up? You haven't eaten yet, either."

As he waited for Rheinhard's answer, the priest was thinking furiously. They needed a way, somehow, to be able to tell when it wasn't Rheinhard in control. Quickly, with just a glance... he needed to talk with Rehema, soon.
 
Rheinhard gently took Aetes’ hand in his own. He knew he’d probably scared the man. Dealing with this sort of thing wasn’t easy, and Aetes wouldn’t be the first or last man who went through the steep learning curve of loving his family. He took in a shuddering breath, and looked back at Aetes. “I will need to wash. Try not…try not to choke him. He enjoys that.” He desperately missed streams and lakes nearby. The desert was beautiful but the lack of easy bathing was a drawback.

He felt better after cleaning himself, tending to his wrists, and sitting down in Aetes’ tent for a (now lukewarm) breakfast of chuma. He ate silently, looking up at Aetes occasionally. Where to begin? Well…he supposed much like Persian and countless others had been educated on safely dealing with Klaus.

“Klaus Volker is my father, and one of the few to have the Well since birth. Babies aren’t built to survive that. He…he can be reasoned with, but with strength. Not arrogance. Cower in front of him once and he’ll make it his life’s mission to destroy you. I am sorry for whatever he said. He does not like me…I replaced him.” Rheinhard explained quietly. “But he is quiet for now. Were we going to begin my education today?”

Klaus had a lot to catch up on. Hopefully worming through everything that had happened since being put to sleep in Vel Anir would keep him distracted. At least for now. Volker could feel him squirming around. From the feel of it, likely pulling down shards.
 
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