Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Chaceledon frowned, giving Seteta a peculiar look. She had known? All this time she had known he was a bastard? That he even looked like his father? He gently pulled his fingers out of hers, taking her hands and meeting her eyes. “You knew?” He asked. “Whether…whether Peridot swore you to secrecy or not, you should have told me! Why didn’t she send me to live with the Hedoni? She knew what her husband was like…”

He dropped his gaze, shaking his head. “I guess familial ties don’t matter now. I’m as much a member of Dahn Hedoni as I am of Dahn Peridot. I don’t have a mother or brother anymore, much less a father living or dead.”

Chaceledon kissed the back of her hands. “I couldn’t anymore. They would have just left you on that stage bleeding. They are so misguided they cared more about the appearance of you falling than they did about your well-being. And the way I saw them react to your performance…” he sighed. “Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing.”

_____________________

Rheinhard didn’t answer the question at first. He rose and pulled the pot off of the fire, offering Aetes his bowl by setting it at the man’s feet. He set the pot into the earth, where the insulating sand would keep it warm, and sat back down next to the fire.

“I’m fine. It has been a long road to come back here.” He said uneasily, fiddling with his hands. “I was not sure if you ever wanted to see me again…or if I was welcome…after what happened last time.” He looked up at Aetes. He wanted to embrace him, and invite the priest to curl up in bed with him. It was so dark and private away from the other tents.

“I am owned by Ausar now, not Seteta. Her soul was wounded; it was safer for me to be with him.” He said softly. “Chaceledon has been banished from dragon society. He cannot approach any estate, ever. For better or for worse he is among your people now.”
 
"Sehejib," Seteta sighed, craning up to nuzzle her nose against his. "I have suspected since we first arrived at Hedoni. But it was only confirmed moments before I had to give my performance at the Nameday. I did not have a chance to say anything before now, regardless of your mother."

She reached up and smoothed her fingers over his brow.

"I am sorry they chose their traditions over you," she whispered, her voice sorrowful. "And... well... I wouldn't be so sure that Cassius will turn his back on you.

"As for your mother... she must have loved Saltarello deeply. You were all she had of him. She likely wanted to keep you as close as she could because of that."

Not with Baylock at his side. He might wait a while, and do so discreetly, but Seteta would be stunned if he didn't reach out.

And she would make certain that he somehow got a wedding invitation.

"I, for one," she continued a little guiltily, "am glad Hokkaido is not actually your father, though. He's awful."


Aetes took the bowl and scooped up some soup from the pot. He carefully sipped at the hot broth as Rheinhard spoke.

He had... so many questions, and was trying to figure out which ones to ask now, and which to save for later. He didn't really care much about whether Chaceledon was with them or with the dragons, so long as Seteta was content.

"Ausar will not consider himself your owner," Aetes said quietly. "More like... your guardian?"

He picked the meat out with his fingers, chewing it slowly to gather his thoughts a little more.

"It wasn't your fault," Aetes said after he slurped the last of the broth and vegetables from the bowl. "Why would you not be welcome back?"

Aetes shifted, turning to face Rheinhard, and watching the firelight play over his face as the sun dropped lower and bathed the sky in darkness.

"I... was afraid you might be dead," Aetes whispered.

Aetes stood, reached down and latched his hand around Rheinhard's wrist, and tugged him to his feet.

"I missed you," he murmured, slipping his hand around the back of Rheinhard's neck. Aetes tugged him closer, and pressed his mouth to Rheinhard's.
 
Chaceledon leaned in and kissed her. He touched her cheek, settling his forehead against hers. “It doesn’t matter. It was her choice, and now when it comes out she’ll have to face the consequences. I wish it wasn’t like that; my father is a monster and I don’t blame her for running to the arms of another.” He said softly. “That’s all over now. The most important thing is you and I. We can do as we please now. I can do my blacksmithing, you can commune with the earth.”

The dragon smiled and kissed her again. “It’s a great burden off my soul.”

______________________________

Rheinhard stared at him. “Because I bathed the camp in blood! I frightened many of your countrymen. I emerged as someone thirty years younger from a dead age! I am surprised you don’t believe me cursed by your god the same way I’m cursed by mine.” He settled back. Aetes had feared he was dead?

“I was afraid you would never speak to me again…” Rheinhard said, unable to keep a tremulous tone out of his voice. Then Aetes touched him, and his pulse raced. He stood, watching the priest with a mixture of anxiety and desire. “I missed you..”

The hand around his neck calmed his blood. Fear melted away, and he wrapped his arms around Aetes. He met his kiss gladly, his eyes fluttering closed. He opened his lips, his tongue grazing along Aetes’ closed ones.

“Stay with me tonight…” he whispered.
 
Seteta smiled and met his kiss with equal enthusiasm, then moaned and carefully lowered her head to the pillow.

"I want you," she whined. "But I also want everything to stop spinning randomly."

Hawthorn had been right about the concussion, and Seteta was finding it superbly annoying, especially as she'd already been recovering from everything else for weeks prior.

She huffed and buried her head into Chaceledon's chest.

"I've missed you," she whispered. "We've been so busy the last several weeks that it feels like we've hardly had any time together."

In some ways, she missed the early days of their courtship. When there was nothing to take their attention away from each other except traveling each day. Maybe... they could have a little bit of time like that again.


"It wasn't your fault," Aetes said again, firmly, against Rheinhard's lips. He shuddered as the man's arms tightened around him and his tongue teased at his lips.

Aetes gladly opened his mouth to him, let Rheinhard taste him as deeply as he desired, and when they parted, Aetes' expression was dazed.

"Are you sure?" Aetes whispered, kissing Rheinhard's nose. "If I do, I am not going to let you sleep for a very long time."

Aetes slid his ring-laden fingers up Rheinhard's neck and along his jaw, watching muscles twitch and ripple under his touch. They'd been interrupted last time. They needed to make up for it.
 
Chaceledon smiled down at her, and raked his fingers through her hair. He was tender, and gentle with her scalp considering what a strong hit to the skull she’d taken. He desperately wanted to braid it, or wash it. She deserved the world, and it hurt him that the days of orange blossom hair oil and long baths were behind them.

“Let’s see the world. You, me and Rheinhard. Aetes if we can steal him away. It’s what you set out to do before all this.” Chaceledon laid down next to her, smiling and resting his head on her chest. It soothed him to hear her heartbeat. “Remember what it was like? All we had was that stupid cart and those fat little ponies, wandering around. All we had to worry about was where we wanted to go and what to do.”

He kissed her breastbone, the scarred portion where Rheinhard’s seal had once lain. “For now, just get enough rest so I can make love to you without worrying. We have all the time in the world, my koiros. All the time in the world..”

_____________________________

Rheinhard pulled Aetes in closer by his hips. He wanted more and more contact with him, more of his touch. Their tongues tangled and played, consumed in one another. When they pulled apart Rheinhard was flushed, breathing a little harder than he might have. Gods, the relief flooding him was palpable.

“I don’t need to sleep.” He muttered, leaning into Aetes’ cool fingers heavy with rings. He angled his head into the priest’s hand like a cat, nuzzling Aetes’ fingers along his cheekbone. He lifted his head slightly, curling his tongue around his index finger and pulling it into his mouth. He looked up at Aetes, tongue cradling the digit in his mouth.
 
Seteta smoothed her hands down Chaceledon's chest, lingering over his heart. His heartbeat was as soothing to her as hers was to him.

Would there really be time to travel? When she'd just been Seteta, there was. But now she knew she was Nailah reborn, and the weight of unfinished business from ages past was crippling if she let herself think of it.

"If we want to take Aetes, then we'll have to wait until after my parents' baby is born," she murmured, shivering as his lips touched her breastbone. "My mother was forced into bed rest, remember? Aetes has to take care if her duties for the time being."

He was so warm, and she tugged at his robes.

"I want your skin against mine, even if we can't do anything else. I want to touch you."

Seteta gently pushed him aside and sat up. "Help me out of mine," she whined, tugging at her own robe, wriggling as she worked the hem up to her hips.

She turned her gaze on him, heated and mischievous despite her exhaustion. "Shall I tell you all the things I want to do with you when I'm well?" she purred.


"That's good," Aetes crooned, pressing his finger against Rheinhard's tongue with a grin. "Are you that hungry for me? Don't worry, I'll leave you sated tonight."

Aetes slid his hand down to fondle Rheinhard's ass for a moment, then stepped back to bank the fire. He handed Rheinhard the bowl so he could clean it.

When they were finished, Aetes stepped toward the tent, holding out a hand to Rheinhard.

"Come, meruv," he ordered, his voice low and gaze possessive. "We're both far too overdressed."
 
Chaceledon woke still curled up in the dragon glass bowl, yawning. He lifted his hands, pawing for the cowlick on the back of his head, and hissed. Stitches. The prickle of shaved skin. Right. He winced, probing at the cuts. Several thousand years under a wraith’s thumb and he’d managed to keep that beautiful mane intact, only to be undone by his own family.

He kissed Seteta’s shoulder but didn’t wake her, slowly rising. His ribs hurt and his body felt as though tiny Volker children had come at him with hammers. He pulled the drab robe the Aptuvi had given him, sighing. Browns. Gods knew he loved a good earth tone but this? Homespun, and hardly the season for it? Well…he needn’t be concerned with fashion trends any longer, did he? He pulled the robe closer, tears welling up in his eyes.

Chaceledon walked out into the morning sun to warm himself. He didn’t dare change. Not this close to Harrier’s territory and dragon lands. He saw smoke in the far distance. His estate. They were razing his estate to the ground. The stones would be flung into the sea, and another building erected in its wake.

Their belongings at Hedoni would be similarly burned; everyone had known they’d taken shelter there. The only thing he wasn’t quite sure of was Tianau’s weapon. He hoped Seikilos had the good sense to have it delivered to the temple…quietly.

There was more movement on the sands, careful little skitterings of rogues in the distance. Dragon glass harvesters, from Pedeo and the deep sands. They’d be looking for molten gold, bits of gemstone, and harvesting the glass from the Dragonfire blasting the estate.

Gods, it was like it’s own little ecosystem wasn’t it? A great predator had fallen; now the rats and jackals slunk in to claim the remains. Slavers looking for survivors. Aspiring lapidaries hoping for a secret cache. Mercenaries feeding off the first two.

Chaceledon sighed. He wandered the camp, helping light the cookfires. They were about a day out from the oasis. Hopefully his father’s grace didn’t run out; he was in no condition to fight.

He was just getting up the courage to help saddle up the camels when he spotted them. Four men, on horseback, riding at an easy clip toward them. Chaceledon frowned, weighing just how much it would hurt to fly with his body so bruised. The two men in front had necks entirely encircled by purple scales, some of it crawling up their jawlines and across their shoulders. They wore armor to show it off, deliberately shunning pauldrons and wearing chest plates that began where the scales ended.

Two men had stars and a compass on their headscarves. His father’s men. The other two had scarves woven to resemble banded agate. His mother’s men. To show him there was no question about his status. They were heavily armed as well; two in the back sported long piles and the frontmen wicked looking scimitars.

“Hedahn. You and your whore’s family will leave this land. There is nothing to linger here for; your servants and pets are dead. Dahna Peridot destroyed your egg this morning. We’ve been sent to escort you to the borders.” One of them said stiffly, in draconian.

Chaceledon glared at them. His mother’s banner man reached into his pack, and threw something at his feet. Chaceledon bent, and picked up the silvery shell. It was a fragment, a little larger than his hand, stippled with bumpy texture and sandy white on one side, silver on the smooth inner curve.

“My fiancé is sleeping-“

“Common! You’re not a dragon any longer.”

Chaceledon took a measured inhale. “My fiancé is sleeping. When she wakes, we’ll move.” He growled.
 
Ausar and Supti kept a close eye on Chaceledon and the horizon. All of the Inizae had felt the magic pouring out of the tent overnight, and Ausar had easily recognized it for what it was. His own work was quite similar, after all. Seteta would sleep for quite some time yet.

Ausar frowned when he noticed Chaceledon's gaze fixed on the smoke, far off in the distance. His own lands, then. What he had given up to stay at his daughter's side.

Supti sent out the warning before Chaceledon even saw the riders. It was silent, and the Inizae continued on about their morning. They would be breaking camp to travel for the day soon, anyway, and rushing a caravan into departure was not an easy task.

Chaceledon said:
“My fiancé is sleeping-“

“Common! You’re not a dragon any longer.”

Chaceledon took a measured inhale. “My fiancé is sleeping. When she wakes, we’ll move.” He growled.
Click to expand...

Supti stepped up, and came to stand between Chaceledon and the guards. He was silent, his gaze shifting between the four of them as he took stock of their armor and weapons.

Ausar came up next to Chaceledon, patting his shoulder. "They're just men, right?" he asked quietly, in the tribe's dialect.

"We are a caravan," Supti told the men. "We are here by right of the desert trade laws, and we are leaving shortly. There is no need of an escort.

"You should warn your masters, though. If they interfere with our caravans simply because of one dragon, you will all soon find it very difficult to obtain the spices and silks you covet."
 
Just men?

Chaceledon hesitated. It was a complex answer. Dragons rarely did their own fighting; they hired massive armies of mercenaries that often turned into private armies over decades. Each child inherited a portion of the army once they married, giving them two halves of a whole much like the two captains in front of them. One had come from Dahn Agata, the other from Dahn Astra. Both had the full authority of Dahn Peridot behind them.

“They’re here as representatives of my mother and father.” He replied just as quietly. “Not just pets. Their grandfathers probably guarded my egg as I slept.”

The men looked at Supti with pinched expressions, not quite sure how to take his bold declaration. It occurred to Chaceledon that they likely hadn’t been in battle for a very long time; Hokkaido and Peridot weren’t at war with anyone and most tiffs had been resolved with more underhanded means than sending their private armies to war.

“What we mean is, you are far too close to draconian estates for Dahn Peridot’s liking. You’ll move. Immediately. As elves you have no rights here. Out in the deep desert with the rest of the trash, perhaps.” The purple-scaled man sneered.

“We will ride with you as far as the oasis. On the other side is the border. Then we will consider it closed.” The captain from Dahn Agata offered. “You do not need our escort, but we have our orders. A hedahn, much less a bastard, is offensive so close to his grieving mother.”

Chaceledon turned over the eggshell piece in his fingers. “…She mourns me?” He asked quietly.

“A mystery to all but her, I’m sure.” The Astran captain snorted.
“It may not matter soon. Adultery is as unholy as rutting with animals.” The Agatan captain added. “Come, we will help you pack. The sooner you are packed…” he added with an eye toward his partner. “…the sooner you can leave.”

Chaceledon looked down at his feet. “What harm can it do?” He mumbled.
 
Ausar chuckled. "I meant are they regular humans," he clarified. It seemed that they were. "However, it was likely not their grandfathers who guarded your egg, but... several more generations back than that."

Supti saw that the guards were taken aback, but scowled at their answer.

"The sands rule all out here, dragon, elf, and human alike," Supti countered. "And the sands have granted us passage.

"We cannot stop you from traveling the same path, and if you... insist on helping, you can help with the tents. But you will not lay a hand on any of the Inizae, our livestock, or our wares or possessions. Nor will you force us to move faster than is safe for our animals or elderly."

Supti fixed them with a gaze that promised more trouble than they would like if they did not comply.

"Do you understand?"

"Of course she mourns you," Ausar said comfortingly, patting Chaceledon's shoulder, though he frowned at the guard's mention of adultery. It had not escaped him that Hokkaido and Chaceledon looked... nothing alike. Or that there was very little similarity between Cassius and Chaceledon, either.


In the tent, Nebit and Anai were waking Seteta. Anai had no doubt that Supti would be able restrain the guards, but Seteta needed plenty of time to dress and eat.

Both women made startled exclamations at the.... dragonglass bowl, and Anai couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Seteta curled up in it with the blankets.

Neither were surprised that Seteta was completely bare beneath those blankets, and she did nothing more than smile and blush as they roused her, though when they explained what was happening outside, her mouth set into a grim line. She let them help her dress and comb her hair, all of them stepping out onto the sand a few moments later, watching the men from a short distance away.
 
“I was told you were religious zealots. Seems that warning was well-deserved. You’ll move as fast as we deem necessary.” The Astran captain bristled. “There are gods among the sands and they breathe fire.”

“Let’s not turn this into a crusade?” The Agatan captain gave Supti a tight lipped smile. “You’ll have us to help you break down tents. No touching your belongings or livestock.”

The Astran captain looked beyond them as Seteta stepped out onto the sands, and spat in distaste. “You can dirty yourself working for the mammals.” He snapped to the other captain. The three men moved forward to help start breaking down the camp, while the Astran captain stood and watched their mounts.

Chaceledon gave Ausar a grateful look, and hurried to Seteta. He kissed her forehead. “I didn’t want to wake you…” he said worriedly. “My…Dahn Peridot’s men are here to escort us away from dragon owned lands. I’m being rude preventing my mother grieving my existence.” He added sardonically.

He watched the Agatan captain worriedly. He would have almost preferred he take the hard stand his compatriot had, and just refused to help at all. Instead, he seemed unbothered by following directions, and treated the tents ready to be broken down respectfully. The attitude between the two dahns toward the Inizae were night and day, and it saddened Chaceledon. If his father hadn’t been so hateful, perhaps things could have been different.
 
Supti gave the mouthy guard a deprecating look, but otherwise ignored him, focusing instead on the guard who actually... seemed courteous. Supti gave him a curt smile, and directed him and the other two guards to his foreman. Ausar and Supti both left to tend to other parts of the caravan.

Seteta slipped her arms around Chaceledon's waist and leaned into his chest. "It's likely Hokkaido, not her," she said. "Have you eaten yet?"

Nebit led them to the nearest campfire. Skewers of meat sizzled over the coals, and a large pot of spiced tea simmered steamed into the cool morning air.

Nebit ladled out tea for them into two wooden cups, adding a generous splash of camel's milk to both to cool it down to a drinkable temperature.

Seteta took her cup with a smile, sipping the warming drink with a sigh. It was sweetened with date syrup, and the spicy creaminess of the tea always made her feel like she was wrapped in warm blankets.

She plucked up a couple skewers and offered one to Chaceledon, then found a seat around the fire, carefully selecting a spot that looked away from his former estate.

"When do you want to have our wedding?" she asked before nibbling at the hot meat.
 
Chaceledon was grateful for Seteta’s presence. He returned her embrace gratefully, kissing the top of her head as she leaned into his chest. Gods, he really was dreadfully hungry. Between the magic yesterday, watching the smoke and his parent’s forced escort he hadn’t felt the chance to just…breathe. He followed her to the campfire and sat next to her. He put one ankle behind the other and folded himself gracefully onto the sand.

He took a cup of tea. Well..,dairy. Gods he hadn’t had milk or cream of any sort in years. He sipped it without complaint, letting the sweetness of the syrup tame the bite of the tea. The skewers he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. He set his cup on the sand and grabbed a handful, blowing flames into it and flattening it with his fingers to create a rough little breakfast plate. He set three skewers on it once he made sure there weren’t any loose sand grains, and daintily pulled off each chunk with his claws.

Chaceledon looked up at Seteta in surprise. “I…” he started helplessly. He had so many plans before. He’d wanted his entire estate, now ashes, decked out for them. He’d wanted to invite his friends, Persian included. Hell he’d wanted to reserve the Indica for a reception. Gods, his hair! He reached up to touch his scalp self-consciously. He hadn’t even spoken to his sister yet. There was no way to draft invitations; he couldn’t pay a scribe! The robes he’d worked on were no doubt up in smoke. All his material gone. His little toiletries box, even.

Chaceledon put down his plate and burst into tears.
 
She was utterly shocked when he burst into tears, and Seteta quickly set her cup down, balancing her meat skewer across the brim.

"Chaceledon..." she sighed, reaching for his hand. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you."

Gods... she'd hoped to distract him by starting to plan for their future.

Instead, she'd clearly reminded him of everything he'd just lost.

"Tell me, sehejib," she murmured quietly, reaching up to brush away his tears with her sleeve. They were hot, tiny puffs of steam wafting off his face in their wake.
 
Chaceledon sniffled, grasping Seteta’s hand so she didn’t burn herself. “Your sleeve…” he mumbled, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, I just…look at me! I look like a shaved cat. I lost your robes, your ring. I can’t even afford catering, and I can actually eat it now. I wanted my mother and brother there, and I had this lovely vision of you as a Dahna, honeymooning in the Indica and going to explore the world…” He sobbed, dabbing at his eyes. “I don’t even have perfume…” he hiccuped.

Chaceledon took a shaky breath, and a sip of his tea. “I’ve been dreaming of this day since I attended my cousin’s wedding. I had a planner with swatches!” He wailed, breaking down all over again.

It took him a few minutes to recover, fanning a hand in front of his eyes and dabbing at them with his sleeve. “I know it seems silly…and I would do it again in a heartbeat, but look at me! My clothes are a combination napkin and handkerchief…” he whimpered at her.

He curled up next to her, trying to calm himself. “Just…a little time?” He asked. “I…I need to do something for you. I can’t just get married like this.”

The Agatan captain walked by, clearing his throat. He looked around briefly, ensuring the others were occupied, and set a small silk bundle between Chaceledon and Seteta. “Dahna Peridot told me to give you this. Don’t say a word.” He muttered quickly, grabbed some of the tenting and swiftly returned to work.

Chaceledon blinked at the little bundle, and pushed it toward Seteta. “Open it for me?” He asked.

Inside was a small book, his size book. A tiny compressed palate of kohl, a little bar of soap in wax paper, and a little tin of lotion. On top of it was a small note, with a small glass tiger lily tied to it.

Once, I neglected to make the decision you just did. I will miss you, my Chess.
- Peridot
 
Seteta bit the inside of her lip. Chaceledon was distressed, and she didn't want to seem like she was mocking him, but so much of what he worried about was fixable. Temporary.

"Your hair will grow back, sehejib," she murmured, reaching up to stroke his brow gently. "You can make me new robes, and I have the most important ring right here."

She held up her left hand, the opal engagement ring shimmering in the sunlight. She rarely took it off, only when it might get damaged.

"My tribe has lived off what the desert provides for as long as you've been alive," she smiled, bringing his hand up to kiss his palm. "It may not be the food you're used to, but there will be plenty of it.

"We will plan our own honeymoon, and see the world. We will get you new perfume, and new clothes," she promised. "These things are only temporary until we reach the temple."

Cassius would still be invited to their wedding. Baylock too, especially if they had it at the temple. There would be plenty of cool, clear water for her within the spring. Peridot would still be invited, if Seteta could figure out how to manage it.

"You have already done something for me," she murmured, kissing his temple as he settled next to her. "You chose me, over everything else."

Seteta looked up in surprise as the guard cleared his throat. Her toes curled into the sand, ready to restrain him if he tried to harm Chaceledon.

She sighed with relief when he just set a tiny bundle down and walked away.

Chaceledon said:
Chaceledon blinked at the little bundle, and pushed it toward Seteta. “Open it for me?” He asked.
Click to expand...

She nodded and quickly unwrapped the bundle, making a quiet exclamation of surprise at the delicate glass flower, and handing the note to Chaceledon.

She remembered the story Chaceledon had told her, all those months ago now, of the challenger who had failed to win Peridot's hand.

"She understands," Seteta murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

She let him have a few minutes, and then said, "You're not poor, you know. You still have the funds in Pedeo. The ones Persian confiscated from Oor. And the Lion House."
 
Chaceledon smiled softly at the sight of the ring and took her hand, kissing her palm. “Opal is very pretty, but it’ll scratch and shatter. And it breaks apart in water; there’s a reason it’s a desert stone. I wanted to make you something you would wear every day without worrying.” He said, smiling. He thought of the egg fragment in his pocket. The strong, silvery shell that could withstand the heat of a dragon’s nest. Perhaps he already had his solution.

“I thought you hated the Lion House. We can always keep it, but we’d have to start living there. It would do wonders for politics but I know you’d despise it after a week.” Chaceledon murmured. “There’s also Witherhold, but the Autumn Court owns that. They’re probably wondering where he is if he hasn’t returned. We really do need to visit them and sort that.”

He watched her open the bundle, reading the note with his teeth shredding his lower lip. So she did understand. He blinked away tears, not wanting to go to pieces for a third time that morning, and sorted through it. He gasped at the little book and pulled it free of the cosmetics. “My size book!” Chaceledon exclaimed, hugging it to his chest for a moment. He smiled at Seteta, and opened it. “Measured myself every week. My mother started it for me when I hatched. See! That’s how long I was as a baby. And how much I weighed.” He pointed at the first entries.
 
Seteta wrinkled her nose. "It's not the Lion House I hate," she said. "It's Pedeo. And besides, we can live anywhere in the desert. A tent, a cave... I could raise a house for us out of the sand, even."

She shuddered slightly when he mentioned Witherhold, but nodded. "Whether we live there or not, we need to go back there," she murmured. "Especially for the Volkers."

She smiled he found the book, glad to see him happy about something, even if the mention of the size book made her breath hitch worriedly.

"Every week?" she said, shaking her head as she ran her finger over the list of numbers that... meant little to her. "That seems excessive."

She gave a genuine smile when he pointed out the measurements from his birth, though. "Can you show me?" she asked. "Draw it out on the sand?"

She needed to know about dragon babies, after all.
 
Chaceledon nodded sagely. It seemed as though there would be things they never agreed on. He loved Pedeo, and she would always despise it. He understood why; it severed her connection to the earth and was full of inhospitable metal. Not to mention the generational trauma of her people being enslaved there. “We’ll keep it then, for now.” He reassured her. “But the moment we find a better home, we live there. I love your pragmatism my darling, but I simply cannot bear a house without a solar.”

He was all too thrilled to show her his size. “Dragon eggs are…well…this one was mine.” He withdrew the shard and offered it to her. “A half inch thick, more like steel than eggshell. When dragonlings are born they’re…oh, looks like I was about four feet long. It sounds big but I was coiled up like a rope in there. Babies melt their way out. They can’t turn into humans until a year or so out.” He drew with his claws in the sand, depicting the four foot long, narrow little rope he’d been.

He flipped the page with a fond sigh. “My mother had such a slim waist. I had 10 centimeter wrists for such a long time. Like bird legs.” He drew out a small circle. “Could wear any of my mothers bracelets.”
 
Seteta gave him a bemused smile. She did not know what a  solar was, but Chaceledon was clearly not understanding the scope of her powers yet.

If he could draw it for her, she could make it from the sands and stones. She was certain of that.

She gasped quietly when he handed her the shard of eggshell. It was incredibly heavy for its size, and she ran her fingers over it reverently.

How will it work? she wondered. How will an elf and a dragon create a child together? How will that child live?

She swallowed thickly, then shook those thoughts out if her head for now. Every indication so far showed that Aptuv approved of their match. Her god would make it possible.

Chaceledon was drawing in the sand, and she leaned forward eagerly, listening as he described it. Her hand unconsciously settled over her belly. A hatchling was not so large, then, that it would not fit in her womb.

But when he drew a circle to show her the size his wrists had been, she gasped and looked up at him in horror.

"Not even a newborn's wrists are that small! How did your wrists not snap when you moved?!"
 
Chaceledon watched her. She put a hand over her belly, looking at the drawing. She had her mind on children, in forging a life with him. Chaceledon was hesitant; not so much of her goals. They wanted the same things. But how much heartbreak could they both endure? Dragons had difficulty conceiving and it would be even more difficult with it being a half blood. Who knew how it would turn out? What temperatures would it need?

He smiled at her gasp of horror, and composed himself a bit more neatly. He tucked each leg under his rear, folded one over the other, and folded his hands in his lap. He may have been the perfect picture of draconian grace, but his face sported a wide grin. “Presentation.” He chuckled. “We’re taught from very young ages how to conduct ourselves. Seen and not heard. I believe Dahna Agata, my grandmother, said that children should be gentle whispers of fire, urban legends among the servants. Always composed, always quiet. Like pretty little ghosts. Of course, I took that seriously and wore far too much white at my age.”

He relaxed the pose, and flipped a few pages of the book. “See? Cheeks, neck, shoulders, upper and forearms, wrists, fingers. Then rib cage, bust, stomach, waist, hips, thighs, knees, calves, ankles and toes. There’s a chart here of what you should be measuring as a boy or girl, then what recommended is. A recipe for the tablets we use. It’s um…the concept doesn’t translate well into Aptuvi, but it prizes restraint, and beauty, above all else.” He smiled at her and shut the book. “Are you ready? The soldiers are going to get impatient.”

In a few hours they were on the road, dutifully flanked by the soldiers. Chaceledon kept half an eye on them, but they were simply doing as they were told. He was curled up with Seteta on the back of their camel, resting.

Reaching the oasis was a calm, if drudging affair. Chaceledon dismounted a bit impatiently and gathered Seteta into his arms, declaring them both in need of a bath. The soldiers watered their horses, relaxing in the shade. As far as they were concerned their job was over.

Chaceledon felt well enough to shift and glide into the water. He looked more like a snake than ever; he was missing his mane and the tuft on his scales.
 
Seteta shuddered. "Among the Inizae," she teased him, "if children are silent it means they're getting into something they shouldn't be into."

She nervously gnawed at her breakfast skewer again as he flipped through the book and pointed out various things. Gods, she was not going to let him measure their children except when they needed new clothes. Of course, he would consider that weekly at the very least... but they would have to find a compromise. Their children were not going to grow up obsessing over their bodies.

"Living is beauty," she told him, yanking the last bit of meat from her skewer with her teeth and grinning widely. "And restraint is all well and good, but starvation is not. When the desert gives us abundance, we indulge, and when it lies fallow, we rest with it and conserve our food stores."

She quickly gulped down her tea and nodded. "I'm ready," she said, stretching and holding out her hand for him.

The journey to the edge of dragon lands was, thankfully, uneventful. The soldiers gave them no trouble, and neither did the desert. When they reached the oasis, she giggled as Chaceledon hauled her to the spring but happily stripped off her robe and jumped into the cool water.

She smiled to see him shift, though she fought off a wave of sadness at his missing mane. As he glided into the water, she took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface to follow him. She ran her fingers along his sparkling scales until she reached his face, kissing his nose before she went back up for air.

It was a cool day, as winter in the deep desert tended to be, but the sun was bright and despite the underlying sadness of Chaceledon being made hedahn, she was content.
 
Chaceledon tucked his book away, and ate his breakfast skewers slowly. It was probably the highest calorie meal he’d eaten in a while, but gods it tasted good. He nibbled carefully around bits of fat, and tossed those into the fire. Normally he’d have tossed them to Rheinhard, as the man enjoyed snapping tidbits out of the air, but…his son was at the temple. Gods, he hoped he was alright.

He was grateful to be moving again.

Being in the waters of the oasis felt good. He cheekily snaked out his tongue to kiss Seteta back, ignoring the glares of the soldiers. He came up for air, wiggling his little ears to get the water out of them. He turned over in the water, running his paws over the itchy, dull skin that had once sprouted his mane. It would take several sheds to get back to normal again, if it ever did. He wound through the water like a snake, using his powerful tail to move, and bounded up onto shore.

Indulging in a bit of silliness, he bounded forward and flapped his forearms to his sides, half burying himself in a skid. Chaceledon laid there, sunbathing, until the soldiers took their leave. They would separate from the larger caravan as well. Supti would come with them, as his wife had been one of the ones in Rheinhard’s group, as would Ausar. Chaceledon was loathe to leave the sparkling waters, but eager to get back to his son.

However, their journey toward the temple wasn’t to be as peaceful as the one that preceded it. A few hours from the oasis, Chaceledon spotted them. A heavily armed caravan, mostly camels, but what concerned him were the ground troops. Hounds. Three of them. He didn’t see Gaal anywhere in sight, but his handiwork was skittering around, with that horrid raspy breathing around the metal rings through their noses and mouths.

He did breathe a little sigh of relief when he saw the canvas coated man sitting on top of the front most camel. “It’s Persian! Headed the same way we are. We ought to go greet him.” Chaceledon insisted to Supti.

It seemed Persian had already spotted them. He lifted his hand in greeting.
 
Seteta happily curled up next to Chaceledon on the sand, basking in the sunlight with him. The winter sunlight was gentle and warm on her bare skin, and she dozed lightly while a quick lunch was prepared.

It was good to just... exist again for a little while, without having to make decisions or worry about imminent plans.

When they were traveling again, she happily snuggled back up with Chaceledon on their camel. They were nearly a dozen in number again. Only a few of the Inizae who had helped with the Nameday chose to go elsewhere other than the temple.

She frowned when Chaceledon pointed out Persian's caravan. She knew there was unfinished business--a lot of it--with the slaver, but she'd been hoping for a little more time of reprieve.

After catching sight of Supti's scowl, though, she couldn't help but bite back a laugh, sharing a bemused grin with Anai.

"We will cross paths soon enough," Supti told Chaceledon gruffly. "There's no need to rush it."

Persian wouldn't be able to quickly redirect his entire caravan anyway.

"I'll play envoy," Ausar laughed, slowing his camel and hopping off before handing off the reins to Supti. He knew Supti despised dealing with Pedeon's.

Ausar walked leisurely across the sand, offering a nod of greeting to Persian when he was near enough to be speak.

"We're still a couple days out from the temple," he told Persian. "But we'll reach the border of the temple lands midday tomorrow. Your caravan will have to wait there. Aptuv only gave permission for you to enter the last time."
 
Chaceledon frowned at Supti. “You know, we’re close to negotiating peace with the man. Be polite.” He sniffed. He could understand the Inizae plight, but Persian was doing his best as far as Chaceledon could see. Besides, he was feeling a bit adrift…seeing an old friend could be just the thing.

He nodded gratefully to Ausar, and kissed Seteta. “I’ll be right back love.” He stopped their camel and awkwardly clambered down, holding his ribs as he pulled himself oddly. Right. Still not at his best. He leaned on the beast for a moment, then drew back with his nose wrinkled. “Ergh, why didn’t we wash you at the oasis!” He grimaced at the camel, who ignored him.

Persian tugged down a bandana covering his nose and mouth, shoving a pair of smoked lenses up his forehead. He whistled sharply to the Hounds, who redistributed themselves among the caravan instead of on the outskirts. “Ausar! And Chaceledon, is that you? Good gods, man.” He tapped his head, and Chaceledon pulled a face.

“We’ll be fine waiting at the border. I have a few Aptuvi with me who want to return to their people. I haven’t cut their collars yet; they’ve said they want to see the place for themselves. Three scribes and a veteran of the Ring of Teeth.” Persian told them. “Shall I leave them with you or escort them in?”

“Why the Hounds?” Chaceledon asked.

“A trade. Gaal didn’t have any Krynians in his collection. It’s proving to be quite the profitable change; I should have done it decades ago.” Persian chuckled. “And, unlike the Aptuvi, they don’t come pre-neutered!”

The dragon wasn’t quite sure how to take that particular comment. “Will you be alright on supplies?”

“Of course, we brought tents and water. We’ll be fine.” Persian waved them off. “Let’s travel together shall we?” He signaled to the caravan, which turned slightly to bring them on a collision course with Supti’s.
 
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