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raevenlywrote · 3 years

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Frayed Knots: Reaching Out

1.3k, stand alone, light discussion of sex and BDSM, pregnancy mention

“I don’t know how to do any of this!”

I paced the short distance across Irene’s chambers, my sister-in-law sitting placidly in a tub of warm water. I’d insisted that I could leave, that the advice I sought wasn’t nearly so important that it couldn’t wait for her to finish bathing. But the heavily pregnant woman had insisted, if I was comfortable doing so, that she’d prefer to stay in the tub, soaking her aching belly. So I paced, and I tried not to make eye contact, and took Irene at her word that she really was more comfortable advising me on my sex life while soaking away the results of hers.

I was never going to become accustomed to the serpiente attitudes towards nudity.

I was having enough trouble with mere romance alone. Sex seemed utterly out of the realm of possibility, with the snarl my love life had become.

“Danica, sit down. I’m exhausted just from watching you.”

Irene rested her face on crossed arms, draped lazily over the edge of the tub. That meant more or less everything was covered, from my point of view, as I perched on the stool meant for towels. I clutched them to my chest, as if doubling my coverage would somehow balance out her lackthereof. At least they smelled nice as I all but buried my face in them.

“Thank you. Now, what exactly don’t you know how to do?”

Balance two men, two cultures, two kingdoms. Perform my wifely duties. Start this conversation.

“Any of it,” I mumbled into the towels. I heaved a sigh and lowered them to my lap. I was the one who’d sought Irene out. The least I could do was not waste her time.

“I don’t know what they want from me. Rei is barely comfortable even kissing me now that I’m married to another man, and Zane…”

Zane was treating me with more deference than Andreios at his worst. We touched and flirted in public, Zane bending low to my ear as if to whisper sweet nothings, when in truth he’d remind me to breathe, share intimate details of his court, or make some small joke. I did alright, I thought, following his lead. But once we retired to his chambers, Zane would retreat. And I had no idea how to follow. Or even if I should. After all, if he wanted more, wouldn’t he just… take it?

Irene sloshed, and I realized I’d been gathering wool again. Then I realized that even if I hadn’t been speaking, my aura had still been communicating my thoughts, or at least the general gist of them. I felt the all too familiar heat start to creep up my face.

“This is going to sound awful, but I’d sort of assumed he would… well, be more… forward?”

Irene nodded, smile far kinder than I deserved. “You assumed he’d be more sexually aggressive, as a serpiente.”

My cheeks felt as red as the garnet gaze I dropped my eyes from. “Or at least as the more experienced partner, yes.”

That too, but Irene had read me exactly correctly. I kept waiting for my serpiente lover to sweep me up in his arms and have his wicked way with me. The idea excited me more than it frightened me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to both. And the serpiente would taste the truth of my conflict. And so, Zane and I had yet to consummate our marriage.

And the longer it went on, the less likely it seemed we ever would.

When Zane and I had kept our prior lovers—well, his lover, my… intended? beloved?--we hadn’t really discussed where that left he and I as a couple. I had appreciated then his patience with me, his willingness to cultivate a friendship and partnership without the pressure of courtship. But now…

Now I wondered if it was somehow too late.

Irene touched my arm, making me jump. Skies, I should have just kept pacing in my bedroom for all the present I was being.

“Danica, look at me. This is important.”

Well. That made me want to do anything but. But I met her eyes, and tried not to think of how very much they reminded me of Zane’s.

“Consent is one of the highest values in serpiente society. No one is made work, worship, perform, or live in any way they don’t wish to--”

“I know that--”

“Therefore,” Irene continued, using the stern but patient tone I knew she would someday use on the child she now carried. If I resent being treated like a child, then I shouldn’t interrupt like one. Fair enough. I nodded and bit my lip, trying not to squirm.

“Therefore, the more experienced partner will always yield to the exploring one. If you wish for him to be aggressive, you must ask for it. You will have to detail exactly how far you want him to go, how forceful you want him to be--”

“That sounds awful!”

I hated the whine in my tone, how petulant I sounded. But it felt supremely unfair that I was expected not only to push past my comfort zone, but to describe the actions in detail.

“Imagine how awful he’d feel if he crossed you, Danica. Is your discomfort really greater than his? Do you think Zane could ever forgive himself if he felt he’d somehow taken advantage of you?”

No. Not my gentle, careful Zane. But surely, surely there had to be some middle ground. I said as much, trying not to sound too exasperated.

“Surely not all relations are as… negotiated, as those that require contracts?”

I’d learned more than I’d truly wanted to about the broad scope of serpiente arrangements, from casual encounters to full power exchanges that required safety words to end them they were so extreme. I didn’t know much about avian partnerings, but I was almost certain there weren’t negotiations beforehand.

“No,” Irene agreed. “Some partners simply make love, and follow each other’s body language. But if you want him to be aggressive with you, you will have to lay out some ground rules before hand, so he knows what resistance is play, and what is actually undesired. The aura feels the same either way, so it must be established before hand, while of a cool and level disposition.”

“I…”

I didn’t know which stymied me more: the idea that love making could be done while a partner’s aura reeked of fear, or the idea that both parties would enjoy it. I’d worked so hard to undo my prejudices against serpiente devils, who reveled in battle and killing, who thrived on suffering--

I’d thought that had been war time propaganda. Was there really an essence of truth to it?

Irene sighed, and instinctively I pulled my aura closer. I know the serpiente preferred I not, that the avian reserve felt cold and empty and haunting. But surely that feeling was better than reading my disgust?

“Talk to Zane, Dani. I promise you you’ll both get more out of this conversation than I am.”

“I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be.” She touched my arm again and smiled. “I’m glad you reached out. It warms my heart to know you trust me enough to do so.” She winced and leaned back, pain pinching her brows and closing her eyes. “But I am also very pregnant, and your aura spikes are more than I can really handle right now.”

Before I could apologize again she looked up, giving me a tired smile. “Go talk to your husband. You don’t have to dive off the deep end into full contracted play. But at least let him know you’re interested in him. I promise it’s not as hard as it sounds. He’ll met you more than halfway, if you’ll but hold out your hand.”

#hawksong #kiesha'ra #hawksong fanfic #kiesha'ra fanfic #danica shardae

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raevenlywrites · 3 years

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Frayed Knots: Urban and Marus

Wanted to play around with the sweetest boys from WolfCry, Oliza’s suitors Urban and Marus. Dunno what, if anything, I’ll do with this, but enjoy what I’ve got :P

Marus turned back for the third time, then turned around again. He’d started back down to the southern hills almost immediately after landing, temper cooled by the short flight. It hadn’t done anything to clear his head; his thoughts still swirled like so many dancers’ scarves-- not helpful. He needed to be calm, to pull himself together. He felt like such a sham, a pretender to the great avian reserve. Whatever trick his forebears had used to keep their emotions to themselves, they hadn’t taught it to Marus. Still, that was no excuse for his behavior. He owed Urban an apology.

But he wasn’t sure he was in any state to give one.

Oliza was right. She needed--deserved--a suitor who could walk in both worlds. He hadn’t even made it through a single dance lesson without losing his cool.

He sighed. If he’d been a serpiente…

Well, punching people was still considered impolite, but maybe it wouldn’t have come to that. Maybe he’d have some outlet for this frustrations, some way to let it all out, rather than shove it all down--

He turned back again. He was entirely too worked up to go back among the serpeinte now. Skies above, they probably wouldn’t even let him back in, radiating such emotions as he was. It was so unfair that Urban could read his every upset, his every spark of temper, and fan it to a whirling flame. No avian’s reserve could stand up against that sort of assault.

No. Assault was what Marus had done, striking someone for simply teasing him. He was in the wrong. He needed to apologize.

And maybe step down.

Urban was a good match for Oliza. He could keep up with her, no matter which paths she tread. He was quick witted, keen eyed, and moved with a grace that matched her wyvern’s keenness. They were splendid together, and Urban’s charm and poise would surely win over even the most skeptical sparrow with time. He was the right choice.

Steeled, he set off again for the southern hills, not looking too hard at the niggling thought in the back of his mind that it would be faster to fly.

The party was soured for Urban after the fight. The carousel of dancers that came and went--his friends, his family--trying to cheer him up, to draw him back into the dance… He should go. There was no need to let his disquiet bring everyone else down.

Far from the press of everyone else’s happiness, his dampened mood settled into a distinctly bad one. He felt bad. Guilty. Selfish.

The nest was home because everyone worked to make it so. The burdens of one, shared by many, were light. But his heart felt too heavy to place on someone else’s shoulders. More to the point, it belonged there. He should be down, should feel badly for his behavior. He’d pushed Marus, knowing he was close to snapping. It wasn’t fair to use his serpiente advantages against the easily flustered avian. He’d told himself his intentions were to show Marus for who he really was, to reveal the avian’s so fragile reserve. When it had felt like a game, when he’d felt like he was winning… well, it was easy to convince himself of his rightness. Now…

His wandering had taken him to the marketplace. He hadn’t been going anywhere in particular, half so much as just “away”. Away from the nest, away from the press of so many happy emotions… With a little snort, he realized he’d been drawn to the quieter side of town, drawn to the peace of the reserved avians.

How fitting, he thought, sketching a few steps of dance before the statue of the wyvern in the center of the court in greeting, that I wind up here. In the empty, silent heart of the wyvern’s court.

In the serpiente capitol, in the heart of their kingdom, the markets never slept. It’s energy ebbed and flowed, of course, but it was never entirely empty. Food vendors could find profit well into the night from the dancers, and once they’d finally gone to bed, the farmers were just rising. There was always lifesblood flowing through the heart of the serpiente market.

The empty, cold marble of the wyvern marketplace… it was haunting.

It made Urban wonder, having seen the Keep in full Festival just earlier that day, how the avians kept the night. He knew their scholars could debate long into the night, their acts of didactic logic truly beautiful in their elegance, their artistic simplicity. An avian orator could convince a cobra their scales were viper white, if given enough time. Were they at it even now, spinning their words to a rapt avian audience, weaving myth and allegory to a spellbinding cadence?

It had been the beats of their words that had given Urban the hopes that Marus could be taught to dance, truth be told. There was an obvious rise and fall to it, a sense of musicality that was clearly cultivated and integral to avian oration. That sense of beat had shown him the quiet heart of avian culture, had made him wonder if that beat could be stirred, heightened. Sped up to something danceable.

It had been worth a shot.

Then he’d blown it.

His footfalls grew more determined as he crossed the market, ready to be done with its ghosts. It was too young to have ghosts. And Urban was too young to wrap his mistakes around himself like ancient regrets. He could simply apologize. This didn’t have to be some great thing that weighed him down for the rest of his days. He was proud, a tu’adir dancer. He would shed this weight, and his heart and footfalls would be light again.

#raev does fanfic #hawksong fanfic #kiesha'ra fanfic #my writing

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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Dasi High, for really reals

Finally got a first chapter I actually like!

I walked an expanse of endless sand. The night desert air carried hints of spice and stone and worried at my exposed skin with cutting cold teeth. I shivered and rubbed my arms in annoyance. This part of the dream was getting old.

But I knew that just over that dune lay a fire, and around the fire, figures danced.

Their long shadows cast out like the tails of an inverse sun, snapping and cracking like dark twins to the flames they danced around. Music made of wind and whispers pulled at me, urged me to come down, come dance, become a shadow.

I’d never once made it down to the circle.

I didn’t dream this scene every night, but I’d dreamt it often enough to be annoyed with its tantalizing tease. If I didn't’ waste so much time on the stupid sands, I might finally get to see who danced in that circle. A figure always broke off, coming to meet me half way, and though I got a little closer every time--

“It’s the top of the hour, and you’re listening to WKSR!”

I smashed my hand against the alarm clock, wishing I could hurl it into the dreamscape’s flames.

Never make a song you love your alarm tone, unless you’re ready to hate that song forever. That goes double if its from show you used to really love, but now associate with rage and dreamus interruptus and can never watch again. I flopped forcefully back against my pillow, tempted as always to just go back to sleep. What was out here for me in this world of pop songs and overly enthusiastic radio announcers?

Plenty, was the answer, and after a while the ennui of waking left me, and I rolled out of bed to wash the sand of sleep from my eyes. - “Hey.”

I looked up to see Brass standing in front of my desk, something held to his chest. Since it was neither latte nor donut, it was hard to muster interest in it this early in the morning. When he set the crusty old book down on my desk like it was supposed to mean something, I just stared up at him.

“Since when do you read?” I teased. Picking on Brass was one of the constants in my world. Sky was blue, grass was green, Brass and I bickered and teased.

He gave me a half-hearted smirk, but I could tell he was distracted. I leaned back in my chair, cocking my head in what I hoped was a sympathetic manner. This was why we hadn’t worked as a couple. Teasing I got. Real emotions? They seemed weird between me and Brass. And it was way too early for it. Best to just let him get it off his chest and get it over with.

He drew a deep breath in through his nose, reminding me way to much of all the times he’d started “a talk”. It was hard not to get automatically defensive.

“So you know how my mom runs that homeopahtic shop or whatever?”

I nodded, biting my tongue to keep from interrupting him. We’d been friends since diapers. I knew his mom as well as I knew my own. Maybe better. “Aunt” Cynthia was way cooler than my stick in the mud mom. And her shop carried some of the coolest stuff. Suddenly this rusty crusty Giles-like book got a lot more interesting.

“What’s with the Necronomicon?”

“It’s not a--“

He cut off, his mouth twisting in that sideway grimace that made his nose scrunch. I hated that I still thought it was cute. I distracted myself from it by flipping open the tome. “Tome” had a lot better ring to it. Yeah, I was liking this tome more and more.

“Apparently it’s a grimoire. Mom likes to collect them for old recipes and stuff, but this one...”

His fidgeting was enough to ruin the mystical communion I was trying to have with my cool new book. I propped my face on a fist, giving him a sort of “spill it” gesture with my eyebrows. I did a lot of talking with my eyebrows. I had expressive eyebrows, worked hard to get ‘em that way. They were kind of my signature thing now. I hoped. Too cool to speak. Talk to the brows. Yeah.

Brass wilted under my killer gaze, reaching down to flip a page in the book. I felt weirdly protective of it, annoyed that he’d dared touch it--even though it was his book. Just because he’d put it on my desk didn’t mean he was giving it to me.

“I thought you should have it,” he said, seeming to echo my thoughts. I felt immediately embarrassed and empowered at the idea. Heck yeah, bow before my cool mind powers--but ick, stay out of my thoughts. Especially since I still kind of like you. Double ick.

“Brass, what about this crusty old book makes you think I should have it?”

When in doubt, pretend you don’t want it. Lessons learned from Sassy the Cat of Homeward Bound fame.

“Cause you’re crusty old news!”

Izzy wrapped her hands around Brass’s arm, giving me her “trying too hard to be cute” nose-wrinkled grin. Brass’s nose wrinkle was better. But hers was cute, I could admit. Much easier to admit since I knew her passes at Brass didn’t mean anything. Izzy didn’t want to date him any more than I had. She’d just been smart enough to say no when he’d asked. Which made him more fun to flirt with now, I guess. I dunno. The mind of an Izzy is a mystery.

“No,” Brass said tightly, trying on the new tactic of “ignore the PDA”. Good for him. The blushing had been cute, but it made him look easy to rile. More fun to tease. Stoic man, that was the way.

“I thought she should have it because--“

“The vibes!” Dani invited themself in our conversation and I tried not to sigh. I loved my friends, I really did. We were tight, tighter than family. But now they were going to chat all through homeroom and there would be no coffee, no book, no ten minute nap. My desk had become socializing central.

“It’s the vibes, right?” Dani insisted, helping themself to my book. I let out a protest as they picked it up, but too little too late. They turned the book over and over, as if looking for a review or pricetag or something. “This thing totally has spooky vibes, just like our Ki.”

“It’s because she’s a Scorpio.” Oh great. Landon had invited himself over too. Party and Kiesha’s desk. “Scorpio’s exude a mysterious energy. But they’re secretly big cry babies.”

I stuck my tongue out at Landon-the-know-it-all, but he ignored me.

“No,” Brass insisted, taking his book back once again. He spread it out over my desk again, opening it back to that same page. It looked like a family tree. He ran a finger over the lines, indicating a very familiar name.

“It’s because it’s literally got her name on it.”

Everyone leaned in, casting an actual shadow on the page they crowded so close. It made the age-faded ink even harder to parse, but the “Kiesha” Brass had indicated was plain enough.

My book.

The urge to close it up and clutch it to my chest nearly overwhelmed me. Instead I leaned away, ostensibly to let everyone else get a better look. In truth, I hated ever looking too interested in anything. I had always been so obnoxious with my interests as a child. I never let anyone see anymore when I was really into something. Always play it cool.

But the book called to me, and the more I held myself back from it, the more I wanted to pour through its pages, discover its secrets. It was my book. It had my name on it. Fate had sent it to me.

My friend’s chattered turned to white noise in my ear. Distantly, I caught snatches of “where did you get it?” and “that’s so cool!” but all I could really hear was the pounding of my own heart in my ears. It felt like drums, dusky and ancient, and more important than anything else that might happen that day. Damn you, Brass, for giving me something so cool at the start of the school day. This was going to taunt me all day, just like that stupid fire circle.

I swooned as the beat of my heart joined the whispers of smoke and song. A hand on my shoulder made me jump. I blinked up into Brass’s concerned face.

“Ki? You okay?”

I nodded, shaky and shaken. I needed some air.

“Skipped breakfast. Could one of you snag me something from the vending machines?”

Izzy nodded and hopped off, knowing Brass would be completely distracted by concern for my well-being now. He still hovered like a protective mother hen, even though we’d broken up months ago. Talk about your brooding hero. Dani pulled Landon away and I sent a silent thank you to them for wrangling their snotty boyfriend. Landon was a great study buddy, but he had the personality of Metamusil. Good for you, probably, when you were ancient. We were too young and cool for his old man routine.

Brass crouched down by my desk so I didn’t have to crane up at him.

“Are you really good?”

I nodded, letting myself rest my head on his shoulder. Brass was a constant, weird ex or not. He’d been childhood friend longer than he’d been my... whatever we’d been, and enough time had passed that I could let myself take comfort from him again.

“Sorry about the book thing. I can--“

“It’s great.”

I cut him off before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say. I wasn’t about to let my “be cool” rule part me from my book. I pulled back to better look at him.

“I do really like it, weirdness or not. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Of course.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, then stood and beat a retreat to his side of the classroom. Izzy came back with a Coke and some donut sticks, and I slid the book into my bag before any sticky accidents could befall it.

#raev does fic #the kiesha'ra fic #kiesha'ra fanfic #the kiesha'ra #dasi high #kiesha'ra #my writing #fanfic

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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The Ties That Bind 11 of ???

“Dani?”

Rei touched my shoulder, tentative, cautious, and I wanted to turn and scream at him. It was irrational, I knew, but I was tired of being rational. I wanted to sulk and snipe like my guard captain; I wanted to joke and tease like Zane. Even Emune’s stoic, silent hostility was more emotion than I felt allowed to show. I wanted to bury my face in Rei’s chest and scream and sob and shout and beat my fists against him and feel his strong arms around mine and know that they would never let go.

I did not want to be a hole in the ground crying within earshot of Zane Cobriana.

I sat, frozen, unable to offer Rei any sort of response because to move at all would be to fly apart in every direction at once. I was exhausted, on every level, but the demands of me just kept coming.

And now here was Rei, asking without words if everything was alright, and knowing that it wasn’t.

When I didn’t react to his presence, Rei moved closer, kneeling next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder, gentling me to his chest. I let it happen, let him take comfort from the actions of comforting me, hoping that maybe if I went through the motions it would somehow seep in through this solid wall of icy nothingness. I could feel my edges cracking, wanting desperately to shatter. But Rei’s embrace did not offer enough heat for anything so dramatic. No whirlwind collision of fire and ice would ever come of two so steeped in reserve.

I pushed away.

“Dani--“

“Don’t, Rei.”

I tried to gentle my harsh refusal with the softness of his childhood nickname. Dani and Rei. Two untried children who thought they knew what grief was. Oh, if we had only known what torments would be yet to come.

“Is Rei who you want?”

His question startled me, made me scrutinize him in the close dimness, as if I had somehow mistaken the voice I knew so well, the arms that cradled me to sleep when the nightmares left me screaming, the heartbeat as familiar to my ears as my own. I studied his face, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes, searching for... I didn’t know what.

“What does that mean?” I finally asked, at a loss. At least his enigmatic question had given me something else to fixate on, shaken me from my mire of emotions.

Rei pulled back, and I realized I’d been steadying myself with a hand on his chest, because as he moved away I felt my balance shift, and did not appreciate the metaphor. Yes, Rei was my rock, but he wasn’t leaving me--

Or was he?

I flashed back to his outrage at the Mistari camps, the betrayed confusion in his eyes as I’d flung myself between him and Zane. How obviously unhappy he was with this entire arrangement--and how flagrant he’d been with all these emotional displays, and how utterly unseemly it all was.

We’ll find a way, he’d promised me. And I’d said the exact same words to Zane.

Is Rei who you want.

“Rei...”

I followed him, letting my hand on his chest take more of my weight, letting him feel the shift in my balance, letting him know I would fall without him. It was the only language we had for this thing we dared not voice, the only way I had to show him how much he mattered to me.

Everyone assumed he’d become my alastair, when I was ready. But what confirmation had I given him, the man who would give his life for me a thousand times over? We never spoke of it, because it was unseemly...

When had this gulf grown up between us?

Maybe it was just from watching Zane and Adelina, so obviously a couple without ever doing anything overt, but...

I wanted Rei. And the fact that he could ask me that, that I’d left him any room to doubt--it broke my heart.

I’d preserved my purity so carefully, and for what? Zane didn’t care, and had made that clear. And Rei... Rei had suffered for my chastity.

I brought my other hand up to cup his face, bringing me even further off balance, and searched his stern face for a sign. That he’d stop me, that he wouldn’t... But he didn’t flinch, not even around the eyes. Rei was locked down, hiding from me--me. I felt balanced on the edge of a precipice, knowing that if I didn’t bring him back to me now, he’d be lost to me forever.

Did I love him? Of course, absolutely and without question. Did I love him in the way he loved me?

I just didn’t know.

But I wanted to find out.

I slipped my hand around to cup his neck, feeling his raven’s feathers soft under my fingertips. I pulled him to me, pushed myself higher up on my knees, did everything I could to close the gap--but he had to come to me. I couldn’t make this soldier bend if he was unwilling.

I breathed his name, the bare whisper of it lost in the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

“Rei... Yes. I want this.”

Now he did flinch, and I thought my heart would break into a million pieces.

“Here? You want to do this here?”

I bit back my sigh, tried to keep my voice and breathing even.

“Yes, Rei, here. Why not here? Why not a million times before this? What has kept us from this?”

He couldn’t answer, because there wasn’t an answer. We’d kept ourselves apart for reasons that didn’t exist, not when faced the desperate reality of two people who needed each other. I urged him down again, feeling that I was nearly hanging from his neck, begging him to bend, to not fight this now that I was finally ready--

His lips were startling against mine, too fierce, too sudden. Yes I’d asked him to do this, but I hadn’t expected it to be so, so...

I tried to stop thinking, to just feel his lips against mine, his hair under my hands, his breath hot on my face-- Breathe. I couldn’t breathe. This was supposed to be passionate and fulfilling, and all I wanted was a chance to pull back, to take a breath--

I pulled back, opening my mouth to ask him to wait a moment, to pause. But he followed me, the flood of his need unstoppable now that the gates had opened. His tongue surged between my lips, choking in its insistence--

“Rei! Stop! Give me a moment, please.”

I braced my hands against his chest, feeling his heart as wildly beneath my hands as my own pulse in my throat. My head was spinning and I still couldn’t breathe, and I’d definitely have fallen if not for his hands still around my waist. I gripped his arms at the elbows, needing to hold on, and feeling safe again now that he’d relented. It was a good sign, I hoped, that I still felt safe in his arms, but...

Well. This could hardly be the reception he’d been hoping for.

“Please don’t pull away.”

I gripped his arm and locked my eyes with him, willing him to stay, to keep himself open to me, to not take this as a rejection. The failing was on my part, and I desperately needed him to give me the time to explain that.

My words came out in a tumbled rush, as overwhelming and demanding as his kiss had been.

“Can we try that again? I want you, please understand that I want you, but Rei that was so much, how was I supposed to keep up? We’ve never done anything like that before and suddenly you want to consume me--“

“Dani, Dani stop.”

His hands were light on my waist, completely at odds with the intensity of my grip on his arms. I felt I was falling, falling, and his careful hands were the only thing holding me to earth. I cherished the feel of his hands, so why had I balked at the press of his lips?

“You’re right,” he said carefully, as if worried he would spook me. I felt how wide and wild my eyes were, so I really couldn’t blame him. “You’re right. I should have conducted myself with more decorum. I’ve wanted to do that for so long...”

He closed his eyes and drew in a steading breath, while I wondered at his words. He’d wanted to do that for so long. Had I? Had I honestly ever imagined kissing him, exploring him?

“But you’re right,” he said again. He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself. “Here and now and a million times over, I could have and should have and would have and will. I will.”

He pulled me in closer, and my breath caught at the sudden sensation of too much closeness again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said into my hair. I was glad he couldn't’ see my face, because I had no idea how to hide my panic. “You want me, and now I know. The rest... we’ll figure out.”

“Right,” I mimicked, wishing I felt his certainty. “We’ll figure it out.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes

#raev does fic #the ties that bind #my writing tag #hawksong fic #kiesha'ra fanfic #i forgot what all my other tags were #whatever its fine enough of you mad things are reading this anyways #hawksong #danica shardae #zane cobriana #andreios #oh look i remembered

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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Dasi High: Hello Grimoire

These don’t have a home yet, but I wanted to post them because I wanted to :P

Hello, grimoire... Ugh, this feels so stupid. All the books say I'm supposed to keep a journal, a magical record of my magical journey. So far, the only thing that seems magical is how freakishly white these pages are. How do I commit my stupid thoughts to something so... potent as this book? I should have started with a plain notebook. I can always copy over what feels worthy later. But I know I won't, and I'll lose whatever plain notebook I start, so this is it. I am committing to wasting a $30 journal on my stupid teenaged thoughts. So hello, grimoire. What's up, how's it hanging? Oh, I guess that's something I can actually write. Currently, the moon is hanging at a sliver til empty, a waning crescent apparently. Not the most auspicious time to start things, but that means these will just be practice runs? That by the time the moon starts waxing again, I won't feel so silly. Maybe be able to start some momentum. Yeah, I like that. I put a spell in you already, did you know? I suppose I should write that down. I sat you in between the blinds and the window last night, let you soak up what little moonlight there is and blessed you to be a vessel of wisdom. There's a poem by Jack Versy I like, I wrote it down on the inside of your bookplate. Okay, now I feel silly again. I'm telling a book about what I wrote in it. *sigh* I'm done for the day. Happy waning crescent, or whatever. See ya tomorrow.

I don't feel very magical today, and even as I think that, I know it means I need it more than ever. I'm out of balance, and if I don't do something to ground and center, the whole group will see it. That's a stupid motivation for taking care of myself, but its the one that works. I go through my morning ritual just to avoid dealing with all the questions and well meaning prodding and energy sucking pretending. I don't have it in me today. So I take the time to take a few deep breaths, pull my aura to center, and get my shit right inside because it's actually the path of least resistance.

Today, I feel vaguely like taking care of myself, so I light some candles, rinse out my water chalice, and clean the wilted flowers off my altar. Okay, dead, but they were technically dead when I put them up there in the first place. They just looked better then than they do now. Now they're just dried out, used up, and spent. I can relate. It feels good to clean them off, to let go of that which is no longer serving. It feels a little weird to just toss once sacred flowers into the garbage, but I figure all the virtue has gone out of them. If I was going to make dried flower petals or incense or whatever, I should have done that before they started to go to goosh. Now... well, just looking at them I can tell this is not an energy I was to preserve. So I toss them in the trash, and try not to feel too bad that I can't just magic them into being pretty again. Magic takes work, as I'm so painfully learning, and the energy it would take to make those pretty again is just a stupid waste. Let go, buy new ones, keep studying.

#raev does fic #dasi high #my writing #kiesha'ra fanfic

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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Frayed Knots: Kel POV

They say the war between the serpiente and the avians was started over the death of a monarch. Each side claims betrayal by the other, a beloved queen or prince stabbed in the back, the other murdered in retaliation. Feather and scale tell the same tale, with only minor trivialities reversed. If they bothered to put down their weapons long enough to realize the sameness of it, they would learn these similarities are only the first of many. They might reflect on their shared language, the symbols and mythological figures only slightly adjusted from one people to the next, as the stars change position only slightly in the sky unless a truly significant amount of time has passed.

In the schemes as grand as those of the sky, they have been at war for almost no time at all.

Of course, with lives so often cut short by bloodshed, it is easy to see how a handful of centuries can seem more significant than they really are.

The stars do not change over Ahnmik, though I know they should. The heavens seem to revolve around the White City, a celestial mirror of the twisting paths down below. All lead back to the Empress Cjarsa, every step, every star, every story.

Even theirs.

Even mine.

My name is--was-- la’Kel’jaes’oisna’wimheah’ona’saniet. Dancer of the Indigo Choir, Member of the Empress’s Mercy. I have not danced since I left the island who’s song haunts my dreams. And I am now sworn to a different queen, one who should shine as brightly with golden power as my lady does with silver. I hear echoes of both in her song, see shades of the choirs when she and her serpiente mate dance.

Tuuli Thea and Naga, Danica Shardae.

Diente and alastair, Zane Cobriana.

sneska’sine, mana’ka-la’Kel. Sparrow guard in the Royal Flight, Erica Silvermead.

None of us are as we ought to be. All of us have been torn, have lost something essential, have had hopes and dreams and loves stolen away by a pointless war. But at least... at least they have each other. I...

la’Kel’halaur. la’Kel’nira.

I move through my morning exercises, shaping the forms of the soldier’s warm up with ease. They do little to chase away the dreams of the White City, but they are familiar, and they are expected. I hide among soldiers who were raised only to fight and now must learn peace. I hide among people as lost in their own skins as I.

But they are working to become whole, to mend the rift one day at a time.

What am I working towards?

I run towards tomorrow, but only because it is in the direction of away from yesterday. I do not know yet if there is any hope in it, any future. A shadow hangs over any promise that might shine in this land.

As as I complete my morning exercises, a shadow passes over the courtyard, a silhouette of too familiar wings.

Was inspired by more Backlist and Chill to play with a different part of the Kiesha’ra story. Tagging my Ties That Bind taglist cause I think this will be of interest too. If I end up actually going anywhere with this, I’ll letchall know and we decide if it needs it own bespoke list or not. But for now its just this, enjoy :)

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire

#raev does fic #kiesha'ra fanfic #frayed knots fanfic

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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Dasi High New Open?

Cracking into this fic has been a job and a half, but I think I might finally have something I like. Yes its a dream and yes that’s cliche but fuck it it works for me

But I knew that just over that dune lay a fire, and around the fire, figures danced.

Their long shadows cast out like the tails of an inverse sun, snapping and cracking like dark twins to the flames they danced around. Music made of wind and whispered pulled at me, urged me to come down, come dance, become a shadow.

I’d never once made it down to the circle.

I didn’t dream this scene every night, but I’d dreamt it often enough to be annoyed with its tantalizing tease. If I didn’t waste so much time on the stupid sands, I might finally get to see who danced in that circle. A figure always broke off, coming to meet me half way, and though I got a little closer every time--

“It’s the top of the hour, and you’re listening to WKSR!”

I smashed my hand against the alarm clock, wishing I could hurl it into the dreamscape’s flames.

Plenty, was the answer, and after a while the ennui of waking left me, and I rolled out of bed to wash the sand of sleep from my eyes.

#raev does fic #dasi high #the kiesha'ra #kiesha'ra fanfic #the kiesha'ra fic

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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Dasi High 2 of ?

All day long, all I wanted was my book. My book. I thrilled at the way the thought seemed to pulse in my head, heavy with the weight of destiny or something. It had to be some kind of strangeness at work, to put this exact book into my exact hands with my exact little name on it. Kiesha... It wasn’t exactly a sorceress’s name, but still, it wasn’t that common. Not for books that looked like they’d been buried under the sea for the last thousand years or whatever. “This should be in a museum,” ala Indiana Jones and all that. My book. It filled my chest with warmth just thinking about it.

But I kept it in my bag all through school, even during lunch. No Coke, greasy pizza, or nosy teachers were going to threaten my ancient tome. I wasn’t an idiot. I was going to keep it safe until I got home.

Safely ensconced in my beautiful window seat, the envy of all book lovers and cat nappers everywhere, I savored the moment, feeling the heft of the book in my lap, breathing deep of its good, good book smell. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a technophobe, but books man--nothing compares to the feel of thick pages beneath your hands, the crinkle, the earthy smell. Yeah. There was a reason Brass thought I might be into it, namesake notwithstanding.

The cover was plain, well-worn, shiny and slick to the touch with the press of so many hands before. The finish had worn off the lettering and embellishments, but fingers could trace the rise and indents of them. I suddenly wondered if I should be handling something so hold, then realized I had no idea how old it even was. Oh well. Brass’s mom wouldn’t have let him have it if it was priceless, right? With a steadying breath, I cracked the cover.

The glue had long since stopped holding the pages in, but the binding was still sound. Maybe I’d ask Donte or Nalini later if either of them knew anything about repairing old bindings. They were both always doing handsy stuff, Donnie with his computers, and Nani with eir soaps and stuff. Surely one of them would know something, or be able to point me in the right direction. For now, I gingerly laid the cover open in my lap and turned the pages with a reverence I almost never felt for anything. I hadn’t been this careful with a book since my Sandman hardcover omnibus I got for my last birthday.

Enough stalling. It was time to read.

I was surprised to note my own reluctance. I’m not usually one for drama, but this... it just felt heavy. Important. Like it mattered.

The front endpaper had a yellowed bookplate pasted in, painted with an elegant symbol or crest or something I didn’t recognize. It looked almost like a stick figure of someone dancing, arms reaching up and stance wide--except there were weird branches coming off, like cursive flourishes. Maybe it was a signature? If so it wasn’t in any language I could read. I suddenly panicked at the thought that I wouldn’t be able to read any of it, aside from my name, and eagerly turned the page, anticipation mixing with dread.

But instead of a title page, or anything even printed, it was another handwritten page, like a dedication, or maybe a poem or something. It was written in the same kind of cursivey, wavy letters as the bookplate, and with growing anxiety I turned to the next page.

The family tree.

Thin, spidery hand writing covered the pages, faded, but definitely in the familiar English characters. Arabic? Or was the for numbers? Whatever. I could read it, that was what mattered. It was hard to parse, just as it had been at school, but I found the letters of my name quickly, and my finger hovered over the page, tracing the line down. Don...Donovan? Sisal... Salem... It was almost impossible to make out, save for the ever-clear Kiesha. Almost like that was the only part I was meant to read. I stared at the whole page, trying to let my eyes go soft focused, to see if anything else jumped out at me, but the longer I looked, the harder to read it became. I gave up and turned the page.

A list of names and dates followed, like you’d expect from an almanac. But instead of useful things like “March 3rd” or “Spring Equinox” it said things like, “the fourth night of cheres” or “the eve of Namir-da”. It was English, but just barely. I skimmed the page but quickly moved past it, eager for something that made sense.

It was hard not to let my disappoint take hold. This book had felt so special--it was special, just... not what I’d been expecting. Recipes, as Brass had said, and almanacy things, lie when to plant, but nothing that gave me any sense of wonder, or importance. I was just about to give up when I finally came across a section written in plain English.

They say the time has come. I have been given the family book, and told its mine to keep. But what I am expected to do with it, I cannot say. I have nothing of my own to add. I am not even the oldest of the family line. But I feel I should write something, to mark the occasion if nothing else. So here I do write, on this, the first of August, in the year seventeen hundred and seventy-one, that I, Kiera Cortana, am now in charge of the family book, for better or for worse.

Whoa. Now that was seriously cool. I flipped back to the family tree, to see if I could find Kiera. There, near the bottom, Kiera Cortana, 1753. Neat. That made her... seventeen, eighteen when she wrote her entry? Wow. Barely any older than me. That warm tingle started again, that sense of connection, and I just let my hand rest on the page, fingers just below her name. There wasn’t any more after hers, though there was room for more. Hope for the future that never came.

The warmth turned to sadness, a kind of longing I couldn’t really put my finger on. I got that way sometimes, just out of the blue. Homesick for a place that didn't’ exist. At least here I kind of got it, sad for a girl who may or may not have ever grown up. There was more after her first journal entry, but it was just more recipes and things, and more of that squiggle script I had no idea how to read. On an impulse, I got out a notebook and copied down what letters I could make out, including the symbol on the front book plate. I wanted to look at it more later, when I was stuck at school, but I didn’t want to risk bringing the actual book there. It was so old, at least three hundred. Man, Brass totally shouldn’t have let me have this. I decided to call him and give him a hard time about it.

“Hey, Ki, is everything okay?”

I frowned at the concern in his voice. “Yes, Dad, I’m fine. I’m not always in mortal danger or whatever you seem to think.”

Brass snorted. “Well I assumed you had to be in trouble since you’re calling. Normally you just text.”

Oh. Right.

“Just wanted to chat,” I said, too casually, but he'd caught me off guard. I used to call Brass all the time. It was weird to realized I’d stopped. “I’ve been looking through that book you gave me.” When in doubt, change the subject.

“Yeah? Anything good?”

I heard the sound of a sliding glass door in the background, the tell-tale sign of Brass going out to sit on the back deck. He used to do it to be near the TV antenna, hoping it would give him better cell signal. Now it was just habit. I smiled, picturing him there, long and lanky and lean, back against the side of the house as he balanced on the deck railing, one long leg trailing down...

“Kiesha?”

“Hm?”

I made a startled little noise as I came back to myself. “Oh, right. Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Did you know it was so old? There’s an entry from the 1700’s in it.”

“Oh man, really?” He sounded equal parts excited and embarrassed. “I didn’t know that. Maybe I should let Mom look at it again...”

“No way,” I teased, “It’s mine now. Has my name in it and everything.”

“It has mine too.”

His voice was so soft I almost missed it. But I scanned the page and sure enough, Brassal was on a similar line as Kiesha.

“Weird... Almost as weird as your stupid name.”

I laughed to take the edge of, both from my words and from the creeping feeling working its way up my spine. Brass had always gone by the nickname, with Brassal being reserved for his father. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me to see it in an old timey book like this; it had probably been handed down a long line of people, like Maeve’s super grandma name. But still. It freaked me, and when I got freaked, I teased. Make everyone else feel off balance and it was an even playing field again.

“Yeah, yeah, Cobriana. Tell me all about weird names.”

I stuck my tongue out, even though he couldn’t see. Still, it made me feel better. Sky blue, grass green, Brass and I teased. I had missed this. It was good to be getting it back.

“You wanna come over for pizza and movies Friday?”

It was out of my mouth before I’d really thought about it. But his hesitation made me wish I’d just kept railing on his stupid name.

“Uh, how ‘bout Saturday. I have... plans. For Friday.”

No way. No freakin way. “Don’t tell me you gave in to Izzy,” I said with a disinterest I didn’t quite feel. “You know she’s only sharpening her claws on you for a real takedown.”

“Don’t be like that, Ki. Isadora can do what she wants, with who she wants.”

I mocked “Isadora,” in as childish a tone as I could manage. No one called her that, not even Izzy herself. Except Landon. But Landon was cyborg and completely incapable of using contractions or imprecise grammar, like ever.

“And what she wants is apparently to play kissy face with Serv, for all the good that’ll do her.”

“Serv?!” I could not keep the surprise out of my voice. Serv was like, canonically asexual. Or at the very least, not interested in someone as bubblegum pop as Izzy.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Brass said. “I didn’t ask, not that that stopped her from volunteering. Apparently they’re driving into the city to see a show or something.”

“Okay....” Izzy on a date with Servos. What an odd couple. I couldn’t fathom what sort of attraction would hold interest for both of them. But then, if such a thing existed, it would be in the city, not in this whole in the wall town. We didn’t even have a mall. “Well, good for them, I guess. So what about your mysterious plans?”

Brass groaned. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten. ”

“Nope. Spill it.”

He sighed. “I’m going to the movies... with Syfka.”

I gaped. “You’re joking. You’re joking! Why on earth would you want to go to the movies with her--xem?”

I was normally better with Syfka’s pronouns than this, but it was hard not to think of anyone out on date with Brass as anything but a her--a her he might want to kiss. Trying to apply that mental box to Syfka, of all people--

“Because--” Brass cut through my thoughts, “we have a project due, and it was either write a paper on a French film, or try to speed read through a work of French literature that I have zero hope of understanding because its kind of my worst subject.”

Oh. Right. School stuff. A perfectly reasonable reason to go to the movies with someone.

“Right. Okay. Yeah. So, does that mean you need to stay in and write it on Saturday.”

Brass laughed, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was at my expense.

“Nah. Come Saturday night, I’ll either be done, or I’ll be failed. Either way, pizza and a movie sounds great.”

“Okay...”

I couldn’t shake the little tight feeling in my chest. This call had thrown me. Everything about Brass seemed to throw me lately.

“Why don’t you invite Nikki over too? Or maybe Maeve?”

My toes curled under at that last. Maeve may or may not have been the reason Brass and I finally broke up. I hadn’t decided yet. Either way, I couldn’t imagine him volunteering to hang out with her.

“I wouldn’t subject you to that....”

“Ki, I told you I’m alright with it. Have her over, see if you still feel all tingly.”

I laughed, but it was hardly humorous. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to get my flirt on in front of you.”

I could feel him shrug through the line, that careless raise of a shoulder that meant everything and nothing.

“You’re too shy to do it yourself. I’m just gonna keep inventing reasons to get you two together until you get over yourself. Or she asks you.”

“Brass!”

But now I was really laughing, and his goal was achieved. I felt better, so he felt better. Stupid big brother mother hen. I smiled through the rest of the phone call, chatting about everything and nothing, and feeling more like myself than I had in a long time.

Raev’s general tag list: As always, let me know if you want to be added or removed or whatevs (especially since this is kind of a far cry from what I usually do)

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @faithfire @apollon-arium @thehellinsideyourhead @raenawrites @adventuresofacreesty @anika-writes.

#dasi high #kiesha'ra fanfic #kiesha cobriana #I've been threatening this hawksong fanfic for years #raev does fanfic

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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The Ties That Bind 5 of ???

Prepping my guards to meet Zane was one thing; prepping myself...

I drew a deep breath, focusing on the way it filled my lungs, expanded my chest. Breathing this way mirrored the beat of my golden hawk’s wings, and did much to calm me. It was too great a show of nerves to display in my avian court, but out here, in the dark, with only my three fellow co-conspirators to see me--

It still felt like too much, but I was about to willingly approach Zane Cobriana, with his sister’s signet ring in my hand.

I’m afraid everything I have to offer you will be somewhat bloodstained.

Zane’s words had a way of replaying in my mind, again and again. He had a beautiful voice, rich in tones and timbre, and put to good effect. It was clear he was a man who was accustomed to addressing people, and to having those people listen. When I spoke to my generals, it was with a muddled mix of bargaining, pleading, and command I wasn’t certain would be heeded. When Zane ordered his people to back down, had they listened? Had that party Cadmia and her flight found in the woods really been an ambush? And if it had, was it with or without their monarch’s blessing?

And what would happen to them when their rulers finally returned?

Because for Zane to be waiting here, at this farmhouse on the edges of our respective territories, he must not have returned home to the serpiente palace yet. No, he had come straight to me, on Elanor’s wings, to deliver this engagement ring.

I think I could learn to love you, Danica, impossible as it seems.

Serpents love pretty things too, did you know that my lady?

I knew I was beautiful, with a finely crafted body colored in all shades of gold. The clothes my clever Elanor devised for me walked the perfect line between elegance and functionality, beauty and modesty. And Zane hadn’t been shy about admiring what her handiwork put on display--but was that enough? He’d suggested we both keep our own lovers; had he meant it? And in what possible capacity? The indolent serpiente might accept a figurehead queen while another woman grew round with their next prince--whether of Zane’s own get or his sister’s--but if I were to attempt such a thing? How would it even be done? An alastair’s oaths were some of the most binding of our peoples--and spoken from a royal tongue in the heart of Hawk’s Keep, even more so. I might literally lose some of my powers as queen if I became forsworn.

Of course, if we were no longer at war, my powers would no longer be needed on the battlefield.

But the gift to soothe and lightly heal with song was too important to be parted with. The Shardae sang strength to more than just soldiers--when there were more of us, we sang at every birth, every wedding, every sickbed, every funeral.

One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth...

“My lady?”

Elanor lightly touched my shoulder, startling me. The three of them had clearly felt the magic of my promise to them as future queen, and had doubtless been giving me the space to commune with my powers. But Elanor was right; the night was wearing on. And Zane was waiting. - The scene in the farmhouse was almost too surreal for belief.

Zane Cobriana, Arami of the serpiente, was serving as a yarn swift.

Hands held a careful width apart, he held the strands that Elanor’s aunt was quickly winding onto the noddy. It was clear she was working with a swiftness, but just as clear that it wasn’t from unease. It looked for all the world that she was simply trying to free him up from his woolen prison, so that he could attend to his proper duties as a monarch.

Zane looked as if his duties as a yarn horse were just as a pressing, and was giving the threads his complete attention, even as he sat relaxed in chair and chatted with the weaving women.

“And so the siblings chased each other across the sky, Kain pounding after his sister Kaya, who kept spilling fire as she ran, painting the sky with light, and earning outraged shouts from her brother with each drop spilled-- hold.”

That last was for his guard, the white viper from the camps. I almost surprised to find just the pair of them, instead of the entire entourage, but I was not surprised that this was the guard who stayed with her prince.

I’m sure you don’t expect me to come to you as pure as the driven snow either.

His guard could have been carved of ice, for all her hard strength and cold beauty. She’d gone from indolently bored against one wall to trembling bow-taunt just behind him. Her fingers hovered near her thighs, and the pair of knives strapped there. Her perfectly white hair bristled around her, like a cat making itself large in the face of threat.

Or like a magician raising power.

“I said hold, Adelina. You are not to strike someone who wears a Cobriana ring.”

Her gaze flicked to my hands, which were empty of jewelry and half-raised as one approached a wild animal. In fact it was Elanor who had carried the ring; I had not yet dared take it back from her. I wondered if that detail would prove to be a terrible oversight. Zane’s words had a similar of formality to the oath’s I exchanged with my people.

But Adelina’s gaze went from me to my two Ravens, with their full kit of armor and weaponry.

“My Arami--“

“Don’t, Addie. We’re all just here to talk.”

We were hardly just hear to talk, especially given his comments about the Cobriana ring. But Adelina dropped into what I could assume was a soldier’s parade rest, and I felt the men behind me release their own ready tension.

Of course, that didn’t stop them from flanking me as I stepped farther into the room.

I watched Adelina flinch, and felt us all react to her reaction. I bit back a weary sigh. How were we supposed to get anything done if all our attentions were on each other’s actions.

“Gentleman, he rode all this way to continue our peace talks.” I put heavy emphasis on the word “peace”. “Kindly stop treating this kitchen as a battlefield. Aunties Lyssia, thank you for opening your home to us. Arami Zane, thank you for coming to continue our talks. I am sorry the circumstances of them have been so inconvenient.”

Zane rose from his seat to give a smooth bow--though he never took his eyes off my guards as he did so.

“Good evening, Danica. Our dear aunties have been excellent hosts--and I’ve admired their works on our dancers.”

I blinked at that, caught utterly off guard. I know Elanor had mentioned trading food for fine cloth, but still. It had startled me--and from the look in Zane’s eyes, I couldn’t help but feel it had been meant to.

Suddenly, I was much less nervous. I was tired of being discounted, ignored, placated, and now made fun of? I was Tuuli Thea, and marriage to him or not, I would be queen, and I would be treated as such.

“Ladies Lyssa, is there somewhere I might talk to Zane in private?”

The protests all rose at once, reminding me too much of Mistari hall. I drew on the power of my voice to raise it above all the rest.

“I am Danica Shadae, heir to the Tuuli Thea. The only person in the room who is even remotely qualified to argue with me is Zane Cobriana himself. And as I believe he intends to propose marriage to me, it is within my right to demand a little privacy for this intimate moment.”

I admit to enjoying the shocked silence that followed. The look on Adelina’s face, however, made my blood run as cold as the icy fury in her winter blue eyes.

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @apollon-arium @raenawrites @adventuresofacreesty

#raev does fic #hawksong fic #kiesha'ra fanfic #the ties that bind #Hawksong #the kiesha'ra #zane cobriana #danica shardae #andreios

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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The Ties That Bind 8 of ???

Elanor was sent off with the Cobriana ring--Sisal’s ring, my ring--and a letter written in my hand to take back to the Keep. I insisted a guard go with her and Raymond, Vasili’s cousin, volunteered. I agreed with the choice that the less even tempered Emune stay with us. He’d done nothing distrustworthy, but the way he watched Adelina made me want to keep him close. I trusted Raymond to see Elanor back to the Keep safely, and to ensure my words were delivered to Andreios’s hands.

Why Andreios, and not my mother? Because I didn’t trust her anymore.

I loved my mother, I truly did. And I believe everything she did that felt so stifling to me was out of love as well, and overprotectiveness. She had told me it was time for me to become Queen. Well, a queen didn’t ask for her mother’s permission. She let the captain of her guard oversee her safety, and had her staff carry out her orders. My mother wasn’t needed in this decision.

And, I wanted to see what she and my generals would do.

I needed to know if I could trust those who had led in war to follow me into peace. This week at the Lyssia farm would show me much, and Zane and I could adjust our plans accordingly.

Zane and I. Our plans. It still seemed so ludicrous. But the cobra stayed by my side, making small sounds here and there as I drafted my letter, making suggestions rather than corrections, which I greatly appreciated. This was the hardest letter I’d ever drafted in my life. Having help was very welcome.

I gave Andreios specific orders on who and how many he could bring, knowing that he would come himself--and hoping he remembered our old signal of the vase of roses I’d carefully moved to the trunk of my bed before fleeing--and that there was no way the heir to the Tuuli Thea would be allowed to spend a week in the outer territory unguarded.

Especially once he got to the part about me doing so with Zane Cobriana.

I couldn’t help but remember the look of betrayal on his face when I’d thrown myself between him and Zane. I wondered if I’d have to do it again.

This week would tell me so many things.

As we exited the Lyssia bedroom, surrendering it to its proper owners, the ladies of the house made some fuss about letting us keep it. Zane and I both demured, him with considerably more cool than myself, me knowing it wouldn’t be long until Andreios arrived. I’d have a long night of aruging with him on my hands, I knew. Unless I was willing to play the absolute monarch like my mother did. I tried not to do that with Rei. I didn’t have enough friends to risk the ones I did.

I realized with a start that I’d mentally put Zane on that very short list. Not a good friend, by any means, but... Well, I’d asked for an ally, and he seemed to be doing his best to do just that. I’d spent so long being told my place, having to push and claw for every liberty and point that I’d started thinking of anyone on my side as a friend. Zane was a fellow monarch, an equal. I didn’t know him well enough yet to be friends.

But surprisingly, I wanted to. Every interaction I’d had with him, Zane had opened up. Alarmingly quickly, by avian standards. He was so ready to talk about his pain, his losses, his vulnerabilities, his dreams. Maybe I was projecting, but he seemed as hungry for a friend as I was.

Maybe friendship was enough.

I felt my cheeks heat at the foolishness of the thought, especially as I looked up and realized I’d lose track of Zane. Emune hadn’t, and I’d simply trusted my guard to have my back. That was beyond foolish; the serpiente could move so frighteningly quick--

No, I stopped myself. It wasn’t foolish.

It was trust.

I turned to offer Zane a tentative smile, to show him this small blossom of trust--

and found him with Adelina.

They weren’t touching--they weren’t even being that civil with each other, I noticed--but their movements spoke of bodies well familiar with one another, moving seamlessly to set up their bedrolls by the fire as they quietly bickered.

That is not a man unfamiliar with your body.

My flush deepened, and I’d have given anything for the guard at my back to be Andreios instead of Emune. What must he think of all this, his mad future queen and these bickering serpents.

What would the rest of the court think of me.

It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter, not really. But... it did. It didn’t matter to me, personally, but it would affect my ability to lead. The Shardaes were well loved, for their patronage of the arts and their generosity with all their had--and their gifts of song. That, more than anything else I knew, was what kept us in the hearts of the people. That lingering kiss of magic that cast the mind back to our mythical hawk queen--one who danced, Zane said, over a serpiente symbol.

My head was beginning to hurt.

I turned my back to the arguing couple--and they were most certainly a couple--by the fire and addressed Emune.

“I assume you’ll want to keep a watch rather than sleep?”

He nodded, his habit to remain more or less mute, I supposed. I bit back a sigh.

“I figured as much. Then I shall nap in the rocker, until Rei--Captain Andreios comes.”

I knew better, I really did. But what I wanted was Rei, not Captain Andreios. I wanted to talk to my best friend, to unravel the tangle of my thoughts in the retelling of them, and maybe, I added guiltily, spend a few minutes in his arms. Just for the comfort of it but--well, Zane was in his favorite pair of arms. Why shouldn’t I retreat to mine?

Because he wants to take you as his...mate. I realized I still didn’t know the word. If it had been just me and Zane, I might have asked him. But I wouldn’t interrupt he and Adelina for the world.

“That can’t be comfortable.”

Zane’s words cut through my thoughts, startling me in my rocker. I blinked owlish eyes at him, head absolutely scattered.

I realized, belatedly, that I was looking at him alone. Adelina wasn’t in his bedroll. She was perked grumpily on the raised edge of the hearth, back to the fire and her Arami, eyes locked on Emune. Her gazed flicked to me and Zane as we spoke, but she never uncrossed her arms, or moved from her tightly coiled lounge against the stone. She looked just like Zane had in the camps, I realized. Was it from physical familiarity, or a mark of some serpiente style they both trained in?

“I said,” Zane said again, tearing my thoughts from Adelina and all that violent potential, “That can’t be comfortable. If you’re tired, Danica, come lay down.”

My eyes darted around the room, to Emune, to Adelina, to the door I just knew Rei would come through the moment I laid down--if I lay down. Not a chance.

Zane laughed, and it sounded bitter, and tired. Had I spoken that last out loud?

“To public for you to relax, pretty Danica?”

I gave him narrowed eyes. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say my name like that, like its some kind of title. And like I won’t know which Danica you mean, if you don’t inclue ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’. Is there some other Danica I should be aware of?”

To my utter shock, it was Adelina who laughed. Zane shot her a dirty look, and Emune almost jumped out of his skin, but I just stared, enchanted by the startling sound, as cold and hard as the rest of her.

“She has you there, my Arami. She may be a better match for you than I thought, if she sees through you this easily.”

I blushed and looked at my lap, unable to think of anything to say. Besides, she wasn’t technically addressing me.

Of course, then she did.

“Lay down with him, brave Danica. I won’t bite, and I won’t let him bite you either.”

I felt my eyes bug from my head. I felt more than saw Emune react, and I halted him with a raised hand. Drawing my composure around me like the armor it was, I raised my eyes to Adelina.

“I understand you are very familiar with your Arami.”

Zane snorted, but Adelina watched me with utterly unreadable eyes. I understood the measure she was taking of me, and did my best to live up to it.

“But I am not your Arami, or whatever the equivalent title would be, and I do not know you. I ask that you kindly refrain from teasing me until we are both comfortable with it.”

Adelina arched a perfect, pale eyebrow. “Ask?”

I nodded, chin held high. “Yes, ask. You are not of my court; it is not my place to rule you. But I thought I’d do you the courtsey of asking directly, rather than dragging your Arami into it. I assumed you’d prefer to speak directly, since you felt so comfortable doing so a moment before.”

Her lips thinned, and I couldn’t tell if it was in displeasure or to supress a smile. But she inclined her head right back and settled back against the stones.

“Very well, Lady Shardae. I will refrain from being so familiar with you, until we’re all comfortable with one another.”

I didn’t care for that parting shot at all. There was mockery in it, and implications I didn’t quite know how to untangle. I knew I was being made fun of, challenged, but so indirectly that I didn’t know how to counter it. But Adelina didn’t seem to expect any response, closing her eyes and resting her head back against the warm hearthstones.

I didn’t look at either of the men, instead choosing to mirror Adelina’s repose. I’d both passed and failed this first test, of that I was sure. But I didn’t know how to make use of my new allyship with Zane to figure it out while we were all waiting so tensely for the Royal Flight to come.

Oh feathered furies.

That’s what they’d been arguing about.

Adelina, Zane’s only guard, had surely been unhappy at the idea of being outnumbered three to one--because I had been adamant in my letter that no more than four guards be on the grounds at any given time. I knew I couldn’t keep Rei from bringing scouts, and this was avian territory after all, but I could and would limit how crowded this small farmhouse would get, and I’d thought four was a reasonable compromise. That’s how many usually walked with me in the fields, and this was simply the fields.

But Adelina had no reinforcements coming.

And her King--her beloved prince and personal lover--had told her to shut up and sleep on it. Or whatever words he’d actually used. I’d assumed a lovers’ spat because that was how I saw her first, the obvious lover I was going to surplant, and least publicly. Zane had all but said he’d keep lovers, and--oh skies above, this was all so stupid. We could never be lovers. I could daydream about what it might be like to kiss those lips, or let myself lay down beside him and that tempting fireplace. But Adelina knew the real thing, and there was no way I could ask her to give him up just to save a little face. For all I knew, the serpents wouldn’t care one way or another.

And as I’d said to Zane, they wouldn’t like him one way or another. A mistress on the side was the least of Zane’s villanies, in the court’s eyes.

But again, there were those vows to be upheld. Oaths really did bind the strength of the Tuuli Thea to the service of her people, and every oath sworn to or by her helped strengthen her magic. We were all hoping my powers would grow when I took the throne--part of why my mother had decided to step down. Her own gifts lay more in veils and illusions, in tricking the mind to be at peace, and not notice the thing she didn’t want noticed. Mine lay in comfort, and the mending of small wounds and illnesses. I had hoped against hope when I held Gregory that my gifts could give him enough life for his own magic to do the rest. But Cobriana magic, it seems, did not line in healing. Or at least, that prince’s hadn’t.

I wondered what powers Zane had, and if they had any use outside of battle.

And maybe he had none, I reminded myself. Just because the falcon monarchs had magic and the avian monarchs had magic, and the tales of Cobriana on the battlefield seemed like magic, didn’t mean it followed that Zane had any gifts. Goddess, my own younger brother Xander could only sing away the noticing of pain, and conceal tropes that did not move. Only if they stood perfectly still, and numbered less than a score, could Xander keep his people from sight. It had been hoped his gifts would grow on the battlefield--

Instead they were lost, he was lost, wasted. Just so much spilt blood.

I must have fallen asleep without realizing it, my thoughts of blood turning to dreams of blood. Because I woke with a strangled cry of “Zane no!” as Andreios shook me awake.

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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The Ties That Bind 1 of ???

They say the first of my kind was a woman named Alasdair, a human raised by hawks. She learned the language of the birds, and was gifted with their form. It is a pretty myth, I admit, but few actually believe it. No record remains of her life. No record except for the feathers in every avian’s hair, even when otherwise we appear human, and the wings I can grow when I choose--and of course the beautiful golden hawk’s form that is as natural to me as the legs and arms I wear normally. This myth is one of the stories we hear as children, but it says nothing of reality or the hard lessons we are taught later. Almost before a child learns to fly, she learns to hate. She learns of war. She learns of the race that calls itself the serpiente. She learns that they are untrustworthy, that they are liars and loyal to no one. She learns to fear the garnet eyes of their royal family even though she will probably never see them. Of course, I have. I have seen them look to me in fear and pain, a young prince’s final moments. I have seen them look at me in consideration, a new ruler sizing up the woman who would be his enemy. And I have seen them beneath me, cushioned on a pillow of down, soft as my own hair. They taught me how to hate those eyes. No one taught me how to read them.

Danica Shardae, Tuuli Thea

The Mistari Disa spoke to the entire hall as she concluded, “The best advice I can offer is this: Tie the two royal families. Make the two sides into one. If you are willing to trust each other, and willing to put aside your anger and your hatred, then Zane Cobriana, take Danica Shardae as your mate. Danica Shardae, have Zane Cobriana as your alistair.”

The Disa’s words rang in my head as I dressed for bed, numb and mechanical. The serpiente prince had cried out as vehemently as the rest, as I had sat in shocked silence. The rest had reacted; I had observed. I watched garnet eyes flash with temper, right alongside normally sedate avian gold. But I also watched Zane’s face crumple as the Disa kicked us out, his desperate hand reaching as if he could see the fleeting peace slipping through his fingers even as he struggled to grasp it.

Take Zane Cobriana as your alistair.

I still couldn’t process the idea. “Alistair” was a word that meant so many things to me, none of which matched the fiery cobra. My first alistair, Vasili, had been taken from me too young to truly remember him. And after that, alistair was a word most often followed by the ragged grief of a newly made widow.

It was not a word I could fathom associating with Zane Cobriana.

I realized my hands had been working the same button over and over. I shook myself, trying to return to reality, to keep moving through this latest shock. My composure was shot to hell, and I jumped when a knock sounded at my door.

“Shardae?”

The familiar voice of long-time personal guard--oh, hell, my best friend, sounded through the door. Rei had been the most outspoken at the Disa’s suggestion, and he hardly sounded calmer now, though at least he was hiding it better. Shaky, and craving the comfort of his familiar presence in this unfamiliar place, I bid him enter.

He paused in the doorway, and I watched his face as a thousand thoughts chased their way behind his eyes. Already I felt better, just seeing him as shaken as I. Rei had been my friend since childhood, and was the only person I ever truly relaxed around. I had seen him in his grief for his father, lost when he was but a boy of twelve. He had seen me cry over countless deaths, until I had grown up enough to no longer let the tears show. We knew the shape of each other’s grief; and we knew how important it was to have somewhere safe to let it out, to be weak. He was weak with me now, and I sank into that uncertainty gratefully.

“Dani,” he breathed, only after the door was closed firmly behind him. “I’m sorry I lost my temper in the hall today. It’s my fault we were banned from further discussion.”

I straightened my shoulders, gathering my strength as he fell apart. We did this in turns, my Rei and me, being rock and crash wave alike.

“I don’t believe you were the only one shouting,” I said lightly, fighting back the shiver that threatened at the memory of those flashing garnet eyes. Zane had been exquisite in his anger, a fine, shimmering thing. It had been beautiful, and terrifying, like a lightning strike. I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to stop my reaction.

Rei mistook the gesture for fear, and I suppose that was in there too, and placed his hands over mine. It was utterly too forward, unspeakably inappropriate, and far from the first time. Rei and I had always been each other’s exceptions, our refuge for strength and comfort. I leaned into him, resting my forehead against his chest. His arms encircled me, fitting around me perfectly through years of habit. I had grown since that first night we’d curled up together, frightened and alone and crying ourselves to sleep, and so had he. But we’d grown together, and his arms still fit around mine as I held myself and tried to keep from falling apart.

This. This was what an alistair should be. This feeling of warmth, of solidness, of safety.

Rei would be my alistair, and I would grow to love him in that way, in time. And even if I never did, friendship was still well worth protecting.

Alistair.

Protector.

Fighter.

My thoughts flashed on Zane Cobriana again, reaching out for the fleeting dream of piece. He was willing to fight for that dream. And I was cowering in the arms of a man I was too afraid to love, for fear of losing him.

Losing him to the war we were here to stop.

I must have tensed, because Rei pulled back, searching my face.

“Dani... You know I care for you, and I’ll always protect you. The thought of the snake coming anywhere near you...”

His hands flexed on mine, grip growing uncomfortably tight. I pulled away and he let me go, falling back into that careful soldier’s ready. The moment had passed. Time to put our weakness away.

“We’ll find a way, Shardae. I should go, let you sleep. Things will look brighter in the morning.”

I wished I had the courage to ask him to stay, to tell him that a night in his arms would bring me more comfort than the tossing and turning I knew was sure to come. I always slept better in Rei’s arms. But we hadn’t done that in years. And until I was ready to declare formally what the entire court already knew, he would keep his careful distance, expect in rare moments like this.

I closed my eyes, and I wished I could remember how to cry. - I began to undress again, but a flicker of movement caught my eye--

And suddenly I was face to face with garnet.

Zane Cobriana stood in my room, stepping elegantly from shadows and moonlight.

His hand was on my mouth before I could draw breath, the other cradling the back of my head.

“Please, I’m terribly sorry, but we need to talk, and so I need you not to scream.”

I stared at him wide-eyed, eyes lingering on impossible details--the stray strands of hair that fell across his face, the thick, sweeping curve of his stunningly dark lashes--as the world paused between one heartbeat and the next. I was utterly frozen, drowning deep in radiant red, the hypnotic gaze of the Cobriana garnet.

My people told stories of this gaze, the near-demonic power to enchant and posses. I forgot to breathe, drinking down those eyes, edges tight with pain. Pain... Zane Cobriana looked pained. It was barely there, just a tightness around the eyes, but his eyes were all I could see. We were not but a breath apart, and all I could do was gaze into those eyes, and nod.

Zane nodded to, head moving with mine as if uncertain of the motion’s meaning. Finally, he gave one certain shake, mind made up. He sprang away from me, leaping to the far side of the room as he released me, falling into a warrior’s ready. I just stared, mind refusing to process. Zane Cobriana had snuck into my room, and he was crouched and on guard against me.

“What.... what do you want?”

My mouth was cotton dry as I struggled to speak, tongue darting out to wet paper lips. They tingled with the memory of Zane’s fingers, soft and cool, so delicate, but so firm...

“To talk.”

He hedged his words, carefully controlled and guarded, just like his posture. But when I didn’t scream, or really react in any way, he relaxed, pulling himself up into a liquid, wary posture. Those elegant hands disappeared into pockets, but the underlying tension in his shoulder belied the casual gesture. He was a coiled spring, and no amount of leaning carelessly against the wall would disguise that.

I shook myself mentally, trying to come to grips with this fevered dream. No, no dream. In my dreams, I was often painfully aware I was dreaming, and able to pull together my careful avian reserve. Here, in this moonlit room, I was wide awake, and utterly lost.

“Won’t... won’t you sit down?”

Internally, I shrieked at myself. The mortal enemy of me and my kind had broken into my room for goddess knows what purpose, and I was observing social niceties. Won’t you sit down? What was the matter with me?

Zane smirked, a sardonic twist of his sculpted lips. My mind kept focusing on the most inane details--the perfect press of his cupid’s bow, the strong line of his jaw--as he folded himself elegantly onto a cushion. His long legs glittered in the moonlight and for a moment I thought he must have been in armoured form. But no, merely snakeskin pants. My gut filled with ice. The prince of the serpiente in snakeskin pants. Yikes.

“Why thank you, Danica. May I call you Danica?”

Mutely I nodded, sinking down onto my own sleeping pallet. I watched myself in bemused horror, like an out of body nightmare, as I sat and calmly waited for the prince of the serpiente to say his piece. Then again, compared to his dramatic entrance to my bedroom, this behavior was rather sedate. Formal even. The manners between us seemed almost absurd.

“Then you must call me Zane,” he insisted. I realized this casual chatter was his own nervousness, as my mute manners were mine. Neither of us really knew how to handle one another, and that somehow gave me courage. If he was shaken too, that somehow put us on more even foot.

“Alright... Zane. What did you come to talk about?”

He chuckled, the sound rolling through the dark like velvet. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, and madly, half expected Rei to wrap his hands around mind. Had only been moments ago that Rei had been in my room? If Zane had come any sooner--

“We were thrown out of the Mistari hall quite abruptly. And in all likelihood the same will happen tomorrow unless we have a chance to properly discuss their suggestion beforehand,” he said lightly, cutting through my thoughts. They scattered like early morning fog, as thin and ephemeral and impossible to hold onto. If he thought we were going to make any more progress here than we had in the hall, he was sorely mistaken. I couldn’t think my way out of an egg like this. If I’d been able to, I probably would have screamed for my guards by now. Really, it was only the utter bizarreness of the situation that had kept me from doing so already. We never trained for what I should do in the event of a security breach. In the Keep, it was unthinkable. And in the fields, I was quite literally surrounded at all times.

Zane had found my security’s one weak spot.

My blood ran cold.

“Are you here to kill me?”

Zane gave me a tired look and sighed.

“I just said I was here to discuss peace with you, Danica.” He shook his head. “What is even the point. How can they possibly expect us to entertain marriage when you’re too frightened to even talk to me?”

“I’m not--“

I snapped without thinking, pride pricked. He’d broken into my room, assaulted me--of course I was startled, I was also exhausted. At his chagrined look, I realized I’d actually spoken those thoughts aloud.

“Of course. It’s late. I apologize for any offense.”

I laughed. “Offense? Offense? Offensive was the way you acted so utterly repulsed at the mere thought of marrying me. This? I don’t believe there are words to cover what this is.”

Zane snorted. “I suppose that’s fair. If it was only a matter of your lovely body, well.” His eyes flicked up and down my frame, and I felt my cheeks turn scarlet. “And I’ve seen you have no trouble with mine, either.”

At that my face caught fire, enough that surely the room should have been ablaze with light. I clenched my fists in my lap and locked my gaze to the floor, counting slowly to ten. Shouting at him would bring my guards crashing in here for sure. And he had a point; we did need to talk. If we broke into a shouting match tomorrow, the Disa would simply kick us out again.

“Comments like that are also why we could never work,” I said hotly. “An avian alistair defends his pair bond’s virtue, not mocks it.”

“And is your pretty guard captain to be your pair bond, then?”

At that my eyes flew to his in complete shock. “Wha--“

“Oh don’t play coy, pretty Danica. I saw the way he held you. That is not a man unfamiliar with your body.”

I could only stare at him in open mouthed horror. Zane went on as if he didn’t notice.

“It’s not a deal breaker for me. I’m sure you don’t expect me to come to you as pure as the driven snow either. Keep him, for all I care. We both have heirs to produce, after all.”

Heirs?

Again, I must have spoken aloud, because Zane seemed to stop midthought, changing his words at the last moment.

“You’re the only Shardae left,” he said softly. “I at least have my sister and... her child.”

His gaze felt, soft and uncertain.

“Her announcement is what finally convinced me. I’ve already lost one sister with child to a soldier’s knife. I cannot bear to lose another. Irene was so frightened when she told me--“

His voice cut off with emotion. The strangled sound reminded me too much of Gregory.

I rose, not certain what I intended, but it was lost to Zane’s reaction anyways. The serpiente was off the wall and crouched almost before I’d finished standing, and his speed took my breath away. I cried out in spite of myself-- and the guards came pouring in.

Zane’s form flashed to lightning black, the shift to his cobra form nigh instantaneous. I threw myself forward, blocking Rei’s movement into the room, shielding him from Zane’s attack. It was utterly stupid, and pure instinct. I threw myself between the man that would be my protector, and the man who would pay lip service to the job in the name of peace. But Zane did not attack, rather doing on the evasive than the offensive. His liquid form shot between the soliders’ legs, gone and lost in the shadows before anyone could truly tell what had happened.

Rei stared into my eyes, lost in utter bewilderment. Neither of us knew what to make of my throwing myself before him, breaking every rule of our working relationship. I hadn’t acted as his queen. I’d acted as his dearest friend.

Rei reacted as my guard, pushing me aside and scouring the room with his eyes. Checking to make sure the room was secure before checking to be certain I was unhurt. The guards scattered around the room and hall, people spilling out at the noise and ruckus. Zane appeared behind a wall of guards, Mistari standing firm between the avians and serpiente. The tigers ushered us all back into our rooms, effectively placing us all under arrest.

Locking me into the room with Rei.

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raevenlywrites · 4 years

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That Ties That Bind 4 of ???

I flew out with Elanor under cover of twilight. I noticed the guards that peeled off to trail us, just as I knew there was no help for them. We would land a discrete distance from Elanor’s aunts’ home, and I would explain to my guards as she went on ahead to prep the house.

To prep Zane.

Zane Cobriana was sitting in an avian farmhouse, with two women my family had not deemed important enough to save. Were Elanor’s aunts any more or less deserving of safety and security than Elanor’s parents, or younger sister? I couldn’t help but think of the younger brother I’d just lost, and the one Zane had as well. Bitterness rose up in my throat, a cold jealousy that Elanor’s family was mostly intact, while mine was not. I thought again of Vasili, brave and noble, but those fine traits not enough to spare him. But Elanor’s clever hands, her eye for color and detail-- Why had my parents not chosen me a tailor, or poet, or painter or jeweler. Why had my heart been given to a man almost guaranteed to die? Why couldn’t they have given me an alastair that would live?

But if they had, would I still be flying out to meet Zane Cobriana now?

Perhaps not. But perhaps, we might have stayed in the Mistari lands, and had found peace another way. Or perhaps, if my father had not been taken by this war, my mother’s heart would not have gone out of the fight, and they might both be leading us into further bloodshed yet. There were too many threads to this cloth, too many stars to this pattern. A shift in one could lead to countless futures, and no one but the mythical seers of my ancestry could say which ones could be shifted safely. And even that was probably a pretty lie, dreamed up by people who longed for a hero-queen to save them, some legendary figure who could do impossible things, like charm the secret of flight from the hawks, or sing her dreams into being. Our line still held some little of her gifts, but they were greatly diminished from the myths of what Alasdair and her brothers could theoretically do. I didn’t put much stock in myths; they were about as useful to me as my too-perfect recall in dreams. Maybe someday, a hawk would be born again than could sing a real peace into being. My day had to make do with a queen that sang peace to a dying prince, and flew out under cover of night to consult with another. -- The guards who’d come with me were relatively new Ravens; many had had to be promoted quickly to replace all those lost in the battle that had cost me my brother. So while I knew their faces, I had yet to commit to memory their names. I had to admit, I’d not made as much effort as I could have. I’d allowed myself that one small bit of fatalistic wallowing in the wake of my brother’s death. What was the point of learning any of their names, if they were only going to fall?

But it meant that now I didn’t quite now how to deal with me. On the one hand, they didn’t have quite the familiar air with me that those who had known me in my youth did. On the other, they probably felt they had something to prove. I drew myself up as regally as I could, and prepared to issue my first command as queen. Strike that, second command, and I had yet to officially take the mantle from my mother. But no one had fought me when I’d reissued the order to stand down, and this most certainly counted as an act of my reign rather than my mother’s.

“I trust you’re aware that I issued an order of non-aggression to all the Flights?”

They both nodded, and remained mute. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

I didn’t have enough experience commanding soldiers to know. I’d just have to assume it meant respect, and act as if it was a given. The Generals’ Council discounting me was to be expected, I was new, fresh, and a child in most of their eyes. But these soldiers didn’t appear to be much older than me, and they had passed the tests of skill and loyalty that Rei personally oversaw as the captain of the Royal Flight. I took a breath, and pressed on.

“I ask you both to keep that in the forefront of your mind, and your vows as members of the Royal Flight. I...” I had to be better than this. My hands were trembling like winter aspens, and I needed every ounce of control I could muster. I was honestly more terrified now than I had ever been in the fields.

“I am about to meet with Zane Cobriana, Arami of the serpiente, in an attempt to continue the talks that were halted so abruptly. I ask that you keep me safe, but refrain from any lethal action. Is this a promise you can make me?”

I don’t know where the words came from, but it felt right that I should ask them in this way. To ask them to honestly assess their abilities, and their commitment to peace. I couldn’t command the hearts of my people to change; I could only ask, and lead by example. I was willing to treat civilly with the man that would be my former enemy. If they could not do the same, then I would simply not ask them to.

I also wouldn’t allow them to accompany me.

I didn’t think it prudent to mention that just yet.

The taller of the pair stepped forward, and some trick of the light and shadows made him look hauntingly familiar. It had to be a trick of my heart, but no, his words confirmed my perceived resemblance.

“Vasili was my cousin, Shadae.”

I could absolutely see the familial lines in his face. The squareness of jaw, pressed with a faint dimple at the cleft, the hard set of his eyes under too stark a brow. I had always thought him to be scowling as a girl. Now, on his cousin’s face, I saw it was just their bone structure at work, making a neutral face seem too severe. Pain creased lines at the corners of those familiar brown eyes, and I had a flash to see the man my alastair might have become, the way pain and joy and time might have painted lines on the face I only remembered as an unfinished boy’s.

I felt tears press at the back of my throat.

Vasili’s eyes from his cousin’s face shone too bright, too wet, too wide.

The other Raven shuffled slightly, sighting on something behind us.

I turned, loss spinning quickly to fear as I remembered what awaited us, but it was only Elanor, hurrying towards us with a shuttered lantern.

I turned back to my men with a fierce hiss. “Can you swear it?”

Vasili’s cousin nodded. “I swear, my lady Shardae. The paths we’ve walked before have only led to one thing. I am willing to follow where you lead.”

“And you?”

The other Raven looked even younger, and I couldn’t help but see the echoes of the brother I’d just lost. He must be an exceptional fighter to have made it to the Royal Flight so young. Either that, or we were desperate for options.

Or perhaps he simply had a youngish face. Either way he nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. I would not let anyone in the presence of the last remaining serpiente prince without their word of oath. Words held power in avian society, real, binding power. An oath sworn to their queen would be binding, and while we normally didn’t make such demands outside of formal ceremonies, I pulled on that power now.

“Swear to me, on all the lives you’ve lost, that no more lives will be taken this night. That if you feel I am in danger, you will cover my retreat, and nothing more. No more deaths.”

The Raven swallowed, visibly paling, but nodded again.

“I swear that unless my monarch commands it, I will take no lives this night.”

I felt the power prickle, raising the feathers at the back of my neck. We spoke little of our ancestral language, the old tongue shared by avians, serpiente, and falcons alike. But remnants of it remained, in our most formal of speech, and it was with those words that I swore,

“Then I will strive to be a worthy queen, and once I have taken my vows, we will have peace.” Again, I didn’t know what had so moved me, but as I spoke the words, I felt the night echo with them, and the land accept them, as readily as it accepted my people’s blood.

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