Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Persian waited patiently as the elders each added a drop or two to their inkwell. Finally. It was coming to fruition. Even if it wasn’t a true alliance a cease fire was now in place. “It’s custom that the host signs first, as the place of honor.” Persian told the elder. “But, if it will make you more comfortable…”

He took the document and dipped the pen in his blood, signing with a flourish. He turned the documents back to the Inizae and watched them sign their individual sigils. The moment the pages were back in his hands, he split the stack to offer the Inizae their official copy.

“Astion?” Persian eyed the scribe.

“I’ll give the order to begin reorganization immediately. Kennedi will have already pulled them out of school for the time being; now we just shuffle them into housing.” Astion shrugged.
 
"Perhaps it is custom among the fae," the elder woman arched a brow as she watched Persian make some sort of fancy, frilly scratch on the parchment, "but here we are Inizae, and the one seeking the treaty in the first place is the one to seal it first."

As the elders finished, Rehema quietly guided the Krynians out of the area and back into the care of the temple acolytes. She returned quietly a few moments later. Many of the elders were turning their attention to Seteta, even as the treaty was being finished up.

"We will send a selection of acolytes and lesser priests back with you," Aetes told Persian and Astion. "To begin working with the Inizae you are already freeing."

Nailah clenched at her skirts nervously, seeing the way the elders watched her. They had said they wouldn't begin the trials today... but she was certain they would want information. If her people were anything, they were curious.

"Seteta bitav Rehema bitav Mesi... and further back, bitav Nailah, step forward," the eldest woman spoke.

Nailah took a deep breath, gave Chaceledon's hand a nervous squeeze as she stood, and came to stand before the elders once more as Astion finished sorting out the finalized treaty.

Supti's eyes were gentle and reassuring, and Nailah felt Seteta's affection for her cousin. He was another of... her descendants. Most of the Inizae were, she figured, in one way or another.

Nailah turned her head in surprise when Rehema stepped up beside her, and Seteta's mother reached over to pat her arm reassuringly.

"They will have questions that I will better know the answers to, in some cases," Rehema said quietly.

Nailah gave her a grateful smile, then turned her attention back to the elders. Their attention was solely fixed on her now, and it seemed they were relieved to give their thoughts to something other than Persian.

"Tell us about your claim," the elder woman commanded.

Nailah took a deep breath.

"Do you remember the night when magic surged through the desert?" Nailah asked. "That is the night I--Nailah--awoke again, and the night Seteta came fully into her power."

All the elders but Supti stiffened at her words.

"Why do you call yourself Nailah?" the elders demanded. "The one we see here is Seteta."

Rehema gently grasped Nailah's elbow, and stepped forward.

"I will explain," she murmured, and for the next while Rehema explained the events that had happened after Seteta's burst of power. Of how Nailah awakened, and the soul healing, and even now that Seteta and Nailah hadn't quite merged yet, and Seteta had yielded control of her body to Nailah.

"Seteta needs to visit the Autumn Court," Rehema finished. "As much as Aptuv is a god, their domain is not death, and Nailah's soul, while reborn, was still shrouded in the slumber of death until recently. Her powers are not stable again yet."

The elders sighed and murmured among themselves for a short while. "We will refrain from holding our trials for perav until after you have returned from the Autumn Court. We recommend that you accomplish this sooner rather than later."

"Yes, elders," Nailah answered, bowing her head.

"Unless there are any other urgent matters," Supti said, "I believe it is well past time to call it a day."

The sun was low on the western horizon. They had not gathered torturously early, but the winter days were short. All of the Inizae gave a sigh of relief as the meeting was as good as dismissed.

Nailah made her way back to Chaceledon's side.

"I am sorry that the day was so long," she told him quietly. "I hope that... you are not too frustrated with the outcome of everything."
 
Persian knew when he was being dismissed, and bowed his head toward Supti. They would be taking men back with them. He rose, and took his leave. He would wait quietly in his tent for the group, and leave with them in tow. He eyed the piece of paper in his hand. Such a strange little thing, bound in blood between himself and the rest of the elders. It wasn’t the allegiance he wanted but it was a first step. He would king outlive the elders…and so would Seteta. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have time.

Chaceledon squeezed Nailah’s hand, and stood as she did. Rheinhard followed his lead, watching as she made her case to the elders. He could have predicted they would want more concrete proof. Seteta wasn’t ready to undergo any sort of test after the strain she’d put herself under, and the sooner they went to the Autumn Court to heal, the better. Rheinhard was a little more concerned about the hollowness in Chaceledon’s eyes. The man was struggling. He’d gained and lost a family in, to dragons, the blink of an eye. He was still adjusting to not bathing daily, much less being cut off from his culture.

There was another matter that worried him. “Ausar will accompany us to the Autumn Court. He holds the Well, and the King will not grant passage to me without my handler.” Rheinhard pointed out, looking at Rehema. Ausar was reluctant to leave his mate, but he had little choice in the matter.

Chaceledon sighed in relief as they broke for the day. “I’m not. It’s hard to expect people to view this sort of thing like…dragons and fae do.” He took Nailah’s hand. “I’m fine, just tired. We should say goodbye to Persian.”
He wouldn’t hear of any more cruelty to the man after the events of the day. Persian had been insulted, dismissed, practically spat at, and Chaceledon felt for him. He led Nailah outside, and whistled at Persian’s retreating back. The fae waited for them to catch up, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry, old friend.” Chaceledon let go of Nailah to embrace him, and Persian squeezed him gratefully.

“Nevermind, progress was made, and if I was concerned about a few old goats I’d never have come.” Persian chuckled. “Nailah, you cruel thing, when will you learn all I ask of you is peace? Nevermind, take a token from me. There is a High Lord of the Winter Court in Maraan, if all rumors are true. Joseph Meier has come to soothe his deep wounds with drink. I was alerted in case he descended on the Summer Court.”

Chaceledon winced. “That would buy us passage to the Autumn Court, but…is there no other lord…? Lord Meier has a…temper.”

“And a legendary one, but another lord willing to help a young couple in love? No one that has Joseph’s unique ties to the land of the dead.” Persian pointed out. “I’d see if you can catch him. Bring liquor.”
 
Nailah sighed, following Rheinhard's gaze toward Ausar. She could more than understand his reluctance to leave Rehema's side. Rehema was close enough to hear them. "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, even pregnant," she chuckled. "Ausar will be all right."

Nailah let Chaceledon lead her outside, though she was just as dubious as Seteta that it was both of them who needed to say goodbye to Persian. It was likely going to be a day or two before he could actually leave anyway. She waited as he and Chaceledon embraced, then gave Persian a gracious nod, but not without a quirked eyebrow.

"Before I believe that, I'll have to know what your expectation and definition of peace is," Nailah said, though her voice was more teasing than serious for the time being. "You've spent a very long time exploiting the Inizae, after all."

She felt warmth in her cheeks when Maraan was mentioned, the corner of her mouth quirking amusedly as she glimpsed Seteta's memories of the time she and Chaceledon had briefly spent there.

"How will a high lord of the Winter Court be able to help us with the Autumn Court?" she asked, genuinely curious.
 
Persian chuckled. “Spoken like a true politician. I hope this cease fire will allow you to see a bit of what my expectations will be and lower your hackles a bit. If not, there is always the next generation of elders. You and I have centuries to get to know each other well, and perhaps you’ll find I’m not such a monster.” He pointed out. “As for the Winter Court, that is a long and sad tale.”

Chaceledon nodded. “We have a few ways of getting to the Autumn Court. We can travel underground with Jayne, but we have little in the way to trade with him. You also just signed a treaty with his biggest competitor. So we need a…foot in the door.” He explained.

“Joseph Meier is a fae, but unlike myself he wasn’t born that way. He has close ties to the Autumn Court…his wife was the consort to the King there.” Persian said. “I can’t labor under the assumption he and I are friends but he has a weakness for a troubled couple and Jayne’s ear. He would be the perfect escort to get the attention of the people you need in the Autumn Court. Sadly Chaceledon and Rheinhard’s clout rested with Oor.”

Chaceledon bit his lip. “Joseph Meier is a brag. The uh…only one of his kind. He shapeshifts. He’s also known for being…” he searched for the word.

“Foul tempered is the word I use, but not undeservedly so.” Persian chuckled. “He’s in Maraan drinking himself to death. Maybe you’ll have an easier time catching him.”

Chaceledon nodded. Joseph could get them through Jayne’s tunnels and get them the attention of the Erl King. The problem was going to be convincing a foul tempered lord to help them when they had nothing to offer him. It was a tall order. “He knows Rheinhard.” Chaceledon sighed. “Maybe he’d be less likely to run knowing an old friend is around.”

“Up to him. He was mercurial as a human. As a fae it’s only gotten worse.” Persian shrugged.
 
"Anyone is capable of monstrous acts," Nailah said softly, her voice turning serious for a moment. "What makes one a monster is whether or not they are remorseful afterward."

Her eyes had a hint of warning in them. It was clear she found Persian's remorse rather lacking so far.

She didn't bother to continue that subject, though, and listened as Persian and Chaceledon steered the conversation to her question.

"Fae can be... made?" she murmured with surprise, but not really expecting an answer. "Not just born?" She couldn't help but shudder slightly. From what they said of this Joseph it couldn't be a pleasant experience.

"Why don't we just fly to the Autumn Court?" She asked Chaceledon, slipping her hand back into the crook of his arm and shifting closer to him. The sun was quickly setting, and the breeze was taking on a chill. "It seems that would be quickest. I... don't recall if Seteta had ever asked."
 
“It was a unique situation. From my understanding Joseph’s late wife was a very…strange fae. She had powers beyond what is considered normal for our kind, and sacrificed her own body greatly to reform him. I wouldn’t expect such a thing to happen again.” Persian said gently.

Chaceledon patted her hand. “The Autumn Court is deep underground, and since we are both alive there is a certain protocol to getting in. Think of it like your temple grounds. There are no walls but you’d expect people to respect your boundaries. We have to pass through the gate with an escort, and without Oor Joseph is our best bet.” He told her.

Persian nodded. “I’d fly out to Maraan tonight. Joseph’s known for being mercurial and you’d much rather deal with him drunk than hungover, speaking from personal experience.”

Chaceledon sighed, and looked at Nailah. “As much as I hate to ask that we rush your father and Aetes…”
 
"Ah... I see," Nailah murmured, both in reply to Persian's explanation and Chaceledon's answer about the Autumn Court.

She frowned a moment, but chuckled at the mention of Ausar and Aetes. "Aetes is acting High Priest. He will be fine saying goodbye to Rheinhard at short notice. Aus--mit... that will be a harder battle. And you and I will both have to get clearance from the healer to travel."

Nailah gave Chaceledon's ribs a pointed look. "Will you be all right carrying three of us?"

It had barely been a fortnight since the Nameday, after all. Seteta's worry for Chaceledon--both his injuries and his mental state--was more than justified. Nailah started to gnaw at her lip, but flinched when her teeth knocked against the gold ring through Seteta's lip. This body was so similar to her own it was almost uncanny... but most of the piercings were things she'd never even considered in her previous life.

She sighed and looked back at the temple.

"Perhaps you and I should go ahead to Maraan... make sure this Joseph is even there and willing to help us," she suggested. "Then you can come back and get Rheinhard and mit in a day or two."

She doubted Ausar would leave Rehema behind so easily, so late in the day. Especially after the long day they'd had. If it was just her and Chaceledon, it would be more likely that they could leave tonight. They needed to eat as well.
 
“Will feel like four of you.” Chaceledon said tiredly. “I’ll be fine, Nailah. I’ll have to be fine. Just don’t kick me in the ribs like a horse.” He smiled wryly at her. Persian inclined his head.

“I bid you good evening. I’ll be sure to alert Rheinhard where you’ve gone.” Persian said lightly. “As soon as I’ve secured this document.”

Chaceledon nodded gratefully and shed his clothing, wincing as he had to bend and wriggle out of the simple clothing he’d been given. It felt like such an embarrassment. Undressing to change was supposed to be done with elegance and grace. Instead he was bundling up his clothing with all the care Rheinhard normally showed. Not a pop of silk or stitching to be seen, and he visibly wilted when he reached up to take pins out of his hair and found only healing cuts.

Chaceledon transformed. He was ashamed to say he looked a bit like a shaved ferret; the magnificent mane and tufted tail were gone, with only a rat like tip and bare skin in a strip down his back. He touched his elbows and sighed. The skin there was irritated. When he had been shorn it had taken all of his hair, not just that on his head.

I look like a purple snake… he sniffed.

He bent down to let Nailah climb onto his back, keenly aware she’d have to climb up his neck and hold onto his horns in absence of a mane. However, his bounding takeoff wasn’t something he could help. He tried to make it short, kicking off awkwardly into the air and making for Maraan.
 
Nailah murmured a quiet farewell to Persian, and waited silently as Chaceledon disrobed and shifted. She said nothing as he reached up to remove hairpins out of habit, glancing away whenever he seemed embarrassed.

"Your hair will grow back," she said gently as he bent down for her. "I know it doesn't make it better now, but it won't always be this way."

She was careful climbing onto his back and up to his head. She fastened his robes around her for extra warmth, and held onto his horns as he bounded into the air.

The sun had long set by the time they landed just outside Maraan. Nailah was chilled to the bone and imagined Chaceledon was as well, and she quickly pulled off his robes as he shifted back, handing them to him.

"How do we go about finding this Joseph?" she asked through chattering teeth as she looked at Maraan. The city was younger than her memory but seemed to be a bustling, lively place, even late into the night.
 
Chaceledon said nothing as they flew. The cold air bit into his back and raked freezing fingers along his spine. He hadn’t known how much the fluffy mane and tufted tail protected him from the desert night until he didn’t have it at all. He was grateful that Nailah wore his clothing; it saved him an embarassing search as they landed in the outskirts of Maraan.

He shrugged his robes back on and shivered, looking at the city before them. It was one of the smaller ones, smaller than Ragash or Joraveh, but lively. He sighed. “We start combing the bars.” He muttered, and made his way toward the nearest street.

He did feel for Meier. The man had watched every family member he’d ever had age and die. He’d been a great uncle and grandfather over and over again, without aging. His brothers, mother, and wife were long dead and gone. Fading into obscurity amongst one’s own family had to be the worst sort of slow death.

The first bar they entered was full of dancing and music, but it was at least clean. “We’re looking for a man just under five feet! Forget the dance floor; he’s got a bad leg!” Chaceledon called to Nailah over the din. There didn’t seem to be anyone matching that particular description at the bar, but Chaceledon could barely see anything over the commotion. Joseph was a brag. He could be any one of these people.
 
Nailah followed him into the first bar, frowning as she looked around. They said this Joseph was a shape shifter, so she wasn't sure how having his physical description would help.

They didn't have any luck at the first place, or even the second or third. The streets were becoming more and more empty as the night wore on, though the taverns, bars, and inns were all busy thanks to the cold.

"Does his leg stay injured in every form?" she asked Chaceledon at last as they headed to the next place, her arms clutched tightly around her to repel the cold. Chaceledon must be freezing. They should have stopped to pack more appropriate clothing before they left the temple.

She scanned the room, but admittedly she was becoming weary. It had been a long day before they even left for Maraan suddenly, and she was becoming annoyed at Persian for sending them on what seemed like a wild chuma chase.

Nailah was about to throw herself into a seat and beg Chaceledon to find them a room and stop for the night when she caught sight of someone at the very far end of the bar, almost hidden in the shadows.

His hair was short and black, and his posture and body language gave the impression of someone who was entirely done with entertaining any notion of society's expectations. And also that he was very, very drunk.

She tugged at Chaceledon's sleeve and nodded toward the bar. "Is that him?" she asked quietly.
 
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Chaceledon was about to give up. It was freezing and wandering from bar to bar hoping to find a fae lord wasn’t the best of ideas when they were dressed so lightly. The frigid desert was making him sleepy, and he found himself yawning as they walked to the next bar. At the very least the buildings themselves were warm, practically sweltering with the amount of bodies and roaring fires. Chaceledon could see Seteta was at the end of her rope was well. It was too damned late at night, and they had a long day of politics behind them.
If they had waited, however, there was no guarantee he’d be here at all.

Seteta grabbed his sleeve, and pointed at a figure in the corner. Slicked back black hair, nursing a few fingers of whiskey with several bottles laying empty nearby, skinny as a rail. He was small, just under five feet, with large expressive brown eyes. His face was gaunt, his high cheekbones not helping the permanent look of pinched disapproval on his face. His thin lips sucked at the whiskey, a cigarette in his other hand.

“I think that might be.” Chaceledon said softly. “Soften him up for us? I think I’m going to have to get us a room so we can talk a little more privately. He’ll speak common; most Floimish do.”
 
Nailah sighed and held back a scowl. "I'll try," she told Chaceledon wearily, mentally prodding at Seteta for advice for... softening someone up, but the girl had no helpful information for her.

She stepped away as Chaceledon went to find someone to help him, and at least she had no problem finding a seat near this Joseph.

There was no faking the exhaustion that caused her to slump her shoulders and let out a sigh of relief when she sat down. She hadn't had this long of a day in weeks, and her feet ached.

"Something warm, please," she asked when the server came over to her. "Without alcohol."

She hoped Chaceledon had coin on him.

Nailah waited for her drink, turning to watch the room, and watching Joseph from the corner of her eye. She was at a strange loss for words.

If she was still Nailah, Perav of the Empire, she could have approached him easily. But she was just... Seteta. A desert elf who knew more about this complete stranger than she could justify knowing, especially since she had the impression that Persian was not necessarily on incredibly friendly terms with him.

She couldn't think of a reason to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger who clearly did not want to be disturbed.

The server came back and slid a steaming cup of tea over the counter to her, and Nailah thanked him with a smile.

She took a sip before finally turning to face her... target.

"Are you Joseph Meier?" she asked quietly.
 
Joseph eyed her as she plunked herself down at his table with nary as much as a greeting. That took balls. He was a High Lord of the Winter Court, who had the ear of two courts, and was known in all four. Though he scarcely thought of himself in those terms anymore, it was clear she had no idea who he was or was simply too tired to care.

“You’re gonna sit at this table, you drink.” Joseph said without much further ado, picking up the whiskey bottle and pouring a bit into her tea. “And that depends on if you’re trying to kill me, rob me, fuck me, or use me for favors.”

Joseph gave her a look, and poured himself another few fingers. “So which is it? You’re too weak for the first, jury’s out on the second, no one wants the third unless it’s in a form you want…so I’m guessing favors. Especially since you walked in here with a dragon.”
 
Nailah scowled and pushed her cup of tea away after it was... doctored. "You know Rheinhard Volker?" she asked plainly. "I'm... somewhat like him right now, just the circumstances are vastly different. But I'm also recovering from a concussion. So I won't be drinking alcohol of any kind right now.

"I won't kill you unless you try to harm me or someone I love," she said, smiling slightly though it didn't reach her eyes. Too weak? If threatened, the earth itself would defend her, she was certain of that. Seteta's magical talent may be greater than Nailah's had been, but Nailah had centuries of practice. Centuries where she'd come to know the earth and its quirks and affections.

"You have nothing I would want to take from you, either materially or... physically. I would have walked in here with a dragon whether we were looking for you or not, because I'm marrying him."

Nailah sat back with a huff. "Technically, I do need a favor," she confessed. "But I don't just use people."

She reached up and rubbed her forehead. Chaceledon should have approached him, not her.
 
“I know Rheinhard. He’s a good friend.” Joseph said quietly. “But unless he’s gotten out from under the thumb of that wraith, I sincerely doubt you know him.” He fingered the rim of his glass, looking at her. “Explains the shaved head on said dragon.”

The fae looked her up and down. She looked exhausted, and aching. “Here.” He offered a hand. It was scarred, marred with bites and burns and scratches, but his fingers were long and elegant. “I can at least fix the concussion. Im assuming your fiancé went to get you two a room here.”

Joseph waited patiently for her to take his hand. If she did, warmth would spread up her arms, and her aching skull would be soothed. The choice was up to her, and Joseph wasn’t the type to force her. He took another sip of his whiskey. “Well. What is it you want from me? I thought I was safe here, outside of fae lands and without announcing myself. Man can’t even have a drink anymore.” He snorted sardonically.
 
"He has," Nailah said quietly, letting Seteta's memories push to the surface. "Sete-- I freed both the dragon and Rheinhard from Oor. I was Steward of the Well for a time until... circumstances necessitated that it be passed to someone else. My father controls it now."

She quirked a smile. "Rheinhard's even found a mate."

She eyed Joseph's hand before reaching for it, and her whole body sagged with relief a moment later. Gods, she thought the headache had been gone for the most part, but apparently it hadn't.

"I'm sorry we've disturbed you," Nailah apologized. "Persian De Soto is your rat, I'm afraid. He suggested we seek you out and Chaceledon agreed."

The set of her shoulders showed her discomfort and slight amount of doubt that it was the best course of action, however. Not because of Joseph, but because of Persian.

"As for why," she said softly, "that will need to be discussed in private."

She looked around furtively, checking for any sign of Chaceledon.
 
Joseph watched her sag, frowning. She was in a bad way and hadn’t rested for a while. He knew how dangerous spirits could be, fighting in the same body. She was already showing signs that concerned him; referring to herself in the third person for one. “You’ve passed Rheinhard around that much and lived? He clearly must like you.” Joseph snorted. “I had to have one of his pig stickers through my calf before he would talk to me.”

He quirked an eyebrow at the mention of Persian. “And here I was thinking about attending Auction next year. He has to like you to risk an investment like that.” Consider him intrigued. He saw her looking around for her fiancé, and rolled his eyes. Privacy was something he’d earned after all these years. He pushed his tumbler at her. “Pour.”

Joseph rose shakily from the table. He wasn’t a tall man, or an imposing man. He was a few inches under five feet, weighing less than a feed bag with no muscle to speak of. But when he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, the entire inn fell silent.

“Get the fuck out. All of you. Rest of the night. Your tabs are on me. Any complaining and I’ll make it quiet the messy way.” Joseph barked, with the cold authority of someone who both had the power to back it up and had raised enough children to do it on words alone.

As he settled back into his seat with a pained wince, customers, dancers and servers alike exited the inn. Joseph only spoke up when the bartender grabbed his bag. “Not you. Mint liquor for her stomach, another bottle for me.” Joseph barked at him.
 
Nailah laughed softly. "I don't think Chaceledon would have proposed if Rheinhard hadn't approved of our relationship, no matter how much he loves me," she said with a smile. "And well... Persian might have a hard time with the next... Auction." Glimmers of Seteta's memories of the most recent Auction came through, and Nailah felt a soft pang of grief for Amphetrion again, and regret for not having recognized him then. Even though it had been part of her agreement with Aptuv to cut all ties to her former existence... she would never not regret that. "My existence frightens him enough that he scrambled to make a treaty with the Inizae."

She raised a brow when Joseph shoved the tumbler in her direction, but didn't hesitate to fill his glass as he kicked everyone out of the tavern. Properly pouring and serving a drink had been one of the many etiquette skills Saltarello taught her. Her own tutors would have never dared to think the heir to the empire would need to pour a drink.

"Mint tea, please," Nailah corrected the bartender, her stomach starting to ache with hunger. "And whatever food was ready to be served but hasn't been eaten yet."

Where was Chaceledon? She would rather have this conversation with him around. There were certain facts that she wasn't sure she would be able to keep straight on her own.

She nervously bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Joseph, then sighed again. "We need your help getting to the Autumn Court," she said simply, quietly, after the bartender brought the drinks and practically filled the table with random plates of food.
 
Joseph gave her a look. “You’re young yet. Nothing delays Auctions. Not wars, not famines, not sandstorms, and certainly not a lone girl. We all have our part to play.” He said with a sigh, taking up his glass and sipping his whiskey. He watched as the bartender set tea in front of her, as well as various bowls of rice, meat, and vegetables left behind by the people who were unceremoniously kicked out.

“Just put them on my tab.” Joseph waved a hand dismissively at the sour faced bartender. The man clearly wasn’t enthused about serving only two people. “The Autumn Court? Why the devil would you want to go there? You’re alive, after all. Iren doesn’t like the living running amok down there and I don’t much blame him.”

Joseph glanced up as Chaceledon came down the stairs, smelling of fresh soap and hot water. Of course. With an evening winding down a dragon’s first priority would be heat and bathing. Chaceledon pulled up a chair and bowed at the waist.

“My lord.” He greeted.

“Don’t lord me. Now both of you. Why this particular favor? To settle the both of you down in that one body?” Joseph asked.

“I…well, yes.” Chaceledon admitted with an apologetic look at Seteta. “We seek healing from the Cardinals. Perhaps some advice.”

“And what makes you think I’d drop everything and visit a man who’s deified my ex-wife?” Joseph sneered. “Though…in the interest of annoying him…perhaps it could be fun. What say you, little girl? Want to irritate the king of the dead?”
 
"A hard time and a delay are two different things," Nailah chuckled. "Sete--I finds some pleasure in irritating Persian. And it's not a girl that frightens him, but rather a queen reborn."

Nailah gave the bartender an appreciative smile, and eagerly picked up a bowl of rice and started topping it with meats and vegetables. They hadn't had a proper meal since breakfast.

"Seteta is the one who's alive," she explained in answer to Joseph's inquiry. "She is my reincarnation."

Her face softened as she heard Chaceledon's footsteps on the stairs, and she smiled softly as he came into sight. Though slightly irritated that he'd bathed without telling her, she was relieved that he'd warmed up. He had been bordering on dangerously cold again.

As he greeted Joseph, she fixed Chaceledon a bowl of food, handing it to him.when he sat.

"I'd wager I'm older than both of you," Nailah said with an impatient sigh at Joseph's insistence at calling her 'little girl.' "I know for certain I'm older than Chaceledon. And queens don't make a habit of irritating other monarchs, even if they are fae."

She reached over and patted Chaceledon's arm when he gave her an apologetic look. It had been annoying to deal with Joseph alone for so long, but she'd managed, and then she continued explaining.

"Seteta was always meant to remember her past life, but there was... an accident. I was forced into awareness to prevent her death. Her mother performed a soul healing to mend her fractured soul, but it wasn't quite enough to truly merge us. It just stabilized things.

"I've been... at the forefront for a few weeks now. I've tried to give control back to Seteta several times recently. She hasn't been strong enough to do so, and I'm not sure why."
 
Joseph chuckled. “Little girl I have loved more than you ever could, lost more than you could imagine, and lived through a deeper hell than all of it. It’s not the age, it’s the mileage.” He said coldly. “I’ll call you what I please and you’ll be grateful for it. Queen? Of? Your throne is crumbling rocks and, might I add, you are asking my favor.”

Chaceledon winced. “My Lord, forgive our rudeness. We need the Cardinals to settle both halves back into a whole. She can’t live like this. This isn’t the woman I proposed to…and yet it is all at once.” He explained awkwardly.

“Bit of a dodgy reincarnation. I almost prefer Oor’s methods.” Joseph snorted, chuckling into his glass at his own joke. “Fine. I’ll go with you to the gate. I’ve still got enough pull with the lords of the Autumn Court to get you to the Church. But, I ask for one thing in return.”

Joseph set down his glass, and met Nailah’s eyes. “I heal you. You release me. Destroy the statue of the woman at the center of the town. To powder.” He growled. “Kill the woman who did this to me.“
 
"Do not apologize," Nailah snapped at Chaceledon, though she visibly flinched at the... rest of his words. "We are not the ones being rude here."

Nailah's mouth tightened as she looked back at Joseph. "You have no idea what I have loved and lost and given up to have this one chance to bring my people back to their proper place," she said, her voice equally as cold. "But I did not come here to compare tragic pasts and parse out who has experienced more heartbreak. Even crumbling rocks are born of the earth, and it is the earth that is my domain. Regardless, whether you or anyone else considers me a queen, I will not goad a fae ruler into wrath against my people just for fun. That was all I meant."

She leaned back in her seat, weary and angry. "I will consider your request," she said quietly. "But only after you've taken us to the Autumn Court, and I will know your claims against this woman. It has never been my habit to execute a person based on hearsay by a single witness."

Nailah pushed her dish away, only a few bites of rice left in the bowl. She turned to Chaceledon, and looked down at her hand, then gently tugged the engagement ring off her finger. She felt Seteta's sadness at the action, but the younger woman didn't protest.

"If you can see so little of Seteta in me," Nailah said softly, her voice thick as she reached for Chaceledon's hand and placed the ring in his palm, "that you think I am not the woman you wished to marry, then you should be certain."

She had tried to explain it before. Had tried to reach out to Chaceledon and make him see that Seteta was still there. That Seteta could feel and see everything that Nailah did. That Nailah felt everything Seteta did. She'd understood the physical distance he'd asked for, but he needed to understand that the longer he kept her at an emotional distance, the more Seteta would suffer.

"We are not two halves," Nailah said as she stood. "We are not like Rheinhard, housing a multitude of souls. Nailah and Seteta are the same soul. The same person. The memories and emotions and life experiences are just a little jumbled right now.

"So be certain this is what you want," she finished speaking, her voice barely a whisper. "Because Nailah will still be here, along with Seteta, even after everything is... settled."

Nailah turned and left the dining room. It was simple enough to follow Chaceledon's scent up the room he'd acquired, and she was grateful that he'd bathed. Since there were no servants right now to empty the bath, the water was still there. More tepid than warm, but she didn't care as she stripped off her clothes and sank into it, leaning her head back against the tub rim with a heavy sigh.
 
“Fair enough.” Joseph settled back. “All that I am she has done to me. I was just a human with stolen magic before. Now I am fae. I’ve watched my entire family wither and die. All six brothers, and their children, and their children’s children. I had to let myself fade from their memories for my own sake. I watched my children die, my house crumble to the ground. All because I was some pitiable excuse for the man she truly loved, and I was so blinded by adoration for her I couldn’t see it. I restored her name, her glory, her titles and she repaid me by abandoning me to my eternal lifespan.” Joseph said sourly. “Her iron heart poisoned her, and being such a lovesick fool I imprisoned her in a cage of stone until I could find a cure. That statue still stands in the Autumn Court, beloved and adored.”

Joseph narrowed his eyes. “Smash it to powder. Recover that ball of iron that served her unfeeling, devil self and return it to me so I can banish her. Then, finally, I can end it.”

Chaceledon stared, and numbly looked at the ring in his hand as Nailah stood and walked up the stairs. He turned it over in his fingers sadly.

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first stupid man to fall in love with a broken woman.” Joseph sneered into his glass. “Go up to her. I’ll wait down here for morning, and take you to the Autumn Court.”

“I…thank you.” Chaceledon stood.

“Just be sure of this. We both love strong women, beautiful and terrible. Make sure she isn’t another Fell.” Joseph warned. He turned to his bottle, and Chaceledon sensed the conversation was over. He awkwardly made his way up the stairs, following Nailah into the room. She had claimed the tub, and the water was still fragrant with soap. He settled his hand on the rim, and warmed the water up for her.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.
 
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