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greyias · 2 years

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I wish you would write a fic where... Theron somehow amasses a following of actual, physical porn bots droids and shenanigans ensue

I saw this prompt come in and devolved into a fit of heinous cackling. How, oh how could I resist trying to render our collective Tumblr nightmare into fictional text form?

Context: While not required reading, this is technically a sequel to this stunning crackfic, authored so long ago. If you need a refresher on the Medical Droid Love Triangle Saga, follow this link. Or this one, which is the real villain origin story of this fic. Or don't, you're already cursed if you click beyond the read more of this post.

With special thanks to @grumpyhedgehog, @sandwyrm, @storyknitter, @kitsonpaws, and @andveryginger for providing me with ideas, cursed pornbot summaries, and many cursed HoloNet websites that should never exist. You are not required to read any of this.

Technically rated T, but in reality rated N for Nobody, because no one should have to read this. I'm packing my bags, as my ride to superhell just came. Enjoy.

It had started as such a normal day -- if you could indeed have called any day on Odessen “normal”. What with the galaxy always being at the brink of some disaster or another, and their merry little band of misfits being led by the galaxy’s most notorious do-gooder, Theron’s schedule and to-do list had a tendency to get derailed on almost a daily basis.

This, however, was not how that usually happened.

He’d paused, mid-step, finger still hovering over his datapad, mid-entry as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, slowly dawning horror washing over him. His head turned slowly, like one of those doomed characters in a horror holofilm to look at the droid he’d just passed.

It was one of the new ones that had come in on a recent shipment. So new in fact, that there was still a fleet of them in the middle of being unpacked in the Logistics Wing. Shining, tall and blue, its highly polished quadranium head pivoted to look back at him.

“What,” Theron swallowed, willing his voice to sound even and not give in to the creeping dread, “what did you say?”

“Theron Shan,” the droid repeated helpfully, “is a master lover.”

“Oh no.” The words slipped out of their own accord.

“Just a moment, sir,” the droid continued, seemingly oblivious to the human’s distress, “I’m not quite done with your evaluation yet. Let’s see, where were we?”

“No no no no.”

The round flattened dome that served as its head tilted to one side, beady orange eyes sweeping over Theron from head to toe, before resuming its cheery, if horrifying report. “Subject is an exemplary specimen. In good cardiovascular health, above average muscle tone. Tall, well-built, and very clean...”

“Um,” Theron stammered. “I’m...” Flattered? Taken? Leaving? Wait--yes, that last one. “Going now!”

He didn’t give the cursed machine any more time to continue ogling him, instead taking off down the hall at a very brisk walk that nearly bordered on a jog. His mind raced at he beat a hasty retreat, trying to understand what was happening. It had been over a year since the The Incident, dubbed by some as the “Sexy Spy Virus”, and others by much more crude names, where a little harmless reprogramming had taken on a life of its own. Theron had been meticulous in his coding of the antivirus, wanting to ensure that the entire debacle would be forgotten. There was simply no way that it could crop back in on its own.

“Theron,” the brisk accented tone of one Lana Beniko burst in over his comm, “why did a droid just feel the need to inform me that they found rust on its insides during its last tune-up?”

“I don’t know,” Theron insisted, but his words were almost drowned out by a metallic clanking echoing down the corridor.

He threw a look over his shoulder, and to his horror, saw that his robotic admirer had decided to give chase.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” he quickly said into the comm as the droid picked up speed from a walk to an all out gallop.

“Theron,” she sounded both concerned and exasperated, which, considering Lana, was about par the course, “what’s going on?”

“Save me!” He shouted as he took off a dead sprint.

In his many years in the field, Theron had been threatened, sure. Shot at? Many times. He’d been drugged. Tortured. Stabbed through the gut with a lightsaber pike and lived to tell the tale. He’d run into Sith, Revanites, bounty hunters, thugs, fanatics and cultists alike. He’d been in more firefights than he could remember, and more covert ops than he cared to. He’d even been accused of being a traitor (although that was kind of the point at the time).

None of that compared right now to being chased down by a droid yelling at top volume claiming he was the best lover it had ever seen.

And this time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t actually his fault.

He rounded the corner from the corridor leading from the Logistics Wing, passing by the Commander’s (and at this point, his) Quarters. HK-55 and Z0-0M straightened to their full height at his arrival. Oh thank the Force, allies.

“Salutations: Agent Shan, you are looking quite spry today.”

“What?” he panted as he approached.

“Yes, Agent Shan, don’t believe what anyone else is saying!” Zeeyo exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. “Your undercarriage doesn’t look rusty at all!”

Mind sharp as a tack, Theron realized the implications of this just in time, and dodged to the side, ducking and rolling as the assassin-turned-bodyguard droid lunged forward to trap him in a bear hug. Not pausing to even catch his breath, as soon as his feet hit the ground he propelled himself forward and further down the hall.

“Frustration: I only wish to profess my admiration for you, Agent Shan!”

“Nope nope nope nope!” Desperation was starting to tinge the edges of his words now.

The metallic clanking intensified as more droids behind him joined in the chase, all of their vocabulators joining in unison to tell him in one way, or another, that he was in fact, the pinnacle of sexual prowess.

Theron couldn’t run forever, despite whatever their programming was forcing them to say, his stamina would give out before the lustftul droids’ power supplies. As the corridor zigged and twisted, he saw an opening in the form of a door sliding open. Without hesitation he dove in, shoving the individual there, thankfully made of flesh and bone, aside as he slammed the door controls.

The door slid securely shut just as the thunderous clanking filled the corridor beyond, their lustful words of appreciation and encouragement nearly drowned out by the racket. Theron hadn’t bothered to look or count, but he was pretty sure that the number had risen from three in the scant moments it had taken Theron to dart from one corridor to the next.

He held up a hand to his lips as he turned to thank the person who had unwittingly provided his temporary salvation. The words of gratitude died on his lips, as he realized exactly who’s room he had sought refuge in.

For a moment, Theron truly considered surrendering himself to the lusty droid mob.

Draike Highwind’s face was caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, but the latter was winning out as he started to decipher individual phrases drifting in from the corridor. A dark brow arched higher, lips twitching with undisguised mirth as the stupid blue droid that had started this whole mess yelled once again about Theron being a master lover.

More seconds passed, the ruckus quieting down, before silence descended once more, and it was finally safe to speak.

“So,” Draike drew out the word, somehow lacing it with more innuendo than all of the malfunctioning droids combined, “what ya been doing, Shan?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, voice still hushed just in case one of the droids could somehow hear.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His brother-in-law’s smirk widened into an almost feral grin, eyebrows waggling. “Sounds like you’ve been getting... busy.”

One of the greatest mysteries in the galaxy was how one man could make anything sound that dirty. “I was minding my own business!”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I mean...” If looks could kill, the pilot would have melted on the spot. Unfortunately for Theron, Draike was apparently immune to that sort of thing. “How often do I get the chance?”

“Did you do this?”

“Me?” Draike let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Stars, I wish I could have thought of something this good! These are memories I will cherish forever.”

Theron massaged the bridge of his nose. “I hate my life.”

“I mean, I’m not really into droids,” Draike went on, either not knowing (or more likely caring) about his brother-in-law’s predicament, “flesh is more my kind of thing. But you know, if you and the little lady need to spice things up by bringing in a little metal--”

“Please stop. I’m begging you!”

“Begging, eh? So you’re saying you’re more into--“

“Forget it, I’m taking my chances with the sex-crazed machines roaming the halls.” His palm hovered over the door sensors.

“Theron, wait!” There was enough urgency in Draike’s voice to give him pause. “It’s dangerous out there, take this.”

At first, he was honestly afraid to look, expecting to be offered something like a condom or some other bad joke, but was surprised to see the other man holding out a stealth generator.

“To escape your fans.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“I know. I’m a genius.”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly nabbed the stealth generator before Draike could change his mind and frowned at the initials carved in the side in Aurabesh. “Is this even yours?”

“Eh, close enough.”

Whatever, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Theron would deal with those potential repercussions later. He flicked on the power to the stealth generator which let out a low, almost inaudible hum as a burst of life engulfed his form. He closed his eyes against the sudden burst of brightness, and when he opened them again, dark spots of the light pattern danced in his vision for a few seconds. He blinked a few more times before they faded away.

He waved an arm experimentally in front of his face, and only felt the slight movement of air. Draike didn’t seem to react at all, and that was probably good enough.

“Thanks,” he said, palming the sensor to the door.

Draike rolled his eyes and ambled out into the corridor, looking around with the air of a man all too used to hiding from those looking for him. Theron watched as he raised a hand to a very slowly moving GNK power droid.

“How’s it hanging?”

“GONK!”

“Oh yeah? You don’t say! I think I saw him head that way.” Draike pointed in the direction leading to cantina. “Just between you and me, I heard he’s sweet on that droid who’s a comfort enthusiast.”

“GONK! GONK! GONK!”

Still hidden underneath the stealth field, Theron had to bite down the urge to make any noise of frustration and just turned an invisible, irritated gaze at the other man’s back. As if sensing Theron’s irritation, Draike just grinned wider.

“Yeah, you know how those spy types are. Always toying with droids’ hearts. You could do better than him.”

“GONK!”

“Oh, you spicy droid! Yeah, trundle off that way, big guy. I’m sure you’ll catch him!”

With a loud clanking, the GNK droid began his slow and steady journey towards the cantina. As the echoes finally faded, Draike casually stretched, pointing towards the direction of the War Room.

Theron skulked on by, but not before giving his brother-in-law a well deserved whop upside the head. The stealth field flickered momentarily on the physical contact before shimmering back into place.

“It’d serve you right to get caught by doing that,” Draike sniffed indignantly, “after all I’ve done to help you.”

“When all of this is over--”

“Hush now,” Draike waved at the air in front of him. “You have bigger problems to deal with. Meanwhile, I will be heading to the cantina. And definitely won’t be live-streaming any brawls breaking out over the Master Lover breaking droid hearts everywhere.”

Theron snorted out an annoyed breath, and checked his urge to trip Draike as he sauntered off, hands jammed into his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune. Like the purloined stealth generator, he’d have to worry about slicing and corrupting any servers containing evidence of this mess after he figured out how to stop whatever this was from spreading any further.

The upside to this whole unfortunate side encounter, was that the stealth generator made it possible for him to quietly creep around any droids he passed in the corridor. Most seemed to be making a hasty exit for the cantina, almost as if word had spread of Drake’s false rumor about his and C2-N2’s torrid love affair and every heartbroken circuit was flocking in that direction now.

And when he thought about it like that, when exactly had this become his life? Oh, right. Like fifteen minutes ago. Or however long this nightmare had started. Time had sort of lost meaning, if he were being honest.

He managed to make it to the war room, undetected and unmolested, and quietly snuck his way towards the irritable blonde Sith, holding her head in her hands as if she were battling the world’s strongest migraine. As Theron approached the Sith, he could hear her muttering under her breath in frustration. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat, causing her to jerk her head up in surprise.

“Who’s there?”

“Quiet,” Theron hissed. “They might hear you.”

“Oh, for Sith’s sake,” she exhaled, “where in the blazes have you been?”

“Hiding,” he whispered urgently. “These droids have all gone haywire!”

“And who’s fault is that, I wonder.”

“Not me,” he insisted, “not this time!”

“Right,” she said sardonically, “and I suppose that’s why there isn’t a reality holoseries entitled ‘Programmed for Love’ currently being live-streamed in the cantina for the entire HoloNet to see.”

“Damn it, Draike!” Theron cursed. “I thought he was joking about that.”

“Of course. How did I not see that coming?” she muttered.

“I’ll slice in and scrub all of the servers after we figure out this... this... whatever this is?”

“Your insecurities laid bare in binary?” she suggested, oh so helpfully.

“Why did I come to you for help again?”

“Because--”

It was at that point, that a probe droid, currently speeding its way towards the cantina, happened to take notice of Lana talking to thin air, and veered off its intended trajectory, heading straight for Theron’s position near the back of the war room. If the loud alarms and flashing lights were any indication, it had been able to see through his stealth generator.

Wait... those weren’t alarm proximities it was flashing. As Theron watched its rapid approach, he couldn’t help but stare at it in dumb fascination, brow furrowing as he tried to make out the images it was projecting. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say it was a bizarre mixture of Aurabesh and hologlyphs.

He squinted, just able to make out: “DX-98 🤖🔥 Analytical Scanner 💋🙏 Okara Droid Factory 🔍🌌💕 Exobiology Research 🥵🍑 Top HoloFans 0.7%!”

Before he had a chance to process any of that, the droid was already upon him, pincher arms spreading wide to snap him up for some purpose far beyond its original programming. He only had milliseconds to react before the droid reached him, when an explosive force sent the droid flying backwards harmlessly, and had Theron landing ungracefully on his tailbone. The stealth field fizzled out with a pop on his impact with the ground.

A familiar figure landed between him and the droid, twin blue scarves billowing behind her dramatically, blonde ponytail swaying with the motion of her movement. A small frown of concentration bunched her forehead as his wife threw a concerned look in his direction.

“You requested rescue?” Grey asked.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor has arrived,” he quipped back.

“I am not wearing my armor.” The frown of concentration morphed into one of confusion.

“I--never mind.” He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Thank you for the timely intervention.”

She graced him with a hint of a smile and a bob of her head in acknowledgment. “Any time.”

“As touching as all of this is,” Lana broke in sourly, “it still doesn’t solve our larger problem.”

“Yeah,” Theron rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re not wrong. It sounds like this has spread across the entire base?”

“It appears that way,” Lana said tightly. “You know, you assured me that all of this had been taken care of the last time we dealt with this issue.”

“Hey now,” he bit back, “I’m a man of my word!”

She snorted at that. “Tell that to the Umbaran Transit Authority.”

“How are you still mad about that?”

“You tazed me!”

“Focus,” Grey said, eyeing the stunned probe droid warily. “If memory serves me correct, you had a program you deployed to revert the programming of the droids the last time this happened.”

“Yes, that’s what doesn’t make sense.” He watched as the holoprojectors on the downed probe droid flickered, hologlyphs flashing rapidly in the War Room’s dim light. “I programmed it to eliminate all trace of the offending code. The only way it could be reappearing now is if someone took one of the infected droids offline before I deployed...”

Lana arrived at the same conclusion right about the time that Theron did, picking up the thought. “I seem to recall a certain someone requesting you replicate your work for less-than-legal purposes.”

Theron angrily punched the button on his comm as he growled, “Gault!”

The Devaronian’s voice came back immediately, almost a little too suave. “Theron! What a surprise to hear your dulcet tones requesting my presence.”

“Gault,” Lana managed to keep some measure of calm, “are you responsible for this current situation?”

“What situation is that?” he asked far too innocently, even as a distant call of a droid’s clanking nearly drowned out it’s loud declaration of the presence of rust on one Theron Shan’s “bolt”. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “Oh! You mean the lustful droids currently running amok on the base?”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Lana said dryly. “My original question stands.”

“I am shocked, shocked and scandalized that my name would be the first to come to mind! Might I remind you, it was one Miss Djannis who requested you create her a Shan Sexbot.”

“Yeah,” Kaliyo jumped in on the comms, clearly annoyed, the sound of metallic brawling nearly drowning out her voice, “I wanted it for hilarious crimes! Not whatever the fuck this is!”

“Gault,” a third voice, Hylo Visz, cut in. From the background noise, it seemed she was in the same location as Kaliyo. “I swear, if you don’t help us figure out how to stop this, when you’re not looking I’ll cut off your--”

“Okay, okay, geez!” He interrupted before his significant other could finish whatever that threat was. “Fine, it was me! I deactivated a droid before Theron uploaded his program.”

“Of course.” Lana rolled her eyes upwards, as if asking the Force for patience.

“In my defense,” Gault continued, “originally it was just to shut the stupid thing up! But then Kaliyo came up with that brilliant idea for the Shan Sexbot Distraction, and I thought, why not hold on to this beauty in case it came in handy for a con?”

The sound of Theron smacking his forehead in frustration echoed throughout the War Room.

“So you know, just had a fun idea come to me the other day, so I extracted the original programming and altered a few things, and tried to put it into a new droid for my plan.”

“Did that droid happen to be a blue medical monstrosity?” Theron was actively massaging his temples at this point.

“I will have you know,” Gault said, “that BL-U3 is a consummate professional. You would be lucky to have him perform a medical exam on you!”

“Yeah, that was definitely his intent,” Theron shot back. “Purely professional and not lecherous at all! Which was not in any of my code.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be very talented when it came to software programming. I may have made a mistake or two when altering your code.”

“May have?!”

“How was I supposed to know that the remnants of the Gemini Frequency code in our systems was going to work after the entire Eternal Fleet had gone offline and deploy your software STD to the entire network? Sue me!”

“I’m considering it!”

Before the mostly pointless argument could escalate any further, the sounds of metallic clanking from above, roughly from the location of the cantina, began to grow closer, the cacophony increasing in volume, until it sounded like it was coming in all directions.

“That is not a good sign,” Grey’s mutter was nearly lost to the noise.

“Hey,” Drake’s annoyed voice cut in over the comm, “my livestream is now officially ruined! I hope you’re all happy!”

“I’m afraid to even ask why,” Theron said.

“Oh, it seems all of my extremely eligible and single contestants heard your voice over the comms and abandoned challenging Seetoo Enntoo to unarmed droid combat for the right to court you, and are now all headed in your direction.”

“Oops.”

“Worry not Agent Shan,” the unusually warbly vocabulator of C2-N2 came over the comms, “I will not rest until I alone can provide you with the ultimate in comfort!”

“We should probably get a different housekeeping droid after this is all over,” he told his wife.

That seemed a lesser concern to Grey, as she had shifted into Alliance Commander mode, and was currently on the comms, shouting for every available member of the Force Enclave to get to the War Room as fast as possible to help hold off the incoming army of lustful droids.

Yeah, come to think of it, that was probably more important.

“We must use nonlethal force,” she stressed, giving a particularly severe look to Lana when she said that, getting a simple nonplussed shrug in return, “as we only need to hold the droids at bay until we can come up with a solution. They are not to blame for what’s happening.”

Theron begged to differ, but she was probably right in this case. The cost of repairing or replacing an entire base full of droids would be astronomical.

As Force users began to stream in and take up position around the room, the sound of wheels racing along the metal plating caught Theron's attention, and he looked over to see a familiar silver T7-series astromech racing into the room. He tensed up instinctively at the sight of a droid, as anyone would have in his situation.

“Teeseven!” Grey called out with a smile, clearly not as wary or droidshy.

The little astromech let out a friendly whistle and series of chirps in binary, that roughly translated to: “T7-01 = Safe! // Been off network entire morning!”

“Oh, what a relief,” she breathed, “I would have hated for you to be infected with this too!”

He let out another series of beeps: “T7-01 = still in possession of original antivirus code. // Can tweak it and upload to servers = Save the day?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Theron muttered.

“T7 = not scared!”

Grey’s expression melted into one of admiration and pride. “Teeseven, that’s incredibly brave -- but are you sure? Theron’s right, it could be very dangerous.”

“T7 = Jedi + Theron’s friend. // Helping > Risk!”

She looked at him and he returned the gaze with a small nod, realizing there wasn’t much in the way of choice. It was either that or let the droids overrun them. And then whatever happened when one of them actually got their hands on on Theron -- a prospect he wasn’t really that thrilled to explore right now.

“Fine,” he said tersely, “let’s do this!”

The two of them rushed over to the center console in the room, Theron pulling out his slicer spike as Teeseven plugged his scomplink arm into the main network terminal. The rest of their reinforcements from the Force Enclave arrived just in time and formed a ring around the two slicers. They managed to erect a large Force barrier just as the metallic clanging and clatter grew to a roar, announcing the arrival of the lecherous horde.

Near the front of the mob, Z0-0M threw up her arms in glee and excitement as she jumped to try and catch sight of her beloved. “There you are Agent Shan! You left before we could finish our conversation -- you were saying something about oxidation?”

“Interjection: Do not listen to this hussy, Theron! You and I will make sweet explosions together!”

Theron valiantly tuned them out as he took in a feed of the original antivirus code that Teeseven shared with him. Yes, this all looked correct. Unfortunately, he was going to need get a look to see how Gault had mutilated his beautiful original coding to know how to alter it.

Teeseven was two steps ahead of him, and a stream of code flashed across the HUD in his ocular implants. He watched in horror as he saw the butchery with his own two eyes.

“Gault, where the hell did you get this code?” he asked over the comms incredulously. “HornHub?”

“Excuse you, I only frequent the classiest places on the galactic communications grid, like HoloHump!” The growl of Gault’s name from a very angry Mirialan smuggler had him quickly adding. “You know, I’m just going to shut up and let you concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Teeseven, ever the valiant worker, ignored the conversation completely, and was hard at work running diagnostics on the altered code and the best way to modify the antivirus to address it. Theron watched the stream of letters and numbers fly across the HUD at lightning speed.

The little guy was good at what he did. He let out a flurry of beeps and whistles as almost the last piece of this very lurid puzzle started to fall into place. The little droid seemed to almost be singing along with the code as he wrote it, like a mechanical maestro conducting an orchestra. They were close, so close and--

The next whistle Teeseven let out was not his normal, cheerful way of communication, much lower in timbre and more seductive.

No.

Teeseven whirled his flat head around until his visual sensor faced Theron, and let out another wolf whistle, his holoprojector lighting up to proudly display: T7-01 🤖👀🔍 Observant 👁️🔭 Scanner 🔍🏞️ Tython 🌄👏 215 🍒♎ Repairing 👅🙈 Top HoloFans 3.6%

“What was that?” Grey shouted to be heard over the droids catcalling.

“No no no no,” Theron muttered, “we’re so close! Don’t do this to me, little buddy!”

“What happened to my precious baby boy?” Grey demanded, sweat trickling down the side of her face as she struggled to maintain the Force barrier.

Beyond the barrier, the rest of the porndroid army followed suit with Teeseven, all either wildly projecting their own series of hologlyphs and random facts about themselves and their planets of origins, while others struck disturbingly seductive poses, and a scant few demanded that “ShanDaddy” start a holocall with them in private.

With no time and no recourse left, Theron dove back into the system, yanking Teeseven’s unfinished code as he was nearly overwhelmed with lewd images and thirsty hologlyphs, struggling to finish and upload the code as the volume in the War Room rose to a crescendo just as the Force users’ began to fall, one after the other, their barrier weakening by the moment.

The overwhelming cacophony of hologlyphs, lewd poses, and robotic come-ons that had filled the War Room suddenly disappeared. All eyes turned to the droids as almost in unison, as they all powered down—a sign that their malware had been neutralized. Theron slumped back in relief, his work finally done.

Grey, Lana, and the others let out a long sigh of relief, the tension leaving their bodies in a rush.

“Thank the Force,” Grey murmured, sinking down to the ground. “I do not think I could have held that barrier much longer.”

Theron nodded, feeling a similar sense of exhaustion. He leaned back against the console, closing his eyes but was unable to banish the mentally scarring series of images that were probably permanently burned into his retinas.

“Remind me,” he said faintly, “to obliterate HoloHump’s servers. Once I’m done murdering Gault.”

“You act as if there will be anything left after I find him,” Lana said darkly.

“Remember everyone,” Grey spoke in her best and most official Alliance Commander voice, “murder is bad and frowned upon in the Official Alliance Employee Handbook.”

“Query: Why are we all in the War Room?” HK-55 asked as he came back online. “And more importantly, why is that blue meddroid manipulating its medical instruments into a heart shape, as if expressing affection towards the Commander?”

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mrsarnasdelicious · 7 months

Text

Restful Respite - V

We’re not getting a Season 2, so I’ll make it up myself.

This is unbeta’d and I commit my wordcrimes without apologies.

Ch 1: The Council Ch 2: Puncture Wounds Ch 3: Expeditions Ch 4: The Stripping of Ha'rar

Ch 5: Blurring Lines

Brea tenses. Her nails dig into Rek’yr’s muscles, even through the fabric of his tunic. Rek’yr gently rubs the pads of his fingers on her hip in an attempt to calm her down. Brea pulls back, falling back down onto her feet. “I .. I’m sorry.” She mumbles. “No need to be.” Rek’yr says sweetly. He leans down to close the distance again. The kiss they share is firmer this time around. Brea feels like her heart is going to give out. But she kisses back all the same. Rek’yr pulls her a little bit closer against his body.

Brea back off again. She leans her head against his chest. She heaves a happy sigh. “That was very nice.” She mumbles. “Was that your first kiss?” Rek’yr asks. Brea flusters and nods. “That was very bold of you to do.” Rek’yr says gently. “I wanted it to be special for you too.” Brea mumbles. “It would have been special either way Brea, because it is with you. But I must say that you continue to impress me, in your own little ways.” The Dousan murrs.

Brea begins to jawn again. “It is time for you to go to bed, my love.” Rek’yr says. Brea nods. “I believe you are right.” She mutters. Rek’yr nods. “Good night, my love.” He says. He presses another soft kiss to Brea’s lips. “Best of dreams.” Brea whispers. “You too.” Rek’yr walks to the door. “Wait!” Brea calls out. Rek’yr turns back to her. She flies over and flings herself into his arms. The kiss they share is fierce and a little desperate. Brea is slightly out of breath, when she parts form her suitor. “Sleep well.” She cooes. “You too.”Rek’yr chuckles. He leaves Brea’s chamber, but only with reluctance. Brea stares at the door, even a long while after it shut behind Rek’yr. Her lips still tingle from his kisses and she has no idea what to do with the warmth that has settled into the pit of her stomach. She is rather unfamiliar with these type of feelings. She wishes Tavra were here, to advise her. She changed into her nightshift and crawls under the sheets. She doesn’t fall asleep right away. Thoughts of the Sandmaster keep her awake. The smooth warmth of his lips and his spicy scent. Something inside her becomes ready, although Brea doesn’t quite understand how to address this readiness. It is warm and slippery and raises gooseflesh on her arms and spine. She tosses and turns, unable to adequately address this readiness, or do something about it.

Once she finally falls asleep, she lands into a nightmare. Her mother lays dying, while SkekMal feasts on her flesh. The Scrollkeeper holds poor Brea by the shoulders, so she cannot escape. The other Skeksis stand by and laugh, in their cruel and evil ways. Brea screams and struggles to go free.

She wakes up, bathing in cold sweat. It relieves her to find she is in her own bed, but she against startles. For at her bedside she finds Rek’yr. He is dressed in naught but a nightblue kimono. “Brea, are you alright?” He asks. Brea shakes her head. “I had a nightmare…” She whispers. “You are safe now. I will not leave your side.” The Dousan cooes. The Dousan extends his hand to stroke Brea’s cheek. She desperately leans into his touch. He is the only thing making her feel safe at this moment. “Will you really stay?” She mumbles. “Yes, of course I will.” Rek’yr cooes.

Brea scoots over. “I don’t want you to be seated all night.” She says softly. “You should not ask this of me, princess.” The Sandmaster objects, but it is without much conviction. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Brea protests. Rek’yr chuckles softly. “Very well, I give in.” He ties the sash of his robe tighter around his waist.

Brea’s eyes venture from the Dousan’s yellow eyes to the pronounced plates of his chest. Rek’yr’s skin is hues of blue and green. Lower Brea looks, to her suitor’s abdominal muscles and the wicked bone of his hip. Only his crotch his truly obscured by the robe’s nightblue cloth. Rek’yr clears his throat. Brea startles and looks back up at his eyes. The bright yellow shines playfully at her. Rek’yr rises from the bedside chair. Brea now notices his robes reach all the way to the floor. She gets little chance to marvel at it, though. Rek’yr blows out the lantern on her nightstand and the only light remaining is that of the sisters, peeking in from a slit between the curtains.

The covers lift up and Rek’yr climbs in bed with her. His body radiates warmth, which Brea instantly gravitates towards. She lays her head on his chest. The beating of his heart puts her at ease. Rek’yr noses at her hair. “Sleep now, my sweet. In my arms you are safe.” He murrs. Slowly Brea nods off. She knows herself warm and secure in her Sandmaster’s arms. She sinks into dreams of nightblue silk and hot wet sensations. They have no true story or shape, but them seem to all smell like Rek’yr.

Brea wakes when Rek’yr slips out of her bed. Two of the three brothers have already risen. “Hmm… where are you going?” Already she feels the loss of his warmth. “Make my water and get dressed.” Rek’yr replies. Brea huffs. “Can’t you come back to bed?” She asks. “We have already overslept, the third brother is about to rise.” Rek’yr makes his way to the door. Brea hides her face in the pillows. “Time to get up my love.” Rek’yr says. “Alright, alright.” Brea groans. But she wraps herself in the sheets, basking in Rek’yr’s scent. But without him, her bed grows too cold, too quickly. She gets up and heads to her bathroom. She makes her water and washes up. She puts on a clean dress, one that fits a bit tighter around her hips and chest. She hopes to impress her suitor, in the same way he impresses her. She rebraids a few of her smaller plaids and heads out. Rek’yr is waiting outside her door. He is dressed in his usual garb, but most of his braids are undone and pulled out of the high ponytail. His hair, in shades of blue and purple, falls over his shoulders, a river of waves. Brea finds it breathtaking. “Good morrow, dearest.” Rek’yr purrs. Brea presses herself against him. “Good morrow, my love.” She cooes. Rek’yr gently takes her by the waist. He leans in to press his lips on hers. It seems that, now that they have breached this barrier, the Sandmaster won’t hesitate to be straight forward with it. At first, mostly on instinct, Brea’s body stiffens a little. But it is only a second, before she melts into the kiss.

Rek’yr leads Brea to the library. But not before nipping past the kitchen for something to break their fast on. Soon they are seated. They eat what the Spriton have given them. Once they are done, they start back up with selecting which books to take.

Out on the fields, the Drenchen are already singing as they work. A farmer and his wife oversee four of them. Three gellings and a gelf. The gelf is slightly taller than the gelling’s. The shortest and broadest of the gelling’s leads the singing. His voice is a deep baritone, but sounds very joyful. They sing about three lovers chasing each other around the Great Smerth. The farmer and his wife are a bit abashed by the song at first. But quick enough they warm to the harmony of the four voices. The farmer even starts to sing along. The Drenchen send him warm smiles. They load turnips and tubers onto the wagon, as the farmer has indicated.

After a good while, the farmer’s wife comes to the field with a kettle of tea and a tray of sandwiches. “Come take a break for a while.” She says. The Drenchen gather around her. “That looks wonderful, missy.” Says the tallest of the gellings. “Oh, please call me Elvyra.” The Farmer’s wife says. “Elvyra it is.” The Drenchen gelf affirms. “What of your names?” Asks the Farmer. “My name is Koora.” The gelf offers both her hands, palms up to the Farmer. “I am Allonys, it is good to meet you, Koora of the Drenchen.” The Farmer knows this greeting. He touches the tips of his fingers to Koora’s palms. “And you, Allonys of the Vapra.” Koora replies. “These are Meho,” Koora gestures to the shortest gelling, who has the baritone singing voice. “Ola,” She indicates the gelling with the wide hips and nicked ears. “And Tirzan.” Tirzan is the tallest of the four, wide in the shoulders, but narrow in the waist and hips. He has pierced lips and feathers hanging on rings in his ears. The Farmer gives the last gelling a bit of suspicious look. Meho, Ola and Tirzan offer their hands to the Farmer and his wife as well, palms up, just like Koora. Allonys touches his fingertips to their palms. Koora takes the tray and kettle from Elvyra and she repeats her husbands gesture. “Well met.” She says softly. “Well met.” The three Drenchen gelling chorus.

The farmer’s wife spreads a blanket by the wagon and the small group sits down. Elvyra pours everyone a cup of tea and hands out sandwiches. The Drenchen dig in right away. They talk happily while they eat. This puzzles both Allonys and Elvyra. Vapran gelfling are used to eating in silence, whereas Drenchen barely even sleep in silence. The Drenchen tell the Farmer and his Wife about the Great Smerth and the Swamp of Sog. Especially Elvyra is very interested in the Drenchen’s tales. She asks about their customs and their songs. Which of course prompt Meho and Ola to start singing again.

After lunch, the Drenchen set to work again, overseen by Allonys. Elvyra returns to the homestead to gather some things she wants to bring to Stone-in-the-Wood.

The brother’s have mostly sunken when the entire field is emptied. Allonys mops the sweat from his brow. “All done, and so quick too. I am so grateful for you four.” He wheezes. “Our pleasure.” Ola says. “Let’s go home and see if the wife has dinner done.” Allonys says. Tirzan and Koora grab the cart and the five of them head to the homestead. There, Elvyra has indeed already made dinner. “Right on time too.” She says. “Wash your hand and your face and sit down.” She motions to the large basin of water. The Drenchen and Allonys wash their hands and sit down as instructed. Elvyra serves dinner. “That smells amazing, my dear.” Allonys says. “Yes, ma’am, it does.” Meho agrees. “Well, dig in.” Elvyra cooes. Tirzan and Meho make to grab food with their bare hands. But before they can get to it, Koora swats at their hands. “Naia said not to make our hosts uncomfortable.” She hisses. The gelling hang their ears. “Now grab your utensils, we are in a Vapran home.” Koora says. The gelling oblige.

After dinner, Koora grabs a small bongo and hands Ola a lute. While Elvyra and Allonys do the dishes, the Drenchen provide a good show. They try to sing some of the least bawdy songs they know. Allonys even tries to sing along.

In the meanwhile, in the center of Ha’rar, another Drenchen is almost nodding off. He startles as he feels something hit the back of his head. “Who goes there?!?” He shouts. There is a soft sniggering from a nearby tree. “Show yourself!” Djesid all but yells. “Only if you leave the watch to me and go the heck to bed.” He recognises Eeryn’s voice. “But they are still in there!” He protests. Just that moment, Rek’yr and Brea exit the library. “My Thra, I am hungry.” Brea says. “We will see if the Spriton have some leftovers.” Rek’yr replies. The two lovebirds head back to the citadel. Djesid scampers after them. Eeryn jumps out of her tree and follows them. Brea turns around. “You two are excused for the night, find yourself a nice inn and relax.” She tells them. “Are you sure, Princess?” Eeryn asks stiffly. Brea nods. “There are plenty of warriors and paladins in the Citadel around this time.” She replies. “Very well.” Eeryn leaps into the nearest tree. “Alright, have a good night.” Djesid sends Rek’yr a wink. The Dousan shakes his head, but also chuckles. He and Brea head into the Citadel. Djesid heads off in the same direction as Eeryn. “Oi, ye sprite, wait a sec.” He calls out. “I have a name.” Eeryn calls from somewhere above. “Where the fuck are you even going?” Djesid asks. “Heh, I’ll see.” Eeryn is ahead of him by a good ten paces. Djesid runs to catch up. “Come on, wait up, we can go together.” He says. “Well, hurry up, then slowpoke.” By the sound of it, Eeryn is even further ahead of him. Djesid groans. It seems like catching up with her is an impossible task.

In the end, though, Eeryn finds an abandoned inn, swinging into the still open second story window. Djesid opens the front door, which is not locked. Eeryn is already waiting for him, sitting on the bar counter. “That is about time, Drenchen.” She hops down and starts rummaging around the kitchen. Djesid walks over to the bar and spots a small barrel of wine. “Can’t you have a bit of patience, Spriton.” He says, good natured.

He starts looking for cups. He quickly find them under the counter and grabs two. He pulls the stopper out of the barrel of wine. He fills two cups and stoppers the wine again. He saunters lazily into the kitchen. Eeryn is inspecting a haunch of salted meat. “Here.” Djesid says, extending the cup of wine to her. She looks up and frowns at him. “What is that?” She asks. “Wine.” He replies. “Did you check if it has no gone bad?” She asks sharply. “It’s wine, it won’t go back from just sitting in a barrel on a bar counter.” Djesid grumbles. He takes a bit swing from his cup and smacks his lips. “Perfectly fine, if a little sweet.” He says. “ ut suit yourself, I suppose. I’ll have that Nebrie chop and be out of your hair.” He puts down the second cup and strides of to inspect a large piece of what looks like smoked Nerbie. He draws it from the hook and retrieves it to the taproom.

Djesid is surprised when Eeryn sits beside him at the bar counter. She puts down a bowl of salted nuts and peppered dried fruits. “Here, have some.” She says. She drinks deeply of her wine. Djesid draws his dirks and cuts her a slice of the Nerbie. Eeryn gives him a wain smile. “Thanks.” She mutters, even though it is a little reluctant. They sip their wine and eat their nuts, fruits and Nebrie. They are silent to each other. Djesid starts growing a little uncomfortable. As a Drenchen he is not used to silences like this. It is not a silence in which he stalks his prey through the swamp. It is not a silence in which he enjoys the song of Thra’s creatures. It is oppressive and awkward. The only thing Djesid knows to do is to take another cup of wine. Eeryn holds out her own as well. Djesid fills it back up. They drink and the silence stretches on. They finish the nuts and the fruits and over half of the Nebrie.

They get very drunk. The both of them. Djesid begins a long story of his coming of age ceremony. Eeryn listens in fascination.

She climbs into his lap. Djesid grins widely, baring his tusks and fangs. “Howdy there, pretty one.” He speaks without slurring. “Shit, your voice is so sexy.” Eeryn says and her ears turn bright red. Djesid leans over and nips at one almond shaped ear. Eeryn does her best to suppress a moan, but does not manage. “That sounds fucking amazing.” Djesid purrs. He repeats the ministration. Eeryn squirms in his lap. Soon enough they are kissing. Eeryn’s fingers tangle in Djesid’s dreads-and-braids hair. Djesid grabs her firmly by the hips. Their tongues battle for dominance. Eeryn wins. Djesid groans into her mouth. Eeryn grinds down on him. Djesid has to break the kiss to groan.

He lifts Eeryn up and slips from his barstool. He carries her to the second story, to a room with a large bed. He tosses her down and crawls over her. He kisses her breath away.

At the citadel, everyone has already retired to their beds, save for Brea. Rek’yr is the only one still by her side. She sits in front of her mother’s vanity. Rek’yr places her hand on her shoulder. “Brea, you need sleep. Tis time to go to bed.” He cooes. She looks up at him. She is not crying, but looks close to tears. “Come.” Rek’yr says gently. Brea heaves a sigh and gets up. She twines her fingers with Rek’yr’s and allows the Dousan gelling to lead her to her own chambers.

“Please stay.” She asks, opening the door to her chambers. “Brea, I …” Rek’yr begins. “No, just stay.” Brea says, loudly. Rek’yr perks his ears up, a little startled. “I feel safer when you are with me. I could have another nightmare.” Brea says. “Very well, very well.” Rek’yr puts his hands up in surrender. Brea keeps a close eye on him as he enters her chambers. She closes and locks her doors. It is the first time in her whole life she uses the key. Her mother had always forbade her from using it. She puts the key on her vanity and can’t help the gnawing guilty feeling in her gut. But that feeling quickly subsides when she turns to Rek’yr and finds him taking off his doublet. She remains silent as she watches him undress without hurry. Every motion is, to Brea, the very epitome of grace. Rek’yr seems not to notice he is being observed and calmly continues with his deep purple jerkin. Brea has to bite back a gasp. Rek’yr is simply so handsome. He undoes the lacing of his breeches. Brea quickly flees behind her dressing screen. She isn’t sure if she is quite prepared for seeing Rek’yr in his small clothes just yet. If he wears small clothes at all, that is! It did not seem so the previous day.

She changes her dress for her nightshift. She peeks around the screen and finds Rek’yr already abed. “Are you coming, dearest?” He calls out to her. Brea shyly erupts from behind the screen. Rek’yr sits up to look at her. Brea covers her chest with her arms. She isn’t exactly shy, but Rek’yr’s gaze is rather intense.

She hurries over to the bed and practically dives under the covers. Rek’yr chuckles gently at her antics. “Are you cold, Brea.” He teases. “Yep.” Brea says and snuggles against him, giggling to herself. Rek’yr puts an arm around her. He extinguishes the bedside lantern and pulls Brea as close as he can manage. Brea noses into him and stifles a yawn. “Sweet dreams, dearest.” Rek’yr purrs. “Sweet dreams.” Brea mumbles.

Sleep won’t come to either of them, though. Brea is too sharply aware of Rek’yr proximity. Every breath she takes brings more of his scent into her sensitive nose. And the more of it she breathes in, the better he smells. That unaddressed and newfound readiness rears it’s head again. Brea grits her back teeth together in order not to let out a soft whimper. Rek’yr is not at all ignorant to what Brea feels. He can smell her. “Sweetling, why do you lay awake?” He murmurs warmly. Brea can feel her ears heat up and is thankful Rek’yr can’t see her. “I .. I don’t know.” She mumbles. Because she truly doesn’t. Her mother never bothered to instruct her on the precise intricacies of sexuality. Sure, Brea knows where the babies come from, but she never got told the juice details. “I think I might.” Rek’yr cooes. There is something husky and very sexy in his voice. Brea feels fluster draw from her ears onto her cheeks. “H-how can you know what it is?” She sputters. “I can smell it.” The Dousan answers. Brea feels shame rise to her cheek now as well. She hides her face in his chest.

“It strikes me, Brea, that you are very innocent in the practical ways of intimacy.” Rek’yr says gently. “I .. I just never met anyone like you… Mother said I would wed someone of the Vapran aristocracy… But I never cared for any of them, especially not those of my own age.” Brea mumbles. She feels some of the heat leave her face, now that she is talking about something more mundane. “So, our kisses yesterday?” Rek’yr asks coyly. “My very first,” Brea confirms. “I am very honoured.” Rek’yr murrs.

Brea feels how Rek’yr turns to his side. His hand finds her cheek. Gently his fingers play with a stray strand of hair and slide upwards to trace the shell of her ear. Brea closes her eyes to enjoy the ministrations. Rek’yr closes the distance between them. Their lips mold together in a sensual fashion. Brea can’t suppress a little moan.

She tangels her fingers into Rek’yr’s braids. Rek’yr pulls her close by her hip. Brea is too occupied with the kiss to be very surprised with the fact that Rek’yr wears nothing but a loincloth. She even presses against him a bit firmer. Although she does freeze up for a brief moment when Rek’yr’s tongue trails over her lips. It’s brief though, she is swift to recover and part her lips a little bit. Rek’yr’s tongue ventures into her mouth. She lets slip another soft moan. Rek’yr groans back at her.

His hand ventures to the back of her thigh. Brea freezes up when he brings her leg up to wrap around his own hip. She puts her hand on his chest to halt him. Their kiss slowly breaks. “Too fast?” Rek’yr asks. “Just a little.” Brea mumbles softly. Rek’yr gently let’s go of her thigh. “I am sorry.” He cooes. “No need to be, you couldn’t have known.” Brea murrs.

She resumes the kiss, but keeps her leg to herself. Rek’yr does not even seem to mind. He settles for cupping her cheek instead. Brea is perfectly fine with that.

After a good while they break apart. Brea cuddles up against Rek’yr. “Sweet dreams.” She mutters. “Sleep well, love.” Rek’yr murmurs. He kisses her on her forehead. Brea is quick to nod off, feeling safe in Rek’yr’s arms. After a while she turns to her other side, so Rek’yr is spooning her back. Rek’yr noses his face into her hair and dozes off too. Both dream peaceful dreams and rest well. Together they are at peace.

The following morrow, Djesid awakes with a slight start. Beside him he finds Eeryn still asleep. He really wants to cuddle back up to her, but nature calls. He slips out of bed and runs to the privy. Once he has made his water, he goes back to bed. But upon arrival, he finds the bed empty. Eeryn has already left. She’s taken her clothes and bag with her, a firm indicator she is not coming back. Djesid groans and dresses himself. He figures he could as well starts the day. He heads back to the center of Ha’rar. He finds the Princess and her Sandmaster in the library. And Eeryn in a nearby tree. “Good morrow.” He yells to her. The Spriton gelf does not reply. Djesid crinkles his nose. “Ryn, what is the matter?” The Drenchen calls out to her. Eeryn makes no reply, she only climbs a few branches higher. “Oh come on!” Djesid calls out. Eeryn blows something hard through her pipe, hitting Djesid square on the forehead. “Ouch, fuck!” Djesid yells, rubbing his forehead. Eeryn can be heard laughing and muttering something of which Djesid can only understand ‘Drenchen’.

The harvest proceeds swiftly. The Drenchen are hard workers if there were ever any and the Spriton are exceedingly pleased with the crops growth. The Vapran farmers couldn’t wish for better help. Rek’yr and Brea select an array of books to take back to Stone-in-the-Wood. Brea even chooses some dresses of Seladon and herself to take back. And all the non perishables the Spritons has no yet used for supper is loaded onto the wagons as well.

Rek’yr finds Brea talming at the door of her mother’s chambers. “It is time.” He says. “I know.” She mutters. “I am just saying goodbye. I don’t expect I will return here, ever again.” She looks at Rek’yr over her shoulder. He gently takes her by the hand. “I know it is not easy, but we should not wait with accepting the journey ahead for too long.” He tells her softly. Brea heaves a big sigh. “Come.” Rek’yr murrs. Brea closes the door of her mother’s chambers and allows Rek’yr to draw her gently away. They make their way to the throne room, where everyone is waiting. “This is where I found Lore.” Brea whispers. Her eyes seek out the stone guardian, who has been as vigilant as the Drenchen and Spriton assigned to her.

Everyone looks to Brea. She takes a deep breath and tries to puff out her chest. Instead she only ruffles her gossamer wings. “Farmers, Spriton, Drenchen, I want to thank you for your effort and your hard work these past days.” She says. She does her best to emulate her mother. “Today we will leave Ha’rar for the last time.” Just saying it brings her close to tears. “Tis time to go.” She turns her back to the crowd, stretching her wings like she has seen her mother done a great many times, making sure she keeps them straight. Rek’yr smiles at her and offers her his arm. Brea gladly takes it, finding comfort in his warmth.

Rek’yr escorts Brea to the carriage. Djesid and Eeryn follow close behind. She looks back at the citadel one last time. “Goodbye mother.” She whispers. She allows Rek’yr to give her a leg up into the carriage. He joins her inside at once. Eeryn, unnoticed by the couple within, hops onto the back of the carriage.

It takes a few minutes for the carriage driver to hook up the landstriders and get up on his seat on the front of the carriage. “Off we go, hya!” He calls. The landstriders gurgle and begin their way out of Ha’rar.

The journey back to Stone-in-the-Wood takes longer than the journey to Ha’rar. This is only a small wonder, because the carts are now piled full with the harvest and other things taken from Ha’rar.

The first night the group stays at a small Vapran village. Brea and Rek’yr meet with the village elders. Eeryn comes up to replace Djesid for guard duty. She does not even look at him. Djesid tries to say hello, but the way she turns her back on him makes his words die on his tongue.

Brea sits down with the town elders, two gelfs and one gelling. Rek’yr stands behind her chair, his hands on her shoulders. “You can join our column to Stone-in-the-Wood, so you are safe.” Brea says. The two elder women cluck and the man looks absolutely flummoxed. “We will weather this storm.” The elder gelling says. “No, you won’t. The Skeksis will leave no gelfling alive. Come with use to Stone-in-the-Wood, from there you can be given a safe new home.” Brea pleades. But the elder shake their heads.

“Listen to your princess, for she speaks with the All Maudra’s voice.” Rek’yr thunders. The elders give the Dousan a slightly frightened look. “You will be given a good home at Sami Thickett or the Stonewood’s hidden villages.” He says, his tone gentler. “The All Maudra wants all of you out of danger.” Brea adds. She reaches up to touch Rek’yr’s hand with her own. The Elders agree.

Rek’yr catches a swoothu and Brea writes a note to Rian and Seladon. They need to know that there are more people on their way to Stone-in-the-Wood. With Dousan vliyaya, Rek’yr tells the swoothu where it needs to deliver the note.

Vacating the village takes three days. The march after that goes even slower. Now there are elder gelfling and childlings in their ranks.

Night has already fallen when they arrive at Stone-in-the-Wood. The twins are waiting, torches in their hand. The Drenchen in the column whistle a secret signal and they whistle back. Naia approaches the Spriton and motions them to help with the landstriders that draw the carriage. Even though the Spriton are all but exhausted, they diligently find a spot to safely tuck away the carriage so it is not in anyone’s way and unharness the Landstriders. Gurjin goes over to the carriage to see if he can assist Rek’yr or Brea. The Dousan wobbles on his way out and Gurjin grabs him by the shoulder to steady him. “Long ride?” He asks. “I am more accustomed to Sand Skimmers than carriages.” Rek’yr says. He sends Gurjin a small smile in gratitude. He turns to the carriage to help Brea out, but his legs are still unsteady. “Let me.” Gurjin gently butts him aside and holds his hands out to Brea. “Thank you Gurjin.” Brea titters, allowing him to help her down. Her legs are unsteady too. Gurjin turns to Naia. “I am getting these two to their cottages, you make sure all the childlings gets a comfy bed.” He says. Naia nods. Gurjin gestures to Brea and Rek’yr. “You good to walk?” He asks. “I don’t think so.” Brea mumbles, her legs feel more than just a little numb. Gurjin sweeps her off her feet with a bit of a flourish. Brea yelps, but puts her arm around Gurjin’s neck to stay stable. “What are you doing?” Rek’yr all but yells. “Don’t you think you would topple over, with the way you are walking.” Gurjin replies, not at all bothered.

The Drenchen first makes sure Rek’yr is safe and sound inside his own cottage. “Good night, my love.” The Dousan says to Brea. He leans in to kiss her, but Gurjin takes a step back. “All due respect, but the only one I want to see snog with a woman in my arms is Rian.” Gurjin says. “She’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” He winks at Rek’yr. He turns on his heels and heads to the All Maudra’s cottage. He knocks by ramming his knee against the door. There is a rusting inside. The door opens after a moment of waiting. Seladon looks a bit angered with the disturbance at first, but her expression changes when she sees Brea. “Oh thank Thra you’re back!” She propells herself forward with her wings to hug Brea. But because Gurjin is holding Brea, he gets in on the embrace as well. “Seladon, I’m fine.” Brea mumbles. “I was worried sick.” Seladon all but sobs, one arm around Brea’s shoulder and one around Gurjin’s neck. “How about I leave you two alone.” Gurjin says. He stoops down and Brea gets the hint. Nimbly she jumps from his arms. “Good night.” He says. “Good night, Gurjin.” The sisters chorus. They watch as the Drenchen turns on his heels and towards his clansmen. “They probably have a lot to tell him.” Brea says. “As you will have to me, but you ought to go to sleep first, you look exhausted.” Seladon replies.

Brea is steered to her bed alcove and helped out of her dress. The moment her head touches the pillow, she is asleep. Seladon sits beside her bed for a small while before retiring to her own.

Brea dreams of Deet. She is wearing pure white clothes that don’t seem typical to any clan. There are purple flowers, seemingly sprouting from her hair. She is dancing with her eyes closed, like she has not a worry in the world. But that is all Brea dreams. She dreams of it for what seems a long time. It is a good dream and Brea, in the back of her slumbering brain, hopes it can come true.

She wakes when Seladon gently pats her on the shoulder. “Time for a bath, you are dirty from the road.” Seladon says. Brea groans and rolls herself in her sheets. “Five more minutes.” She grumbles. “No, you are coming out of bed.” Seladon uses the tone of voice she remembers her mother using with Brea when she was willfull. “Ugh fine.” Brea sits up. She keeps her sheets around her though. “Come.” Seladon says, a bit more forceful than their mother used to. It does rouse Brea from her bed. The two women head to the bath house, which has been cleared out by Paladin to make sure the All Maudra and the Princess have perfect privacy. Two Paladin are stationed by the entrance. One of them is the Paladin with strawberry red tresses. “Good morning, my lady.” The Paladin says. “Good morning Maurix.” Seladon replies, sending him a smile. She and Brea enter the bathhouse

The sisters luxuriate in the water before washing each other’s hair. Brea braids Seladon’s hair and then Seladon plaids Brea’s. While they bathe, the sisters gossip. Seladon tells Brea all the small things that happened in Stone-in-the-Wood. About Naia and Onica sneaking off together a lot. About Gurjin being the go to babysit. And of course about her Paladin. And Brea tells Seladon small things about her visit to Ha’rar. But she does not tell her sister that Rek’yr spend a few nights in her bed.

They dry off and get dressed. “It is time for the council.” Seladon says. “Can we first have breakfast?” Brea asks. Her belly growls. Seladon chuckles softly in response. “We will find something to eat, we can break out fast at the council table.” She says. She sweeps out of the bathhouse with all the grace she lays claim to, as the All Maudra. Brea follows her, feeling only half as graceful.

“Brea! You’re back!” Kylan hurries to catch up with both Silverlings. “Kylan, how good to see you!” Brea stops in her tracks and opens her arms to receive Kylan in a hug. Kylan hugs her happily. “It is good to see you too Brea. We all have missed you.” He replies. They part and smile at each other. Brea’s stomach growls again. Kylan giggles behind his hand. “How about I find you two some breakfast and meet you in the council chambers?” He asks. “Yes, thank you.” Seladon says. Kylan turges off.

Brea and Seladon go to the council chambers. They are the first there. But soon enough Betram and Asgret come in together, talking gently. Gurjin and Naia follow a minute later, bickering about something or the other. Kylan comes in, steaming hot bums in his hands. Onica comes in right after him. “Breakfast.” He says, taking his seat beside Brea. He hands her and Seladon the buns. Rek’yr comes in, leading Maudra Agrot to her seat. Brea looks up at him. “Good morning.” She says. “Good Morning, dearest.” Rek’yr purrs. He sits down opposite Brea. The table is too wide for her to be able to touch him, which causes her ears to droop a little. Rian is the last to enter. “Council is in session.” He says, before taking his seat. Everyone turns to face him. “Brea and Rek’yr are back and I am sure they have a lot to tell us.” Rian says. Heads now turn to Brea and Rek’yr. “How was Ha’rar?” Seladon asks. “Calm.” Rek’yr replies. “Nothing happened, safe for what we set out to do.” Brea adds. “All the crop has been harvested, all the non perishables have been taken and Rek’yr and I too all the books we thought useful.” She says. “I made a list of everything we took from Ha’rar, I can get it for you.” She turns to Rian. The Stonewood shakes his head. “We will go over that later.” He says. “We have something else to discuss.” Seladon says. “The Stonewood villagers, who will need to be housed. Especially the elders and those with small children.” Rian adds. “We could send for the Great Smerth, but I doubt the Stonewoods like Sog as much as us Drenchen.” Naia says. “I will send a Swoothu to the Wellspring, I am sure Maudra Seethi wants to help.” Rek’yr replies. “And what if she doesn’t?” Seladon asks sharply. “She does.” Rek’yr answers firmly. “But just in case she doesn’t, they can move on to Sami Thickett for the time being.” Kylan says. “See, that is something I can work with.” Seladon looks at Rek’yr like she doesn’t hold the Dousan in very high esteem.

“Both Kylan and Rek’yr will send a swoothu, the more safe places we have, the better.” Rian says, trying to sound firm. Gurjin gives him an encouraging nod. “I think that concludes the council for now. Let’s get prepping for the feast.” Says Naia. “Oh we should, I was going to bake special sweet bread.” Kylan agrees. They both look to Rian. “All Maudra?” Rian looks to Seladon. She nods. “Work hard. Brea, you go get your list. Rian and I will go over it with you.” She says.

Everyone rises, safe for Rian. Brea leaves the council chambers with Rek’yr. Seladon sends them a vexed look. “What does she see in him?” She asks. Rian’s ears droop. He isn’t overtly fond of Rek’yr either, but the Dousan has proven himself an astute and keen council member. “I am not quite sure, but I also consider it none of my business.” He replies. Seladon huffs, not satisfied with the answer. Brea returns with her list, but without her Dousan. Rian can see the relief on Seladon’s face. “Now show us the harvest.” Seladon motions her sister to sit down opposite her. Brea takes the seat. She passes the list to Rian rather than Seladon. Rian scans the lists of vegetables and wheats. He hemms and hawws over it for a little and then hands it over to Seladon.

“This is quite the good harvest, despite the crops being affected by the blight.” Says the All Maudra. “Yes, we were very glad.” Brea agrees. “I will have to check to see how to store this.” Rian mutters. “Do it quickly, before the harvest perishes.” Says Seladon. “I will, right away.” Rian rises. Seladon crinkles her nose, but does not argue. She just watches Rian leave. Brea gets up as well. “I am going to help him.” She says. And out she rushes.

Brea quickly catches up with Rian. She giggles and grabs him by the arm. “It is so good to be back.” She says. “When I was in Ha’rar I thought leaving it behind was going to be hard, but now that I am here again, I know this is where my home is. With all of you.” She eagerly rattles on. Rian’s ears perk up. “Good to hear.” He says happily. Rian pulls a few Stonewoods aside and asks them to take stock of the stores. They immediately dash off to do as he asks. They understand the importance of getting the harvest stashed away as quick as they can. Brea leads Rian to the carts. Rian noses through them, looking at each sort of crop and food item brought from Ha’rar. “Do you want to see the books too?” Brea asks. Rian really wants to say no, but he just can’t do that to his friend. “Oh sure.” He nods. Brea drags him over to the cart she and Rek’yr filled with everything she insisted they take to Stone-in-the-Wood. Rian leafs iddly through a few books before he spots the pile of dresses. “Are these yours?” He abandons the books for the dresses. Brea shakes her head. “Those on top are Seladon’s, I figures she would like some of her own clothes.” She says. “And this one was Tavra’s.” She tugs at a sleeve sticking out of the pile. “I wish I could have known your sister better.” Rian offers. Brea hugs him tightly. “Thank you.” She mutters. She burries her face into his chest and begins to cry. Rian embraces her and humms gently and soothingly to her.

Rian sets everyone who is not occupied with preparing for the festivities on unpacking the wagons. Rek’yr an Brea busy themselves with the cart of books. Most of the books they store in Rek’yr’s cottage. The dresses Brea brings to the cottage she shares with Seladon. She finds her sister there. Seladon is pouring over stacks of papers. “Do you have a moment?” Brea asks. Seladon looks up, spotting her sister with a lot of dresses in her arms. “Brea, what are you doing?” She asks. “I brought you some of your dresses, from Ha’rar.” Brea says cheerfully. “You shouldn’t have.” Seladon says. “Yes I should, they make you happy.” Brea giggles. She puts the dresses down on Seladon’s divan. “I also brought my own dresses, a few, not all. And Tavra’s least favourite. The one she looked so good in, for Onica.” She cooes. Seladon can’t help a smile. Brea hands Seladon Tavra’s dress. It is silver and Mother of Pearl pink. “Oh….” Seladon gasps. Tears roll down her cheeks. “Tavra looked so wonderful in this dress.” She whispers. “She did.” Brea agrees. She hugs Seladon tightly. The two sisters pour over Seladon’s dresses for a while. Seladon fingers at a night blue dress for so long, Brea insists she puts it on. “I remember this one, you got it for your last nameday.” She says. Seladon spins in a circle. “Do you think Maurix will like this dress?” She asks. “One way to find out.” Brea cooes. “Are you saying what I think you are saying?” Seladon asks. “Wear it at the feast tonight.” Brea grins broadly at her sister.

Seladon wears her midnight blue dress that night. Maurix is waiting for her by the door of her cottage. “My Lady.” He gives a curt bow and offers her his arm. Seladon takes it and smiles at him. “You look stunning, Seladon.” Maurix whispers, leaning in to press his lips close against Seladon’s ear. The Vapra flusters. Rek’yr approaches. He is garbed in breezy storm cloud purple and sheer cloths so blue it is almost black. Only his leggings, which can be seen through his robe, are jet black. “Oh my Thra, you look…” Brea can’t find the right words. “As do you, my love.” Rek’yr says. Brea is wearing a splendid silvery blue dress with long drooping sleeves. She flusters a little. Rek’yr offers her his arm. “Shall we?” He cooes. Brea happily takes the Dousan by the arm. “We shall.” She says. Rek’yr leads Brea towards the festivities. Seladon sends him a sour look, which he of course misses, because they are walking away from her. “What is the issue?” Maurix asks. “He is a Dousan.” Seladon huffs. “And I am a Sifan.” Maurix retrotts. “That is different.” Seladon says pointedly. Maurix keeps his tongue. Now is not the time to discuss this.

The Spritons are making fires and the Drenchen are setting up the large tressle tables. They are already singing. The Spriton sing upbeat songs about the harvest and the Drenchen their songs of Sog. The festive tone is already set. More and more gelfling come to the town square. Everyone is chattering to everyone. Rian smiles when he sees how well the clans intermingle. He goes over to Kylan, to give him a hand with putting big bowls of lavish dishes on the tables. Kylan smiles gently at him. “The harvest is bountiful, despite the blight.” He says. Rian nods. More hands help with the setting of the table. Fragrant roasts and scrumptious arrangements of vegetables, alongside steaming hot bread and pitchers of juices, ale, wine and tea are brought out. Everyone finds themselves a place to sit, talking happily to each other. Childlings run to and fro, laughing loudly. The mood is really setting in now.

“Gelfling!” Rian stands at the head of the largest table. Everyone falls silent and looks at him. “Today we celebrate the harvest of Ha’rar.” Rian calls out. Everyone cheers loudly. “Feast, sing and dance, in honour of what Thra gave us in this harvest!” Rian yells. All the gathered gelfling cheer even louder. “Hurray for the harvest!” Rian raises his glass of mead. Seladon rises, raising her glass fo wine. “Hurray.” She says in a loud and clear voice. “Hurray, Hurray, hurray!” Everyone raises their cups and glasses. Soon everyone is eating and chattering and drinking. The Drenchen who went to Ha’rar are loudly discussing the stark differences between their home and the abandones capitol. Especially the Vapra listen keenly. The Spriton that have seen Ha’rar seem much keener to discuss the harvest. For that the Stonewood are more than willing to lend their ear. The farmer Allonys is talking with a couple of other farmers, who stayed behind in Stone-in-the-Wood. He speaks highly of the Drenchen that helped him with the harvest. The other farmers listen with some slightly disbelieve. They look to Tirzan with his pierced ears and dark purple flowers braided into his sog coloured locks. They find it hard to believe that such a Drenchen can take orders so easily.

After dinner, the dishes are gathered in tubs and set aside, that is a chore for tomorrow. The tables are moved to the side to make room for the dancing. The bonfires are build and lit and gelfling dash off to retrieve instruments and toys.

The entire hustle and bustle is over before Gurjin has been able to round up all the childlings. The musicians are forming teams and so do the songtellers. Kylan is at the helm of the largest team. He is beaming with pride. He decides he will sing the song of Jara-Jen and The Hunter. A clever victory if there ever was one. Gurjin has managed to wrangle all the childlings by the time the music and songs have started. He stations them in a circle around Kylan and the team of junior songtellers. Kylan begins the song. The childlings are captivated right away. Even Gurjin, who sits in the midst of the children, listens in awe. Dell’M sits on his shoulders and three little Stonewoods have squeezed themselves in his lap. Bobb’N leans into his side.

And of course with the childlings occupied, the adults have time to themselves. Some sit by the bonfires to talk, while others dance. The talk is mostly about shared or differing cultural aspects and is very amicable. Gelfling learn from each other. Rian and Brea are both very gladdened to see that there is no longer any animosity between the clans.

Tirzan stands a little to the side. The dances are mostly Spriton and Sifan, dances he doesn’t know. He is a little uncomfortable with the frolicking so unlike the Drenchen dances he is used to. But he’s spotted a gelf he does want to dance with. She is a tall Vapra, with a slight pink hue to her silver hair. Tirzan startles when someone places a hand on his shoulder. “Ask her to dance. The worst she can do is say no.” It is Koora. “Oh please.” Tirzan rolls his eyes. “A little bit of rejection never hurt anyone, don’t be such a chum.” Koora slaps him on the shoulder and saunters off. Tirzan groans to himself. And then he takes heart.

The Vapra looks at him when he stands text to him. “Wana dance?” He asks. “I don’t dance.” She replies. “Nonsense.” Tirzan chuckles. “I have seen how you Drenchen dance.” She scoffs. “Where have you seen a Drenchen dance?” Trizan frowns at her. “At the castle, we had a few in the guard.” Is her reply. “Then show me how the Vapra dance.” Tirzan is not budging. The gelf looks at him, her eyes narrowed. “My mother taught me to dance before my father taught me how to wield sword and spear. I hated every minute of it.” She says. “We can dance another way, not Drenchen or Vapra. We could dance our own way.” Tirzan smirks, barking his tusks. The gelf bares hers. The Vapra tusks are smaller and smoother than the Drenchen.

Tirzan recognises the expression as not that much of a smile. “How about you tell me your name first?” He says gently. The gelf swallows a lump in her throat and heaves a sigh. “My name is Zefir.” She replies. Tirzan smiles at her. “Nice to meet you Zefir, I am Tirzan.” He says. Zefir’s ears droop a little.

Tirzan reaches for Zefir’s hand. She does not draw away. He tangles his fingers with her own. There is a dreamfast teasing the palm of his hand, but he does not sink in to it. He only glimpses Zefir running through vast empty halls from a great shadowy figure. Suddenly he feels very sorry for her. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “You are safe here, you know that right?” He murrs. Zefir gives him a wide eyed look. “I glimpsed something when our palms touched.” Tirzan admits. Zefir looks away from him. “Let’s just say it would have been wiser for me to wear the dresses my mother sown me rather than the swordbelt my father made.” She says. “But you don’t like dresses.” Tirzan concludes. Zefir shakes her head. “Never did.” She whispers. “You don’t need a dress to dance though.” Tirzan winks. Zefir gives him a look. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Tirzan pulls her to the other dancers. “I might never forgive you this. “ Zefir says. “I don’t need you to.” Tirzan replies gently. That earns him a smile from Zefir. Tirzan smiles back encouragingly.

They dance, or at least by Grottan terms they do. Close together they sway on the music, holding on to each other. Zefir leans her chin on Tirzan’s shoulder. She inhales his earthy scent, finding he sort of smells like Thra. It puts her at ease for the first time since she found out Tolyn had ratted the revolting guards out to the Skeksis.

#the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #brea x rek'yr #maurix = freckles the paladin #seladon x freckles

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