Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Supti snorted at Chaceledon. "It is unlikely peace will be forged so easily after a dozen millennia of enslavement. Politeness and manners mean little when they only hide rottenness and not sincerity."

Seteta did her best to stabilize Chaceledon as he dismounted from the camel, and couldn't help but giggle as he bemoaned the camel's scent. "You'll have to get used to the way animals smell naturally, sehejib."

"They will wait at the border with the caravan until Aetes can come to greet them," Ausar answered Persian. "You have been granted entrance as a guest. If they are coming as potential tribe members, there are things they must know before they enter the temple grounds.

"In the meantime, they are welcome to mingle with our group and learn about their culture."

Ausar's face turned stony, though, when Persian mentioned the Krynians, and he let Chaceledon take the lead in the conversation, quietly slipping away from the group and returning to the other Inizae.

Supti grimaced as Persian's entourage shifted course, but signaled his own camels to speed up, taking the lead toward the temple.
 
Chaceledon stayed with Persian’s group as they shifted course, needing to stretch his legs. Persian offered him a hand up to hop up onto his camel, but Chaceledon shook his head. He’d had enough of dirty animals for the moment. “Any news from the Courts?” He asked. “Gods, I miss the social season. It’s been ages since I got to go to a party or dance…”

“Well, as a property owner in Pedeo you know you’d be welcomed to the Summer Court. The gryphon racing season is fast approaching, and I know Seteta would enjoy it.” Persian mentioned, voice slightly muffled behind the kerchief. “The Winter Court is less peaceful. Queen Mab is a tyrant and Lord Meier is doing everything he can to unseat her. It’s made a bit worse by the fact he’s a lord in two courts and King Iren refuses to do anything.”

“That’s going to end in blood.” Chaceledon said worriedly. “What does that mean for us? We’re expected to go to the Autumn Court to sort out my…ex husband’s affairs.”

“Well…” Persian sighed. “I’d just stay out of any political tangles. One of them will die, and Mab has been too apathetic these past years. In my opinion we’d best be getting used to hearing the name King Meier. King Iren will understand your position. At the moment I’m less worried about court policy than…well..” he gestured. Chaceledon followed his hand to Supti speeding up. Clearly to put some distance between the joined caravans.

“Give it time. I know you’re a good man.” Chaceledon encouraged. “They’re as complex as the fae, in many ways.”

“Makes me miss the Floimish; all swearing and drinking.” Persian chuckled. “Collaring them was an interesting affair. I don’t think I’ve had my testicles threatened in quite so many interesting ways before. The Krynids are similar. If they’re not fighting the guards they’re assaulting other pets.”

“Your fault for tangling with two of the more hot blooded human cultures. Be thankful it’s not the Suwannese; they’d have your pet houses taken apart in a day.” Chaceledon smirked.

Persian winced. “No thank you. The Suwannese and I have an understanding. I don’t cross the Graveyard of the Caravels and they don’t blow whatever ships I have to kingdom come. Gods! They are not even open to negotiation. At least the Aptuvi want to talk; the last terms I sent Suwannee came back soaked in urine, stuffed inside a coconut, lit on fire, and thrown at my emissary. Didn’t you have a Volker from that dreadful little island?”

Chaceledon laughed. For the first time in days he felt…anchored. A little more normal. His bond with Seteta was stronger than ever and gossiping with Persian felt good. “I did! He’s from Petyrhead. Student of the Meteor Hammer. God forbid he’s awake when we get there.” He laughed with the fae, walking with him until the two caravans merged. The Hounds stayed on the outskirts, but they did dart in occasionally to sniff at the Aptuvi, or weave between a camel’s legs.

Persian left Chaceledon with his fiancé, and sped up to catch Supti alone. “Thank you for your hospitality. I am truly grateful to have caught you before the border.” Persian mentioned.
 
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The Hounds made the Inizae nervous, but they didn't lash out at them. Some of the camels spooked, but all of their riders were experienced enough to keep them from bolting.

Seteta dismounted from hers to walk with her father for a while. He told her what Persian had said abut Krynid, and she told him what she knew about the Hounds. How she'd had to listen, helplessly, from a distance as Gaal enslaved an entire village early in her relationship with Chaceledon.

When Chaceledon rejoined them, she contentedly looped her arm through his, and enjoyed quietly visiting with her betrothed and her father for the rest of the afternoon. It was obvious her strength was returning, though she did climb back up on the camel after a couple hours walking.

Supti eyed Persian, just grunting in response. Anai kept a close eye on the fae from nearby.

"No thanks necessary," Supti answered. "All but you would have been barred entry to the temple grounds anyway.

"Keep your creatures under control, though." He nodded toward the Hounds. "Our camels smell the foul magic on them and they don't like it."

There were no more oases between here and the temple, so they would camp for the night wherever they were at when dusk arrived.
 
“Not much can be done about that, I’m afraid.” Persian smiled apologetically at Supti. “They’re partially lobotomized and made by the wraith himself. They’re curious about things they’ve not smelled before, is all.” He whistled sharply behind them, and the Hounds spread out a bit more, surrounding the caravan rather than weaving between them. They still craned their heads toward the Aptuvi, inhaling and rattling the metal in their heads.

Persian traveled next to Supti silently, though he knew the Aptuvi would have rather traveled alone. He had to put a slight amount of pressure on them, or he’d never make any progress.

The Aptuvi pets were an odd group. The scribes were making notes, and making tentative forays into the group. They were adequate with the language, though clearly not native. The gladiator seemed uninterested in mingling, and kept her distance. Her heavy iron collar was decorated with strings of ivory beads made from her fallen opponents. It was well known to them that Persian was attempting to reintegrate the Aptuvi he couldn’t sell; it made business sense. He wouldn’t have to feed them and it was a diplomatic plus.

Still, it clearly wasn’t entirely voluntary.

Camping was a tense affair. Chaceledon invited Persian to camp next to himself and Seteta. The guards preferred to sit on the outskirts, ringing the camp and settling in quietly. The pets didn’t seem to know where to put themselves, and Persian didn’t seem to be giving them any direction. The Hounds poked about in camp, until Persian staked them out by their nose rings near his tent.
 
Seteta huffed slightly as she sat down at the campfire. Dinner was roasted chuma and dried dates, which she was fine with, since Supti hadn't wanted to deplete his main caravan of too many supplies. Nor did any of the Inizae want to accept anything from Persian's foodstuffs.

But her grumpiness wasn't about the food. It was with Chaceledon inviting Persian to sleep right next to their tent.

It was as if he wanted Persian as a lover again!

Ausar stuck a skewer with half a chuma on it, steaming and dripping with juices, into the sand in front of her then handed her a bowl of dates.

"Careful, bit," Ausar chuckled, using his thumb to smooth the worry lines between her eyes. "You'll turn the flames to stone with that glare."

Seteta scowled up at her father, then flinched and moaned, pressing her hand to the side of her head where it had smacked the stage. It wasn't bothering her too badly, all things considered, but she was realizing that she'd come very close to overdoing it today.

Ausar frowned and turned to Chaceledon. "Make sure my daughter actually sleeps tonight, please?"

Seteta's cheeks colored slightly and she tore off a chuma foreleg from the skewer, viciously ripping the meat off with her teeth. She burrowed her bare toes in the sand and started very, very slowly pulling the sand out from under Persian's tent floor, dispersing it behind the tent so no one would see.

Ausar's eyes sparkled with mirth as he stepped away.
 
Chaceledon spent the evening helping Persian and Seteta put up their tents. He was famished by the time they settled down to eat, and watched Seteta tear into her meat with gusto. He laughed as Ausar ribbed him about her sleeping, and patted Seteta’s knee. “No promises.” He said playfully, leaning over to kiss her shoulder.

He ate his dates without complaint, though he was much more delicate than Seteta when it came to his chuma. He ate in delicate little slices, poked on the end of his claws, and hummed as he chewed. The only thing that would make this better would be Rheinhard resting with them. He smiled at Seteta and showed her his empty date bowl, popping another bit of chuma in his mouth.

A throat cleared behind him and he looked up to see one of Persian’s servants. “The Chief Engineer would like to invite you for evening tea. He’s brought a table.” The man said lightly.

Chaceledon’s smile broadened and he set his skewer across his empty bowl. “I’ll be back in the evening love. You rest.” He said lightly, sprang up on his feet, and followed the pet. He was delighted to find that Persian hadn’t shed all of his creature comforts. There was a rug, a decently sized round bed with pillows, and an incense burner. Persian was settled at a low, small table roughly the size of a large book, washing hot water from a teapot over the wood.

“Ah, Chaceledon! Join me, please. I thought you could use something other than barbecued meat.” Persian chuckled, and poured the water over the decanter for their tea leaves. Chaceledon inhaled and smelled orange peel, black tea leaves, sweetness and jasmine. He sighed happily and settled across from Persian.

“We should invite Seteta.” He mentioned.

“I wanted to speak with you first.” Persian mentioned, offering Chaceledon his cup with a tap of his fingers. Chaceledon took the cup, rotated it, and poured the first steeping out over the wood. “There are other rumors coming from the Autumn Court that speak of a great leader rising in the sands…and I’ve done some investigating. It seems they know of your Aptuvi Queen well.”

Chaceledon smiled and took his second steep, sipping it. “Tell me.”
 
Seteta gave Chaceledon a proud grin when he showed off his empty bowl and moved on to eating his chuma. She was resting easier knowing he was eating well.

She stiffened when the servant approached them from behind, scowling as Chaceledon eagerly rose.

Back in the evening? It was already evening! She huffed and twisted away from Chaceledon.

Ausar straightened in his seat across the fire and raised a brow as Chaceledon strode into Persian's tent. He thought that the dragon had been oblivious, but perhaps not. He was the last person that would scold someone for... partaking from more than one person, but Seteta did not seem to have consented and he doubted she ever would if the other party was Persian.

Ausar gathered up the remainder of his dinner and went back to sit with Seteta.

"Do I need to interfere?" he asked quietly.

"Not yet," she scowled, staring daggers into the fire again.

She focused in her magic once more, and began funneling the sand she was misplacing into Persian's bed--between every layer of sheets and blankets, and even in the pillowcases.
 
Persian and Chaceledon talked long into the night. They started the conversation seriously, discussing Seteta and the future of the sands. “I think she’ll be a good queen. She’s smart.” Chaceledon smiled into his cup. “She wants children, though. Hopefully soon.”

“Children? I suppose it makes sense. You were created by the same god. I suppose it is up to him.” Persian raised an eyebrow and exchanged their tea cups for glass tumblers, pouring Chaceledon and himself a few fingers of whiskey.

“Oh, I cannot wait for children with her! With her intelligence…and hair.” Chaceledon snickered, and took a sip. A soft moan rolled from his throat at the taste. “Gods… the Winter Court.” He downed his glass, feeling the hot smoke of the liquor warm his belly.

“To your fiancé, the reincarnation of the Sand Sea Savior.” Persian raised his glass with a smirk. “And to peace across the sands between slaver and elf alike.”

“To Seteta and peace.” Chaceledon smiled and clinked his glass against Persian’s. The liquor flowed easily down his throat.

Soon, the pair were laughing. Chaceledon’s loud peals tore the air, followed by Persian’s deep chuckle.

“You horrible cheat!” Persian laughed, grabbing Chaceledon round the neck with the crook of his arm. “You’re hiding an ace!”

“Amph mnot!” Chaceledon squealed, wiggling in Persian’s grasp as the man fished around his robes drunkenly.

“Ah-HA! Can’t fool a fae!” Persian released him and triumphantly help up the ace. Chaceledon giggled and folded his hand, pushing a mile of makeshift glass pebbles at his opponent.

“Here.” Persian poured him another cup, and refilled his own. “Right one more hand and no cheating!”

By the time Chaceledon finished his last glass and stumbled into Seteta’s tent, it was nearly two in the morning.

Chaceledon curled up in their bedding, giving her a very boozy kiss on the forehead, and promptly passed out.
 
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It was not Seteta's forehead Chaceledon kissed before he passed out in drunken oblivion.

It was Ausar's.

And when Chaceledon woke in the morning, he would find himself snuggled against Ausar's bare chest, the man's eyes boring into him like smouldering coals about to burst into flame.


Seteta was only in their tent long enough to retrieve the few clothing items she had. Then she went to her grandmother's tent and crawled into Nebit's arms, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks.

Nebit held her close, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair. She sang quiet lullabies until Seteta finally slipped into sleep, face tense with pain from both her heart and her head.


Persian would find going to bed... difficult. All around his bed were holes of varying depth: anything from ankle deep to thigh deep, hidden beneath the rug or a thin layer of sand crusted over the top that shattered when he stepped on it. And of course... the bed filled with sand.


In the morning, the Inizae rose before dawn. Ausar, obviously, stayed behind but the rest--including Supti, Anai, Nebit, and Seteta--quietly packed up their tents, mounted their camels, and headed toward the temple lands.
 
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Chaceledon woke with a groan, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Dear gods. Did Seteta get a new blanket? It was so uncomfortable to lay his cheek on, not at all the soft coffee skin and breasts he expected. He hadn’t been this hungover in years. Not since Oor. He didn’t regret it at all, however. Oh gods, they’d be moving soon. He forced his eyelids apart…and stared right into Ausar’s glaring face.

Chaceledon blinked and stumbled out of bed, grabbing the tent pole and rubbing at his eyes. “Dear gods I thought you were Seteta! I must’ve went to the wrong tent…” he swallowed thickly. Water. He pawed around for a jug.

Persian hadn’t had the best night either. He’d stepped in one of Seteta’s traps and sank one leg up to his crotch in sand. A bit too drunk to actually haul himself out, he’d just squirmed around and flopped whatever bits of himself on the bed he could manage. Morning came rather forcefully and he pushed himself up off the end of the bed with his arms. Sand? Why was there sand on his cheek? He brushed it away and looked down at his leg.

Oh. Right.

Persian struggled out of the hole. His caravan had watched the others move off, but they wouldn’t move without their Chief Engineer. Thankfully this meant fresh clothing and water were waiting for him. He changed, drank deeply from a water jug, and rubbed at his eyes. He eyed the empty whiskey bottle on its side by the tea table. So much for catching up with an old friend.

“My lord?” His pet poked his head in. “An Inizae tent has been left behind as well.”

“Well I suppose we better start getting packed…” Persian grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. “I forgot how much liquor that man can hold.”

“Yes, sir.”
 
"Oh, you most definitely did," Ausar growled, kicking the water jug out of Chaceledon's reach as he rose up from the blankets. "But this tent was the right one."

Ausar continued to glare at Chaceledon, disappointment etched across his face, and the tiniest amount of disgust shadowing his eyes.

"You will break down this tent and pack everything up. Then come find me when you are sober enough to hear of the sins you committed last night."

Ausar shrugged his tunic back on and swept out of the tent. A single camel had been left behind for him and Chaceledon to use, and Chaceledon would not be riding it.

Ausar helped fix breakfast, and helped Persian's people tend to their own animals and pack up again. Persian, though, he roundly ignored.

They had made a mockery of Seteta last night, both in word and action. The slaver and the dragon would both pay.
 
Chaceledon made a noise as the jug was kicked away from him, and sat down on the sand. Break down the tent? He could barely stand! He grabbed the water jug and uncorked it, drinking deeply. He splashed just a bit on his face, blinking. Oh gods, his kingdom for a bath! He groaned and laid back down for a moment. Sins? What sins? He’d had a drink with a good friend to celebrate his engagement. He’d needed to be away from both Inizae and dragons.

He stumbled outside with a muttered curse, looking around. No tents. No Seteta. What in…? Persian looked equally confused, but slightly perkier than Chaceledon given he’d had breakfast. He trudged over to the dragon with a bowl in hand.

“Here. A little bit of soaked oats and dried fruit.” Persian offered it to him, and Chaceledon ate slowly. It tasted like gravel but having something in his belly felt better.

“What did we do last night? The Inizae are angry at us. Ausar is furious…and Seteta isn’t here.” Chaceledon whispered. “Gods, did she have a relapse? Was I not there?”

“We drank a bit too much whiskey, and you cheated at cards.” Persian chuckled, then winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If she did I’d assume her father would have gone with her.”

“He’s asked me to pack up the tent…” Chaceledon looked back at it.

“Suppose we’d both better get started. If you’re still struggling I’ll have the staff help you.” Persian patted his shoulder, and moved off to help direct his pets.

Chaceledon did his best, but he was extremely slow at breaking down the tents. He had to take frequent breaks due to the hang over, so much so that Persian’s pets were nearly finished when he was halfway through. They silently moved to help him, and when everything was said and done Chaceledon went to find Ausar.

“Ausar…? What sins..? I just had a bit too much to drink with Persian. Where is Seteta? She didn’t relapse last night did she?” He asked worriedly.
 
Ausar waited with the camel for Chaceledon to finish, frowning deeply as he accepted help from Persian's pets, but made no move to intervene. If Chaceledon was truly an idiot then Ausar had no qualms letting the dragon dig his own grave.

When Chaceledon finally finished and approached him, Ausar crossed his arms and scowled.

"What sins?" he repeated slowly. "Just a bit too much to drink?"

His eyes raked over Chaceledon's form.

"You're pretty enough, especially before your hair was shorn, that I could understand why my daughter fell for you," he continued. "But after last night I am confused as to her affections.

"We'll start with the first sin: among the Aptuvi, when you explicitly invite someone who is not a blood relation to set up their tent next to yours, you are initiating a sexual relationship with them.

"I would have cut you some slack on that if you hadn't made the situation worse as the hours went on."

Ausar's nostrils flared and he shifted his gaze to Persian's caravan for a second before returning to Chaceledon.

"Because you went into his tent. And got drunk. You loudly discussed matters about my daughter which are  private, and issues about the Inizae that you know  nothing of.

"Any treaty or alliance or  peace--" Ausar spat into the sand here "--that might happen between the Inizae and Persian are not your concern. Nor is it within your authority or expertise to discuss--especially with Persian."

Ausar's pulse could be seen throbbing in his neck, and he drew close to Chaceledon, staring up into his face with cold anger.

"My daughter has risked her very life for you, more than once. She has placed her  health at risk to honor the barbaric traditions of your family. She is still weak and injured, and last night you abandoned her to have a drink.

"Where she is now and whether she has relapsed or not is not your concern. You know where she was going, and that is enough for now.

"You, Chaceledon of no dahn and no people, are not worthy of my daughter, whether or not she is destined to be a queen. You should think long and hard about whether you are willing to do what you must to become worthy."

Ausar turned and placed the last pieces of the tent on the camel, then swing up into its saddle, looking at Chaceledon once more.

"She has gone out of her way to honor your traditions. It is time for you to do the same."

Ausar urged the camel to its feet.

"You can walk or you can ride with Persian's caravan. But know your choice may have repercussions you cannot yet comprehend."
 
Chaceledon couldn’t have looked more surprised if Ausar had punched him in the face. How was he to know? He had offered Persian the spot next to their tent in the spirit of companionship. He saw nothing wrong with hoping. He was proud of Seteta. He was proud of the woman she was becoming. Was even speaking of peace, drinking and hoping for it, barred?

“I did not abandon her.” Chaceledon snarled. “She was stable, Ausar. Tired, and injured just like I am, but out of danger. She was eating, and talking. If she were still bedridden I could understand. I just had a drink with a man who I haven’t seen in weeks, and who I enjoy the company of!”

He stood, shocked, as Ausar went to mount his camel. Now he was expected to walk? Without food or water? He glanced over at Persian’s. The man was rubbing his face, mounting his camel and waiting for Chaceledon.

Fine. If he had to walk it wasn’t going to be alone. He stood next to Persian with a sigh. “It’s a punishment. They think I’ve somehow negotiated on the behalf of the Inizae with you. And that I…abandoned her to have a drink.” He said softly.

“Want a ride?” Persian asked.

“I can’t take it.” Chaceledon sighed. “For being vastly different people from the dragons in many ways they’re the same. But I wouldnt mind your company?”

“Gladly. Perhaps we should introduce them to the fae concept of hope. Speak what you wish to be into the world, and it will come.” Persian quoted, gesturing vaguely as they began to walk. “Is Seteta alright?”

“He wouldn’t say.”

“How very draconian of him.” Persian chuckled. “Is she angry with you?”

Chaceledon folded his arms, sighing as they began their walk. “Apparently by inviting you to camp next to us, I was saying I wanted to sleep with you.” He muttered.

“Ah, yes, that would be a problem. Especially given that we have slept together before. I really wouldn’t worry. It’s a new culture for you. Remember how many faux pas you committed in my city? In the Summer Court? I was mortified.” Persian laughed.

“May the gods smite me for not kissing people and wearing white.” Chaceledon smirked, and sighed heavily. “You’re right. She can’t be too angry with me, right? She knows me. I don’t have eyes for anyone but her.”

Persian nodded, and the pair traveled silently toward the temple together.
 
"She crawled into her grandmother's tent weeping, Chaceledon," Ausar said quietly. "She was under the impression that the two of you would be retiring together. You told her you would be back, and she waited by the fire until it was clear that the two of you were drunk out of your minds.

"You may both be injured, but her injuries were caused by your expectations of her: expectations she did not want to disappoint. You should have stayed at her side until she was well. But you chose drunkenness instead. So while you may not think you abandoned her, she felt very much abandoned."

Ausar turned away, and guided the camel to the front of the caravan. He was angry, and disappointed that Chaceledon did not seem to be as enthusiastic about learning her culture and respecting her family as he had requested of her.

She had knelt for his family, simply to make them feel superior. He hadn't even apologized, just made excuses.

And now he was laughing with Persian. Chaceledon was either cruel or an idiot, Ausar decided. Maybe both.


Seteta and the others were nearly half a day ahead of Ausar and Chaceledon, so by the time Persian's caravan was barely on the road, they were arriving at the borders of the temple land.

Aetes, Rheinhard, Kahi, Keket, and Hassani were waiting there for them.

Keket hollered and whooped, waving to Seteta, who managed a slight smile as she dismounted from the camel.

Supti and Anai greeted Kahi warmly, welcoming her into their arms with soft kisses.

Keket darted over and enveloped Seteta in a hug. "I missed you," Keket told her. "But... where is Chaceledon?"

Seteta returned Keket's hug, and huffed at the question.

"He decided Persian De Soto's company is more desirable than mine," Seteta said stiffly, then turned to Aetes and Rheinhard, brow arching at the rather gnarly bite wound in Aetes' neck. "I see things are well between you two at least," she said, a genuine smile teasing at her lips. "How is mut?"

"She is resting," Aetes smiled. "But the healer absolutely forbid her from coming out to meet you."
 
Rheinhard hung back, waiting for the mass of people to finish their greetings before he stepped forward and touched noses with Seteta. He frowned, pulling back and studying her. His face was doubtful; he knew just how rowdy Persian could get, and how close his friendship with Chaceledon was.

“You know there is nothing more important to Chaceledon than you.” Rheinhard told her. “You know that.”

_______________________

Hours passed, and Chaceledon reached the edge of the temple lands. He hesitated, rubbing his arm. He didn’t feel as though he’d done anything wrong. He waited as Persian helped coordinate his camp at the edge of the temple lands, then he and the slaver would proceed through.

Chaceledon was worried for Seteta more than anything. He walked down the dunes toward the camp, arms folded across his chest. He chewed his lips. Rheinhard had no such hesitancy; his son ran up the dunes to him and touched noses with him. “I had missed you.” Rheinhard mumbled, pressing his forehead to Chaceledon’s as he bent down to embrace him.
 
Seteta smiled softly as Rheinhard brushed his nose to hers, and leaned her forehead into his for just a moment. Mit had said Rheinhard was fine whenever she asked, but she still wasn't used to not... feeling him. Perhaps it was because the Well had been transferred so abruptly.

"Well he has strange ways of showing it," she murmured, ducking her head as Rheinhard scrutinized her face. She wasn't trying to get Rheinhard to influence Chaceledon, and it would be impossible to hide her tear-strained eyes if he looked too closely.

"Anai can tell you what happened," she said. "I don't feel like thinking about it again right now.

"How was the journey from Hedoni?"


Ausar walked ahead of Persian and Chaceledon. He did smile when Rheinhard ran out to greet his mother. Even if he was doubting Chaceledon's suitability as Seteta's future husband, he couldn't deny that Rheinhard and the dragon shared an unbreakable bond.

He crested the last dune between them and the camp, and frowned when he didn't see Seteta.

His mother was helping tend the fire and Ausar strode over to wrap her in a hug, then take over her task. Nebit patted his cheek and sat down to rest.

"Where's Seteta?" he asked as he stoked the fire and added wood.

"Resting in my tent," Nebit answered. "She has a headache. Keket is watching over her."

Ausar sighed and frowned. He knew she'd barely slept. None od the Inizae had, with the clatter Persian and Chaceledon had made through the night.
 
Rheinhard ducked his head with her and touched her cheek with his forehead and nose, comforting her and pulling her into his strong embrace. “It is unlikely Persian and Chaceledon will ever stop being friends. I know he has missed some parts of his…old normal.” He murmured. He straightened with her, dropping the subject.

“The journey was peaceful. We encountered slavers with Krynian and Floimish peoples heading toward Pedeo. Persian is redirecting his markets. The change pleases them.” He noted. “A male and female are here. The female is strong, the male is sickly. I will hunt when they leave. He will not survive, and I have a mate to provide for. “

He looked back at Aetes, fondly.

_______________________

Chaceledon squeezed Rheinhard tightly. “I love you. All of you.” He kissed his cheek. “How have they been getting along?”

“Tianau has been shown his place. Nestor and Ferenzi once again reign. They still scuffle for first.” Rheinhard muttered. “Ausar has not been here to mitigate.”

“You boys and your pecking order.” Chaceledon clicked his tongue disapprovingly, and patted Rheinhard’s shoulders. He grimaced, and pulled back a bit. “Sweetling…you really need to learn the benefit of a bath after sex.”

Rheinhard huffed at him, embarrassed. “Seteta is resting. Her head hurts. She is in that tent there.” He pointed. “But she is still angry with you.”

“Young marital spats, what would the world do without them?” Persian broke in with a tight lipped smile, and Rheinhard eyed him. “I’m here with the body of Amphetrion. I need to speak with your mate; I assume he’s still in charge?”

Rheinhard nodded, and jerked his head for Persian to follow him. He’d lead the man to Aetes.
 
Seteta almost choked. "Ah... Rheinhard?" She cleared her throat. "Hunting is forbidden on temple grounds... and you might want to make certain of Aetes... tastes before you bring anything back.

"Also..." She gave a bemused smile. "As a priest, he gets a stipend from the temple. You don't need to worry about providing basic necessities. Just... figure out the things he likes and enjoys."

Gods, this could... be a disaster.


Aetes was enjoying a surprisingly leisurely afternoon. He, Rheinhard, and the others had arrived the night before and set up camp. The border guards had sent word the day before about the caravan's imminent arrival.

Aptuv had told him to learn to enjoy the present, right before Rheinhard had shown up with Seteta at the hot spring. He... wasn't sure if this was what Aptuv had meant, but Aetes was trying not to overthink it.

And Aetes was definitely enjoying it.

He was seated near the fire, tossing a handful if sand around and winding his magic through it when Rheinhard led Persian over.

Aetes sighed and stood to greet the slaver and gestured for him to take the seat next to him.

"Rehema told me to expect you," Aetes said.
 
Rheinhard had already decided he didn’t like the Hounds so close, but he understood Persian’s meaning. They were sensitive to magic, and vibrations from being blind. They could detect if the Aptuvi decided to drown the lot of them in sand. It wouldn’t be a lot of warning, a few seconds at best, but something was better than nothing.

He led Persian to Aetes, watching his mate play with sand near the fire. His arms and shoulders were peppered in bites, with his neck having worst of it. Alongside the bite to the side of his neck, a sizeable horse-shoe shaped bite was healing on the scruff. Rheinhard was very mouthy in bed. Persian raised an eyebrow at the state of him.

“Yes, I suppose so. I have the Amphetrion’s body. I didn’t particularly want to drag it along the sands in this heat…he’s in a small pocket dimension.” Persian explained, settling next to Aetes. Rheinhard sat across the fire from them…in easy knife throwing distance. “However, you know that’s not the only reason I came.”

Chaceledon tried to make his way to Nebit’s tent. He didn’t want to disturb her rest, but he wanted to be near her. If she truly had felt abandoned he felt worse staying away from her.
 
Aetes ignored Persian's perusal of him. He had no shame in wearing Rheinhard's marks, though the healer had given them both a stern talking and slathered him in some salve that smelled foul and yet was oddly soothing.

"I can think of reasons as numerous as the sands as to why you've come," Aetes answered Persian. "Although the more immediate one is likely the three Aptuvi you brought, correct?"

Aetes gaze drifted toward the distant sight of the caravan just outside the temple lands.

"Your... hounds," Aetes said, hoping he had remembered correctly from what Supti told him earlier, "should not cross into the temple lands. Aptuv will not permit them in their current state. Ever."

If they attempted to cross, Aptuv would end their suffering.



Ausar frowned when he saw Chaceledon sneaking toward Nebit's tent. Rheinhard must have told him where to find Seteta.

He sent a short pulse of magic through the earth to warn Keket, but otherwise made no move to interfere yet.

If he gave Keket any issues, though, or Aptuv forbid he awakened Seteta, Ausar would bodily throw him out of the camp.
 
“I think the body is a more immediate concern. The three Aptuvi are released into your care when they make the decision; they wear collars until then. They insisted they be given the chance to talk to the people they would be joining. They don’t have to make a commitment now, but it’s in my best interest to liquidate my stock.” Persian said with a shrug. “There are other opportunities afoot.”

He nodded simply at the mention of the Hounds. “I had suspected, as wraith touched men. I was planning to leave them with the caravan at the edge of your lands; it’s not too terrible a walk. The Aptuvi and three guardsmen I must insist on, however. And…abiding by old rules.”

Persian reached into his coat and brought out a steel muzzle, dangling from two fingers. It was a strong cage over the latter half of a man’s face, reinforced with rivets and padded in leather. He offered it to Rheinhard, who took it without complaint. “Thank you. My people are a tad nervous given your reputation.” Persian told him politely. “Head down please.”

Rheinhard pressed the muzzle to his face, into the little divet on the bridge of his nose from constant use. It fit him well, and was padded in leather. Persian buckled it behind his skull, and he heard the familiar click of a lock. That wasn’t disengaging until Persian left. Rheinhard could neither pick it, nor pull it off. Persian hooked a finger in the front of the mask, and waggled it experimentally. Rheinhard’s head wiggled with it, like he was a horse with a bridle on. Persian let him go, and Rheinhard resumed his seat easily.

He touched the front of it. It wasn’t his muzzle; that was somewhere in Witherhold. This was a quickly made replacement, but Persian had clearly been paying attention. Rheinhard could roll his jaw, open his mouth, and his breathing wasn’t obstructed. The bars were big enough to slot food through, and tiny mesh grates near his chin would drain water that missed his mouth.
It was comfortable, at least.

That did mean hunting the Krynian boy at the border was going to be knives only, however. He’d have preferred to take him with his teeth.

“I’m hoping we can have a more serious discussion about the future of the sands as well.” Persian mentioned, cocking an eyebrow.

________________

Chaceledon cleared his throat just outside the tent, chewing his lip. He hoped the small noise would be enough to summon the occupant; he didn’t want to wake Seteta. She clearly needed rest. He didn’t put up a fight, or make a scene. If Keket turned him away he would go and sit next to the fire, feeling a bit lost since Rheinhard was occupied.
 
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"It will be up to Seteta what happens with Amphetrion's remains," Aetes said quietly, looking toward Nebit's tent. "Amphetrion and Nailah were apparently lovers."

From what Rehema had told him, based on what she'd seen during the ritual to merge Seteta and Nailah's souls, it seemed their relationship had only ended because Persian captured Amphetrion.

"Whatever she decides, I will be there to assist in laying him to rest."

The poor girl had been through enough lately, but it seemed things weren't going to slow down for her quite yet.

"I will speak with the Aptuvi first, before granting their passage here," Aetes said. "But the guardsmen will be prohibited. You have no need of them here. Violence is forbidden on the temple grounds, and Aptuv ensures it."

His brow furrowed for a moment as Persian mentioned 'old rules' and then he watched, horror stricken, as Persian muzzled Rheinhard.

Aetes stood, then, and stepped between Persian and Rheinhard, eyes dark with rage.

"You will remove it from him, now," Aetes growled. "It is not his duty to make your people rest at ease, nor is it your right to restrain one of the Inizae, especially without permission.

"There will be no further discussions of any sort until you cease overstepping your bounds, Persian De Soto."


Keket made no effort to hide her annoyance as she shoved the tent flap aside to deal with Chaceledon.

"She is sleeping," Keket whispered angrily. "Which she barely did last night, thanks to you. So even if you've come to grovel, now is not the time."
 
Rheinhard stood again when he recognized that furious storm beginning in Aetes’ eyes. He put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a bit. “He has my permission.” He said softly. “It is a…” he hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word. “…a comfort.”

“Indeed. I believe I would be missing some fingers right now if Master Volker here did not consent.” Persian said easily. Rheinhard bobbed his head in agreement; he could have easily grabbed a hand in those crushing jaws. “I apologize for the design; I’m slightly more utilitarian than your mother.”

Rheinhard waved off the apology. “As for the guards, Aptuv may keep peace here but we also know which side of the line he plants his feet. It’s for my own comfort.” He said earnestly. “I am risking quite a lot being here.”

“Neither Chaceledon nor I will allow you to come to harm.” Rheinhard reassured him, with a glance at Aetes. He wasn’t sure if his mate would press the issue.

“Then I already feel at ease.” Persian said lightly.

________________________

Chaceledon hesitated, blinking owlishly at Keket. “I…I just want to sit next to her.” He said softly. He didn’t want to wake Seteta, but he did worry about her.
 
"Whether you consent or not is not the issue," Aetes snapped, stiffening slightly as Rheinhard's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "It is that he acted without explaining first."

His jaw tensed, fists balling in an attempt at restraint.

"You are risking quite a lot?" Aetes repeated, scorn low in his voice. "We are risking everything to allow you here. You are the one who has enslaved our people all these years.

"Just as Aptuv protects the Inizae, Aptuv also protects the sanctity of this place. There is no malicious or vengeful bloodshed here, by acolyte or priest, tribesman or slaver. This will be made clear even to your enslaved Aptuvi before they cross the border into these lands.

"You have no need of guardsmen here, and you never will. If Aptuv decides your presence is no longer welcome, our god will deal with you personally."

Aetes swallowed thickly, and made his hands go lax.

"Besides, I think it is time you felt some small iota of the discomfort we have endured for generations at your hands."


"You will wait to see her until dinner," Keket said softly. "She asked not to be disturbed until then."

She frowned and stepped closer to Chaceledon, her voice even quieter.

"Do not think that you've ensured her place at your side just by giving up your own family and culture. We Inizae believe in marriages of equals, and if you make a blunder like that again, I will steal Seteta back from you so swiftly you won't even have time to shift."
 
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