Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Rheinhard had disrobed and disappeared into the steam bath surprisingly quickly. Aetes raised a brow and finished stripping his own robes off before following him inside.

He gave a quiet rumble of appreciation at the sight of Rheinhard leaning against the warm stone with condensation gleaming on his skin.

Aetes sighed as the warmth sank into his bones. Even when the desert was hot, it was dry, and the steam was soothing in a way the desert could never be.

"What is bothering you?" he asked quietly, sitting across from Rheinhard so he could observe his lover in the low light. "You've been anxious for days."

He hated how the mask blocked Rheinhard's expressions.


Seteta leaned into Chaceledon as he kissed her cheek, and nodded.

"The healer's isn't far," she said, pointing to a building slightly larger than the living spaces closer to the temple.

She was content to hold his hand as they made their way around the spring, smiling a little as she caught sight of Aetes and Rheinhard outside the steam bath.

"It's not the same as a hotbed," she told Chaceledon, pointing it out to him, "but it is warm. It's available all the time, for the most part."

Thankfully, the healer wasn't busy. As soon as Seteta and Chaceledon walked in, she was at Seteta's side, though she expressed some concern about Chaceledon as well at the sight of his torn and stitched scalp. Once she heard that Seteta had struck her head, though, she sobered and gestured for her to sit.

As she examined Seteta--checking her head for tenderness and swelling, and her eyes and reflexes--she asked questions. What the last thing Seteta remembered was--being in the performance, but she couldn't recall the last few minutes before she passed out--and she asked Chaceledon what exactly happened and how long it took before she woke.

When she heard that this was Seteta's second rather serious head injury in the last several months, the healer frowned.

"You need rest, and plenty of it," the healer said. "Sleep as much as you can. Avoid reading. Nothing to strain your eyes or your mind. No solving complex problems, and no stress."

The healer turned to Chaceledon. "Keep an eye on her. If she's dizzy at all, I need to know. If she's unsteady on her feet, or if she slurs her words, or complains of new pains in her head, bring her here right away. A little bit of a headache will be normal, but if it's severe and sudden, it could be dangerous."
 
The steam bath was nice, in its way. It’s low ceiling and warmth reminded Rheinhard of a den. He felt safer here. He looked across the way at Aetes. “I am getting soft.” He said softly. “Persian could see it…the pressure in my head. I’ve never gone so long without killing anyone. I need to…or I will violate your laws.”

He looked at Aetes pleadingly. This was part of accepting him. Accepting his need. A prize fighting dog couldn’t just curl up on a rug and be a pet, no matter how old it was. His jaws would always itch. “The gladiator. The other warrior. I am going to tear her apart, and I want you to come with me…be a part of the ritual.” He added. He’d never shared it with anyone other than Chaceledon and Oor. Never willingly.

_____________________

Chaceledon made a face at the steam bath. “Maybe before my son had sex in it.” He muttered, lip curling in disgust. He wasn’t about to sleep in something that stank of Rheinhard and his…boyfriend. He made a mental note to properly threaten Aetes later, for stealing his son’s innocence.

He quite agreed with the doctor’s evaluation. “No reading and no stress…” he repeated. She had to rest. Gods, between her being on bed rest and Volker looking like he was entertaining thoughts of homicide, things were going to be tense. He chewed his lip. “Doc? We have to travel to the Autumn Court…I…she needs her soul settled and we can’t do it alone. Will she be alright to travel? I mean…we can take the underground route so she isn’t exposed to the weather or too much light.”
 
"A lot has happened," Aetes said quietly after some thought. "Just because your life looks different now than you ever thought it would be does not mean you are... getting soft. It just means you're in a phase of transition."

The Inizae thrived on transition. They had to. They were nomads, and the desert was an ever-changing mistress, between the winds changing the very surface of the place to the sandstorms that could appear in the blink of an eye.

There was a heaviness in the air as Rheinhard spoke of the other fighter, though. He knew Rheinhard... was not like most humans. The things that had been done to him and his family by the wraith had ensured he would never live a normal life.

Though it wasn't like the Inizae lived normal lives either.

"What... do you mean by this ritual?" Aetes asked. "What does this entail?"

He needed to know. There were vows he'd made that he could not violate, not even Rheinhard.


"They are not having sex in there," Seteta chuckled, lightly pinching Chaceledon's forearm. "That's not permitted for anyone."

The healer... restricted her from doing a lot of things. Most of it would be doable. She had no problem with sleeping, really, she found herself wanting to sleep often lately. It was good to know that it was because her brain was trying to heal, at least.

Not reading was... not difficult, but she had been curious to go into the temple archives with Nailah's knowledge. To see what she might be able to uncover. But that would have to wait.

When Chaceledon mentioned the Autumn Court, though, she looked at him curiously. Her... soul needed settling?

"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly. "This is... the first I'm hearing about visiting the Autumn Court for myself."

The last she recalled was that Rosebury had said they needed to visit because of Rheinhard. She had assumed that would still happen, especially since her father was Steward now instead of herself. But... her soul, still? Had her mother's ritual not been enough?

"I would like her to rest for several days before attempting more travel," the healer said. "And... I don't know what you mean by the... underground route?"
 
Transition. Rheinhard folded his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, and the mask on top of his knuckles. “There are some things, that even if we were to become mated formally, even if peace does come to the sands, that do no change. Even the most peaceful of us had urges.” He said quietly. “It will never truly go away. This is part of being with me, Aetes. No matter how discomforted you are. I want you to become…alright with it.”

He couldn’t name his ideal. He wanted a partner who would run with him, and hunt and tear apart prey. His father had often and loudly proclaimed the only one who could understand a Volker was a Volker. Rheinhard had always hoped he was wrong.

“I will challenge her to combat. She will lose, and I will take her apart. Piece by piece. Share a meal with you, if only a bite or two. She will feed me for a week; it will be a good fight and she won’t be wasted.” Rheinhard told him honestly, lifting his eyes to meet Aetes’. “Be there with me. You do not have to wield a knife yourself. Only embrace her suffering and know she chose this.”

________________________

Chaceledon hesitated. “Your mother’s ritual wasn’t enough. We not only need to go to the Court for Rheinhard and myself to settle Oor’s affairs, but…I want to see if they can help you. Truly help you heal.” He reached for Seteta’s hand and squeezed it. “They would know Nailah and know of what’s happened to you. They always know.”

He looked at the healer. “Persian has a rival internationally who’s chosen underground routes as a main form of trade. It would mean a more direct, protected route.”
 
Aetes listened, and leaned his head back against the wall with a sigh. Rheinhard wasn't wrong, but he was forgetting that Aetes had his own obligations. While being a priest of Aptuv was not the same as a... family curse, he had known since he took his vows that it might affect who would accept him as a mate.

"I did not mean that you would fundamentally change after this time of transition has ended. Just that... transition can bring its own set of challenges which make things we normally bear with ease more difficult."

He met Rheinhard's eyes with ease, and prayed Aptuv would give him the best words.

"To be Inizae... is to know the desert is a harsh and violent mother," he said quietly. "To know that some seasons of life will be filled with unending days where you have to fight for your life, whether against nature itself or against any number of foes we have out here.

"To be a priest of Aptuv... is to bear witness to violence and know there is sometimes nothing I can do to prevent it. To stop it. Even for my mate's defense or my children's, I cannot raise up a hand against someone in violence. Not even against Persian."

He looked away for a moment, face tense and jaw clenching as he struggled to explain. When he looked back, his eyes were sad. Worried. "First and foremost, I am a priest of Aptuv. Even before I might be your mate. But what that means is I will not be able to... participate in some aspects of your life. Nor will you be able to participate in parts of my life.

"I can be there, and witness your fight." And her death, if it truly came down to that. "But a meal of that kind is something I will never be able to share with you. Blood is sacred, especially so the blood of kin, and she is Aptuvi."


Seteta felt a weight settle in her throat. She'd... hoped, desperately, that it would be enough. That the strange sensations and memories she was still feeling just needed time. But... apparently others had noticed something she had not.

"I see..." she whispered, gripping Chaceledon's hand tightly.

The healer patted Seteta's shoulder comfortingly. The poor girl had been through... quite a lot, recently.

"Underground would likely be better," the healer said after a few moments of thought. "I know her magic is particularly strong and being surrounded by earth will be soothing for her. And the less extremes her body is subjected to, the easier it will be for her brain to continue healing."
 
Rheinhard listened. Oh, if Oor could hear him now. He was with a pacifist. The irony was deafening. He did listen, and nodded slowly. “I accept, then. But know the reason I share this is that blood is equally as sacred to me. I was born in it. We all were. Someone must die for the next one to be born, and the cycle continues. Death and violence are the way of a Volker, and being forced to be peaceful is similar to forcing you into the battlefield.” He said softly.

“You could have fooled me, the way you threatened Persian.” He added, amusement flickering across his face as he remembered the rage in Aetes’ voice. He rose, and came to sit next to him. He wished he could bury his nose in Aetes’ hair, but for the moment he nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder.

“It is alright that you are peaceful. As long as you accept that I am not and can never be, nor will any son of mine, or his sons after him.”

_____________________

Chaceledon kissed her fingers. “We don’t have to go right away. Even if they’re angry with us, the dead prize themselves on patience. They’ll have to wait.” He told her gently.

Persian wasn’t going to like the idea, but two trading monoliths needed to come face to face. What better place than grounds where war was prohibited? Chaceledon scooped Seteta into his arms and kissed her.

“Maybe you can do some drills with Rheinhard or Aron? I know Aron must miss you.” Chaceledon suggested. “Just to get your strength back.”
 
"I know," Aetes murmured, welcoming Rheinhard at his side, softly kissing his forehead. He ignored his lover's amusement.

Just because he couldn't personally use violence did not mean he was incapable of protecting anyone.

"I will never force you to be something you are not," Aetes swore. "Just promise that you will be honest with me when you are struggling.

"As for your son and his sons... we cannot know what the days to come may hold. Do not forfeit their futures based on what has happened in the past."


Seteta sighed and relaxed in Chaceledon's arms. She nodded quietly, and looked back to the healer questioningly when he suggested drills.

"Physical activity when you're awake would be good," the healer nodded. "But no sparring. Focus on movement and balance and coordination."

After that she let them go. Seteta led Chaceledon to Mesi's abode, and they retrieved everything brought for them from Hedoni. To Chaceledon's relief, Kahi and Mesi had been the ones to pack their belongings. Not Rheinhard.

Ausar was waiting for them when they returned to their own temporary house.

"You are both invited to have dinner with us," he said, scrutinizing the two of them. He knew Chaceledon would be... bristly toward him for a while yet. "Persian will be there as well."

His gaze softened and he turned his full attention to Seteta. "He brought Amphetrion's body," Ausar said gently. "We need to make plans."

A strange lump lodged in her throat, but Seteta nodded. "I understand," she whispered. "Will you come get us when it's time?"

Ausar nodded, then stepped away.

"I want to rest for a while," she told Chaceledon shakily. "But we should bathe, too."

The brief swim in the oasis the other day was the closest thing to bathing she'd done since before the Nameday.
 
Rheinhard nodded. He slid a hand up Aetes’ leg, wishing he could grab the man’s scruff in his teeth. Not that Ausar’s neck needed any more punishment. He caressed up his thigh. “I will always tell you when I am struggling.” He told him honestly, ducking the mask to rake one of the spokes across Aetes’ nipple. “I cannot taste you like this…” he said sadly.

_________________________

Chaceledon would be lying if he said he wanted to go to dinner. He kept his face stony when he sat down with Seteta, freshly bathed and wearing some of his clothing from Hedoni. He looked hopelessly out of place in dove gray silk, but he looked much less…bedraggled. He’d done his makeup, filed his claws, and gods he was grateful someone had grabbed lotion.

Persian looked on him approvingly. He was dressed in soft white linen, long and loose, with his glasses perched on his nose and a cigarette in his teeth. He smiled welcomingly at Chaceledon and Seteta. “Next time I’ll invite you to our little soirées.” He said, not unkindly. He just wanted to break the tension in the air.

“I think we’ll be taking the underground route as well, when she’s ready. Is Jayne nearby?” Chaceledon asked.

Persian made a pinched face. “My clawed rival? Gods know. The man exists to infuriate me.” He sighed, and chewed the end of his cigarette. “How are you getting along, Seteta?”
 
"And I cannot kiss you like this," Aetes said with a resigned sigh, catching Rheinhard's hand as it teased up his thigh.

"Not here, meruv." He brought Rheinhard's hand up and kissed his palm, shivering as the muzzle cage brushed against his nipple. "The steam bath is a shared space."

He shifted, bending his knees and spreading his legs. "Come sit," he said. "I'll rub your back."


The communal eating area was bustling, but not crowded, and they followed Ausar to the table set aside for their group. The entire area was like a large tent, but there was a smoke hole in the center and eating areas divided by hanging rugs. In summer, the heavy rugs would be replaced with light linen curtains. Lanterns hung from poles and braziers were spaced around the tables. Some spaces had a few smaller tables gathered together, and other partitioned areas had larger tables set aside for privacy. There was a large cooking area in the center of the space, and some of the temple acolytes were there preparing a meal.

Seteta fiddled with her robes nervously. She was glad to be back in comfortable, linen robes again but Chaceledon's tenseness was palpable and undoing any comfort she felt. Ausar had excused himself to go get Rehema.

"Thank you," she told Persian with a polite smile as she took a seat, patting the bench beside her for Chaceledon and taking note of the name--Jayne--that he mentioned. She wrinkled her nose, eyeing the... stick that Persian was gnawing at. It smelled foul.

She wasn't really sure how to answer Persian's inquiry. "I am fine right now," she eventually answered. It was the truth, and given the way things were going... all she could guarantee, really.

Ausar and Rehema, thankfully, arrived then, and Seteta stood to greet her mother, leaving the table to give her a hug. Rehema wrapped her up tightly in her arms, gently kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry to bring you here for more unpleasant things," Rehema murmured.

Seteta pulled away. "I understand," she said quietly. "I'm just ready for a break from unpleasant things soon."

They all took their seats, then. Rehema sat at the head of the table, and Ausar to her right, and Persian next to him. Seteta sat across from Ausar, and Chaceledon next to her. A thick rug padded the stone under the table, and blankets were spread across the benches to insulate them from the cooling stones.

The acolytes brought their food, similar to what they'd eaten at camp the night before: goat stew with warming spices, steamed rice, stewed fruit, and milky tea. It was standard winter fare for the Inizae.

Rehema dismissed the acolytes, spoke a short gratitude for Aptuv's provision, and then gestured for everyone to serve themselves.

"I apologize for the lack of variety," Rehema said to Persian. "I'm sure our table is much more meager than yours."
 
Chaceledon settled in at the table. He still felt tense around Ausar. The man had declared him not part of the family for a single misunderstanding. Wasn’t he supposed to be the tolerant one? He glared at Ausar and lifted his chin, prepared to ignore him for the rest of the meal. He didn’t have time or energy for this. He wanted to help Seteta through the next hurdle with the elders.

Persian seemed to have no problem serving himself generously. Fae had large appetites, and tended to be hedonistic. Chaceledon had a polite amount of food in his bowl. Adequate, but mostly rice with two pieces of meat crossed neatly in the center. A little fruit on the side. He despaired of the milk tea, not wanting anything quite so high calorie, and had water instead.

“Oh come now. Do you know how relieving it is not to have a chef who tries to impress you with every meal?” Persian chuckled. “I appreciate the rustic fare away from home.”

“Kennedi in charge again?” Chaceledon asked with a quirk of his mouth.

“Oh, absolutely. He despises it. With Krynid and Floiland we’re bound to get some testy letters.”

“They’re likely marching on you and setting up traps. Be grateful you’re nowhere near a coastline.” Chaceledon pointed out.

Persian laughed. “Ah yes, I am terrified of tribesmen with bone spears and sealskins marching on a fae city.” He shook his head in amusement. “Floiland will be more difficult.”

Chaceledon shook his head and ate delicately. “How are you, Rehema?” He asked, smiling a bit. “I was worried about you, traveling all that way in your condition. Rheinhard sets hard paces.”
 
Ausar ignored Chaceledon's tenseness, and didn't try to make conversation with him. He knew the dragon was angry with him and would be for some time. He dished up Rehema's food and his own. Seteta put nearly as much food on her plate as Persian did, frowning at Chaceledon's meager servings.

"You need to eat more, sehejib," she said quietly, spooning a couple more pieces of meat onto his rice. "The night will be cold. You need fuel to keep warm."

Seteta was mostly quiet through the meal, trying to eat before the rock in the pit of her stomach completely stole her appetite. She didn't want to think about why they were having dinner with Persian yet if she could help it. It had already occupied too much of her mind that afternoon as she rested.

"I am well, thank you," Rehema smiled at Chaceledon. "Rheinhard matched my pace, though I suspect much of it was at Tianau's badgering. He was anxious, waiting for news of you and Seteta. Do you mind telling me what happened that night?"

Seteta's gaze flickered back to Chaceledon. "I haven't heard yet what happened after I passed out, either."
 
Chaceledon was well used to Seteta pushing him to eat. He smiled at her, and ate around the additional meat. He’d eat it last, and took great care to remove any fat on it. He winced when Seteta brought up her passing out.

“You know what happened. I became hedahn.” Chaceledon said uncomfortably. He ate, avoiding looking at Seteta. He would remember that for the rest of his life. He’d remember choosing to lose his entire family. He didn’t regret it.

“Let’s move on to happier news, shall we?” Persian said lightly. “Rehema, I’m very glad you’re safe and your child is doing well. Seteta will be on the mend soon enough. What will happen when the elders come?”
 
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Seteta sighed and frowned. She would have to ask mit later. Yes, he became hedahn but... what had happened? Had she really failed, and Nica was chosen as Chaceledon's match?

Hokkaido was a fool.

Rehema set her spoon down and shifted to face Persian.

"I know we last agreed to pick up negotiations after the wedding," Rehema said. "But... circumstances changed."

Namely, Seteta. It was clear to see from Chaceledon and Seteta's interactions that a wedding was still imminent, but it might be a few more months yet.

"When the elders arrive, there will be a council. They will want to know about the surge of magic that happened, which means Seteta will have to explain." She gave her daughter and apologetic look. "Many things will depend on if they accept you as Nailah reborn."

Rehema turned back to Persian. "The acolytes will be available to help you draft your... peace treaty. You will of course have the final say, but they can help you avoid any major offenses because of wording or cultural differences. Then you will have to present it to the priests, and after they have approved the draft, you will have to negotiate it with the elders."
 
“I’m honestly just pleased the negotiations are there.” Persian chuckled, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, gesturing with the cigarette. “All things considered I don’t think it could have worked out better. The Inizae will slowly trickle in their return to your tribes. I’ve found suitable replacements the city is excited about. Believe me when I say Auction next year will be a celebration to be remembered.”

He put the cigarette back in his teeth. “I’d be happy for the use of your acolytes. My head scribe is with us, Astion. An Inizae, funny enough, so he speaks your tongue quite well. Negotiated quite a few Volker breeding contracts for me, so you could say he’s used to politics.”

“Oor hated him. Threatened to strangle him with his own collar. Didn’t Klaus take off a hand…? How is he still…?” Chaceledon cocked an eyebrow.

“Ah. Yes. I took him to the Voltese. There are some things even I can’t build, and their elegance isn’t to be understated. I doubt he and Rheinhard will be happy to see each other.” Persian chuckled. “Thank goodness one’s muzzled and the other collared.”

“I mean I suppose they’ll have to talk eventually with him getting on in years and the Well being what it is.” Chaceledon frowned, mulling over what Rehema had said. “What do you mean if they accept her? Even Amphetrion, gods rest him, knew her by sight.” He pointed out.

“Speaking of which…I do want to be there when he is laid to rest. Removing his collar, formally, is a Pedeon rite.” Persian said, the amusement gone from his face.
 
Rehema's face pinched a little as Persian mentioned suitable replacements, but she made no complaints yet. This was not the negotiation table.

"Rheinhard's not as old as he was, thanks to Aptuv," Rehema reminded them. "The... breeding issue can probably wait a little longer now than before."

Chaceledon said:
Chaceledon frowned, mulling over what Rehema had said. “What do you mean if they accept her? Even Amphetrion, gods rest him, knew her by sight.” He pointed out.
Click to expand...

"Amphetrion knew me because I look like Nailah," Seteta said, her voice monotone as she shoved around the stewed fruit in her bowl. "The elders have no memory of her. I will have to do as any other potential heir of Nailah would: prove that I am capable of leading the Inizae, and that this is the time for us to rise from the sands again."

And possibly prove, irrefutably, that she was Nailah reborn. But how she would do that... she had no idea.

She barely hid a flinch when Persian mentioned the... removal of the collar. It had made her sick to see it around Amphetrion's neck even before she had Nailah's memories.

"I had no intention of excluding you," Seteta said softly. So quietly it was almost a whisper.

She clenched Chaceledon's hand tightly under the table for a moment, then dropped her spoon and stood.

"Excuse me for a few moments," she said, voice cracking, and she lowered her head and darted out of the tent.
 
Chaceledon looked at Seteta, concern written on his face. She was speaking so oddly. Far away and distant. He touched her knee reassuringly, but when Persian brought up laying Amphetrion to rest she practically bolted from the tent. Chaceledon got up and followed her, waving off Persian when the man made to get up. The slaver settled back down, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Amphetrion and Nailah knew one another, by all accounts. Before he came into my service, that is. He was a good friend. One of the last of the first Inizae captured. The end of an era.” Persian mentioned to Rehema.

“Seteta?” He asked softly, approaching her and putting his hand on her shoulder. He knew at least a little of what Amphetrion had meant to Nailah. Lovers and friends. He has, arguably, been Persian’s friend and pet for longer. It seemed like more echoes bubbling their way to the surface.

“I think he just assumed the Inizae wouldn’t let him in the temple.” Chaceledon reassured her. “He wants to say goodbye to him too…they were good friends.”
 
"They didn't just know one another," Rehema sighed, watching as Chaceledon followed Seteta. "Our histories name him as her personal guard. They were companions since childhood, until he disappeared."

Ausar's gaze followed Rehema's. Seteta and Chaceledon had vanished from sight. It was... so much for his bright young girl to bear.


Seteta darted out into the cool night, barely breathing. If she took a deep breath, it would come out as sobs, and she didn't want to break down, not yet.

Her feet instinctively took her up a short path to where she could see the spring, and the moonlight shining off it. She leaned against a tree, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She heard Chaceledon behind her, and let out a wavering breath as his hand settled on her shoulder. She reached up to rest her hand over his.

"It's... not that," she whispered, deep sorrow in her voice. "The funeral won't take place within the temple anyway."

Gods, her thoughts were such a jumble. So were her feelings.

"I... need to try something, I think," she said, twisting to face Chaceledon. Tears streaked her face. "Nailah... she never got to mourn any of her lovers, and Amphetrion... she never even knew what happened to him.

"I know she and I are... one. Or at least we're meant to be. But it hasn't... taken. There's still a part of me that is just Seteta, and another part--quiet and still mostly--that is just Nailah.

"I need to let her..." She didn't know how to say it. It was so strange to even think about. It was... like a very small Well, in a sense.

"Like when Nestor can use Rheinhard's body. Like that, of a sort. I think."
 
Chaceledon listened to her. He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms, but she was trying to keep her composure and he didn’t want her to go to pieces. He touched her cheek as she turned to him, wiping away her tears and kissing her forehead.

“I know you want to bring Nailah peace.” He said, stroking her hair back from her face. “But this is a dangerous idea. You’ve seen how the others can take over Rheinhard. The cost that it brings…the nosebleeds, the pain. Oor didn’t care what it did to his body as long as it was functional.”

At the same time…he hung his head. “But I also know if any one of them wanted to mourn a lover, the others would let them try. The host would let them try. Maybe it could bring that other part of you, the Nailah part, some peace.”

He was worried. So much could go wrong. With the Well there were two layers of exit strategy; first and foremost that the host could wrestle control back. Secondly, that the steward could order the remnant back into the Well. Chaceledon pulled her close, wrapping warmth and comfort around her.

“If we do this we must be careful. I think Rheinhard should watch you. He knows what to do. And Persian should have a sedative standing by. I know…I know at least with the boys when they haven’t been awake for a bit they go a bit mental. They get overwhelmed by just…feeling and seeing and hearing again. Maybe you should talk to Nestor.”
 
Seteta leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as he kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair back. She wanted to bury her face into his chest and let him hold her.

He was scared. She was too, to some extent, but when he mentioned how it worked for Rheinhard, and the parts about control and hosts... she shook her head.

"It's similar but not the same," Seteta said. "Nailah and I are one soul. She can already feel and see and hear everything it's just... a little muffled. The Volkers are many souls, shoved into one man, and cut off from life. She and I are meant to fully merge. The only reason it didn't happen was because she was forced awake when... the magic took over."

She paused then for a moment, distracted from her sorrow and overwhelm as she realized something.

"Rheinhard died when my magic flooded him," she said with quiet horror, looking up at him with wide eyes. "I think... I think I died too, and Nailah forced me back. That's why it was so abrupt."
 
Chaceledon pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head. So it was much more muddled. “No wonder the Autumn Court wants a good look at you. They had a hard enough time with Rheinhard. Two souls unsettled like this, tangled up in each other? Both of you coming back from the dead? The only reason they haven’t sent the Wild Hunt is likely confusion.” He said softly. “You died and came back…my son died and came back. It’s just not done.”

Chaceledon rubbed her shoulders worriedly. “I know you need rest. We both need to heal. But gods…this is serious. I don’t want her wandering around in your skull.” He kissed her head. He was worried about so many things. About Rheinhard. About Oor’s strange disappearance.

“We have no choice but to ride it out. I know you don’t like him but I’m glad Persian is here. I don’t want him as an enemy, love.”
 
"Not just that," she mumbled into his robes, letting the warmth of his hands seep into her. "The Autumn Court may govern death, but they're still fae. Aptuv is a god. There are certain things even fae cannot stick their fingers into if a god intervenes."

A god had sent Rheinhard back, too.

She pulled back and scowled up at him lightly. "She's not wandering around in my skull," she said defensively. "Nailah is me. I'm her. It's just... a little fractured at the moment.

"As for Persian... no matter what happens, there will always be tension between him and my people," she said more gently. "Nothing I do will change that."

She sighed wearily, tucking her head back into his chest for a moment. Gods, she was... tired.

"I don't want to ride it out anymore," she murmured, pulling away. "I'm sorry, sehejib. I know it frightens you, and it... frightens me too. But... ultimately, I know Nailah and I both want the same thing: the freedom and restoration of the Inizae.

"And if I can feel everything she feels, then I'm sure she knows how I feel too."

Nailah loved Chaceledon the same way she did, of that Seteta was certain. It was... hard to explain, but she felt Nailah's love for Amphetrion and Saltarello in the same manner. The grief wouldn't be so deep if she didn't.

"She is me, and I am her," Seteta said, her voice ringing with a certainty that hadn't been there in weeks.

She stretched up onto her toes, tugging Chaceledon down to her and kissing him. Then she stepped back. "I love you," she said softly. "I promise, everything will be all right. This needs to happen."

Seteta closed her eyes, head lowering for a moment. When she lifted her head and opened her eyes, she was... infinitesimally different. She stood a little straighter, her shoulders pulled back a little more. The set of her mouth was a little more firm, and the light in her eyes was... slightly shifted. A little harder.

"Seteta is still here," she said, though her inflection and intonation was more like how it had been in the days after the influx of magic. It was Seteta's voice, but not her tone. Her body, but not quite her mannerisms. "It was... simply becoming too difficult for her to parse out my--Nailah's--instincts and feelings from her own."

She flinched then, and reached up to rub her forehead. "Blowing sands, this nagging headache is awful though. I think that was part of the problem. Pain is too distracting."
 
Chaceledon didn’t feel like correcting her. The god of the Autumn Court was death itself, the same god that Rheinhard prayed to. Oh, there was not much they could do individually, but whenever the Cardinals got involved…he swallowed thickly. He was afraid. Seteta and Nailah may have been the same woman but they were separated by thousands of years. Would Nailah know him? Would she care for him just the same? Or would she pine for Amphetrion and Saltarello?

“Koiros…please…” Chaceledon couldn’t stop her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. His grasp stiffened against her for a moment, reluctant to let her go. “I love you.” He returned her kiss ferociously, trying to impart every bit of what he felt before he saw it. The moment she just…stopped fighting it. Nailah’s stance was ever so slightly different than her own. Gods, it was so much like seeing Nestor puppet Rheinhard’s body.

He would be alright. He’d been through this before hadn’t he? Chaceledon eyed her warily. “You know who I am then? Who Rheinhard and Persian are?” He asked, cautious. “You’ve got a bit of a concussion. I don’t even let Rheinhard mess around when he has one.”

She was definitely…prouder. Sterner.

_______________________

“How disappointed you must be.” Oor smiled mirthlessly at Hokkaido. He’d come over with the pretense of getting the dahnesh over the loss of Chaceledon. Such a traumatic thing, he had said, needed healing waters. Hokkaido had agreed, as well as Peridot, but the Dahna had been looking at him strangely all night while Hokkaido stewed in rage. Oor had proposed a solution to his little problem, privately. The trap was laid, and set. He just had to give Hokkaido one last nudge.

“Shall I start with Dahna Peridot then? Give you a chance to settle your soul a bit?” He asked, not unkindly. Hokkaido nodded silently, still staring at the parlor hall. Good. He was just about ready to implode on Peridot for raising such a disappointment. Her secret was out, and their reputation was in tatters. Hedoni as well; Seikilos was finding herself with fewer contracts as of late. Who wanted to employ a Dahna who couldn’t keep track of her husband?

Dahna Peridot looked supremely uncomfortable, looking to Hokkaido. “I’m here to help. Please.” Oor said soothingly.

“I’ll…Are you sure? Perhaps we should call things off. We haven’t needed the help of a water dragon before…” Peridot was looking at Hokkaido pleadingly. Oor’s eye twitched. Pathetic.

“Go.” Hokkaido grunted. His eyes slid over Oor. Oor cocked an eyebrow; last chance. As though he expected the Dahnesh to grant her any mercy whatsoever.

Oor and Peridot walked upstairs, and Peridot shut the bathroom door behind them. “I know you’re not him.” She said coldly. “That’s not Nica. I don’t know what the hell you are…but Nica would have never spoken to us again if we’d have cut out Chaceledon. Who are you?” The heat in the room was rising.

Oor glared at her, pursing his lips. He made to walk to the sink, turning the tap. “It’s really a pity.”

“What is?” Peridot snarled.

“Oh. I was going to drown you quietly.” Oor teased water from the faucet, gathering it in his hands. “But now I see I’m going to have to be a little uglier.” The water flew at Peridot’s face. It clawed down her throat and nose, into her lungs. She gurgled, the tiles in the bathroom cracking and trying to lurch toward Oor. He stepped around the weak lashings, glaring at her. “Weak. You haven’t used your magic in decades. Not seriously, anyway.”

Peridot sank down to her knees, crumpling and clawing at the floor. With a little twitch, Oor blew her lungs from the inside out. “It’s funny. Your husband thinks he can control me once we’d gotten rid of you. His pet wraith, his little dahna.” Oor kicked her limp form. “Let him try.”
 
"I do," Nailah said with a reassuring smile and a nod. "You are... nearly the spitting image of your father."

She didn't recall whether Seteta had said anything about her relationship with Saltarello but if he was half as smart, then Chaceledon had likely figured it out on his own.

"She was telling the truth," Nailah said. "We are not two souls fighting over one body. We are one soul that was split into pieces due to that surge of magic. Her mother's ritual started the mending, but there's more still to be done. This is part of it."

She glanced back toward the tent where the others waited. Her eyes saddened.

"Seteta right now is... who I think I would have been, if the weight of the empire hadn't rested on my shoulders," she said softly. "She's never had a need to hide her intentions and emotions behind a mask, whereas I always had to. The extent of my grief was... crippling for her. It wasn't right for her to carry it alone."

Nailah's gaze returned to him, and she reached for Chaceledon's hand, stretching up to kiss his cheek.

"I am ready to go back now," she said. "Unless you have anything else you'd like to ask me first."
 
Chaceledon knew she meant it as a compliment, but it still smarted. He had spent his entire life thinking he was just an odd child, that maybe the Agata and Hedoni lines had something in common that had given him his lovely orange red hair versus Hokkaido’s midnight and his mother’s earthy brown. No. He was a bastard, one of the most shameful things a man could be. He gave her a polite smile.

“We’re taking you to Carruth, the god of the dead. If he can’t fix what’s…unsettling you, then no one can.” He said. “But first we have to prove you are who you say you are to the elders. Lay Amphetrion to rest. Speaking of which, try not to murder my best friend.” He smiled tolerantly. “He does truly want peace, Nailah.”

Chaceledon took her hand. “I wanted to ask you more about my father. I just know the basics. He was head of the Hedoni clan for a while, married a dragoness named Pala who died of egg binding, and had children with Seikilos.”
 
Nailah withdrew slightly. She noticed the shift in Chaceledon's demeanor, and adjusted to match his... reservations.

"Amphetrion first," she agreed, "everything else will happen in its time. As for... Persian De Soto, I'm certain he does want peace, but a peace of his own making and to his own advantage. He's had that for nearly twenty millennia. It is time for the Inizae to dictate peace again."

She cast a teasing smile at Chaceledon then, one eerily similar to Seteta's mischievous ones. "But what kind of queen would I be if I went around murdering people on a whim? I promise, no harm will come to him by my hand anytime soon."

She stilled when he asked about Saltarello, her hand settling in his.

"The year I spent at his estate was the happiest year of my life," Nailah confessed. "And after that, he became one of my most trusted mentors and friends. He was kind, and wise, and did not deserve the heartaches that life dealt him over and over again.

"I have... many stories I can tell you of him, but it will take a while, so we should speak in private after we'ge finished tonight's duties."

She squeezed his hand before leading him back to the tent. As they approached the table again, she met Rehema's eyes.

The priestess was aware of the shift, judging by the subtle wariness in her gaze. Nailah would have expected no less from someone who could facilitate a soul healing.

Nailah let go of Chaceledon's hand and gracefully inclined her head to Ausar and Persian.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "I am Nailah. Seteta has... let me take the lead, for a time."
 
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