Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Candlelight flickers in the dimly lit study. The shadow of a burly, wide-shaped figure dances on the decorated wall. A man sits at the desk, his head bowed as he stares at the piece of parchment before him. His bearded face twists into a grimace of concentration, the lines around his eyes crinkle. A thin-lined scar crosses his right eye.

With a deep sigh, he runs his hand over his face. He dips the quill into the ink, careful not to let it drip onto the parchment before he sets the feather down. The sound of metal scratching paper fills the room as he starts to write.

Your Grace,

My friend,

Sifuu,

I expect rumors about Lord Rell and Lady Toril Keita's sudden passing have travelled far on the ocean waves and reached your ears by now. It is with a heavy heart that I have to confirm this news. 

As you can expect, this leaves the remaining heirs of our mutual friends in a difficult position. I am certain you are well aware of the circumstances regarding their son’s Order ruling, especially since the very same institution just cast a similar judgement over your son as well. 

Reth Keita being deemed unfit to take his family's name has left Rell and Toril in a rush to make arrangements to secure another way to ensure the rightful on-passing of their status to their children. They were on their way to Bahari City to appeal to the Order to change the rule of marriage for their daughter. 

Their ship sank. There is no sign of them or the ship to be found.

Tish Keita remains unmarried, the Order rules remain unbent. She will not be allowed to keep her family’s position of power unless she marries another noble.

This can not be a coincidence. Lord & Lady Keita's passing is no accident, I am sure of it. It was deliberate sabotage. Rell and Toril have been murdered.

It pains me to see our friend’s children in so much agony. There are countless suitors trying to court young Tish during her time of grief. One of them is Eshelon Bahari. He is hungry for power. Hungry for her beauty. I have seen his lewd looks, he doesn’t try to hide his lusting for the young Lady, not even in the eye of the public. To think of what he says about her behind the doors of his chambers…

It disgusts me. It enrages me. I can not watch as she takes the hand of any of these dangerous men driven by desperation but especially not his . With everything this girl has been through I just can not find it in my heart to let her walk into the arms of a man like Eshelon Bahari. I have a duty to protect her. 

This is why I write to you, my friend. From the deepest chambers of my heart, I hope to find you receptive to an idea of mine. I know you find yourself in a strangely similar predicament. Your son, Hassian, has been sentenced to similar punishment. One we both know is unjust but that is, unfortunately, beyond importance. He has to marry to carry your name after your, hopefully far away, passing.

The man pauses, hovering the quill above the words he wrote. He reads through them again, then takes a deep breath.

Sifuu, you know me like almost no one else. You know I would never ask for this if it wasn’t direly needed. 

Under normal circumstances, I would ask for them to meet and get to know each other. To give them at least the chance at a marriage on the basis of mutual love and understanding. But these are not normal circumstances, unfortunately. The Order is on their way. Eshelon Bahari is at our doorstep. The Grimalkin troops are almost at our borders. The Keita's are dead and it is only a matter of time before they come after the rest of us. 

We need to act. Now.

Therefore I propose, as Tish's Shepp and her parents' yearlong confidant, a bonding in marriage between your son, Hassian, and Tish. A joining of great houses in the face of danger knocking on both our doors. I wish I could give both of them the chance of something more romantic but I fear there is no time left for fairytales.

Tish is a wonderful, young woman. I will not lose words about her beauty, I know tales have spread far and wide by now about that matter. All I will write is: she would make a great and gentle leader. Smart, resourceful and resilient, yet also kind-hearted, sweet and full of life.  She is well-educated and enjoys reading. I know that is something of a shared trait, maybe we are lucky enough for them to find it in their hearts to become friends at the very least. 

I will await your answer. Speak to your son about it but please, keep in mind, that time is of essence. We do not have much of it. 

Your old friend,

Ashura Qusai

The man cleans the quill thoroughly with a white handkerchief, then puts the quill back into its container, neatly tucked away and cleaned so no ink stains end up damaging the carefully composed letter. When the ink has dried down and lost its shimmer, he folds the paper in half and slips it into an envelope. He reaches his hand down. The wooden drawer rattles as he opens it, pulling out a thick piece of metal. 

With a steady hand, the grey-haired man takes a roll of red wax out of the drawer and holds it into the flame of the burning candle. The hard wax melts into soft goo and drips onto the envelope. Another sigh and he presses the metal seal into the red mass, watching as the emblem sinks into the wax.

“Andreas,” he says. His voice is firm and commanding, yet not lacking warmth.

A reddish haired, stout man sticks his head through the door. “Yes, Master? How may I be of service?” 

The man gets up from his place at the desk, holding out the sealed letter. “See that this letter leaves the castle. Tonight.” He looks at the servant urgently. “Do not hand it to the postmaster, deliver it to the docks yourself. Do you understand?” 

A quick nod. “Yes, Master, I understand. I will do it at once,” he says. He grabs the envelope, tucking it safely into the breast pocket of his vest. With another short nod, he hurries off into the dark castle corridors.

The man sinks down into the chair again, his shoulders heavy, his eyes tired. He buries his head in his hands with another deep sigh. 

“Oh, my dear friends…” Softly he looks up at the ceiling, tears welling in his eyes. “I can only hope you can forgive me for what your daughter must do. And I can only hope you know I am trying my best to keep them from harm.”

His eyes fall onto a small painting framed on the desk. Two children, a small, blonde girl and an older, golden haired boy. Both of them laughing and playing. It's a quick sketch of a happier time, a moment forever caught on parchment.

“Both of them.” 

---

A woman sits, leaning her head on one hand while the other scribbles on paper. Green eyes follow every word she puts down, reading it, then reading it again just to make sure there are no mistakes. No words that shouldn’t be there. 

She sniffles loudly, unable to stay silent in the face of the tragedy unfolding before her. It feels paralyzing to write what she has to. It’s not just a simple letter, after all. It’s a sealing of two fates that will soon be entangled forever. Unwillingly so. 

Another thing she can write on her list of regrets when it comes to her son. All of these years since her wife, his mom, died and she has managed to do nothing but fail him time and time again. Yet here she is, signing her name under the invitation that will change his life forever. 

My old friend,

I wish you would write more often and with less sad news. It seems things are moving more quickly than we expected.  

I spoke to Hassian. He isn’t happy but has agreed to marry Tish. The wedding will be held in a fortnight. Chayne has already been informed; he will officiate the wedding.

Start your travels as soon as this letter reaches you. Do not waste another minute. We do not have much time. I will have everything prepared for your arrival. 

If you need anything for your travels: weapons, rations or anything of the sort, you know who to ask. He is on standby. 

Please, let Tish and Reth know they will always be welcome at my court. Both of them. Even if Tish refuses this marriage. They will be safe under my roof. I will always have space for my friend’s children. 

See you soon,

Sifuu Kuza

She folds the letter unceremoniously, one corner not meeting the other. The edges bend as she stuff the parchment into an envelope, then seals it half-heartedly with wax. She seals the envelope.

She seals two young people’s fates. 

She doesn’t have a choice.

Chapter Text

The death of their parents came suddenly and unexpectedly. It wasn’t a sickness that took them, nor was it war or injury. A nightfall before, all had been well. Morning had risen, revealing the world changed. Her parents were gone. Quietly swallowed by the same ocean waves she had longed to sail all her life. 

The very same ones she travelled on now. She’s even taking the same route. Somewhere down beneath the surface-

Cold tub water splashes her face, reminding her of her surroundings. Curious brows eyes follow her every move, taking in every one of her hitched breaths. As soon as she meets them, they look away, leaving her to sink back into the storm of her own thoughts. 

She presses her lips into a thin line, ignoring the shivers that run down her spine. Goosebumps rise on her skin and she wraps her arms around her middle. The water has long gone from comfortably warm to chillingly cool. Her lips have turned bluish, the skin on her fingers wrinkles.  

“Your presence is requested at Grand Hall, m’lady.” 

The mouse-haired chambermaid softly raises her voice, shaking her out of her thoughts. She forgot her name. She never forgets a name. Especially not the ones of people taking care of her. Name’s carry power, it’s one of the first things she learned from her mother. 

Tears cloud her vision. She blinks them away. Without another breath, she stands up, rising from the water. Drops of water glide down her sides and legs, dripping onto the wooden planks of the ship. The maid scrambles for a towel, a surprised squeak leaving her lips as she tries to politely avert her eyes from her nakedness. 

She could care less. 

After years of sickness, of doctors prodding at her, looking at her from every angle, she has lost her sense of modesty. Her body is just that: a body. A vessel to carry her thoughts and feelings. Her soul. 

She reaches her hand out, absentmindedly, and takes the towel from the blushing chambermaid. The woman turns, decent enough to give her at least the illusion of privacy. Tish rubs the fabric over her skin until it turns from pink to red, until the sting reminds her that this really is reality. With a gulp, she wraps the towel around her body. 

Objectively, she knows she’s beautiful. How could she not if all that’s been talked about for the last few weeks was how desirable she would be as a bride for some far-away lord. Whoever got to take her hand would be so happy . She’s pretty to look at, after all. It doesn’t matter that she is well-spoken. It doesn’t matter that she has read every novel their library holds and can recite every page of their astronomy tomes. She can calculate how much wood would be needed to build a cupboard in her head, can work a saw and hammer just as confidently as a needle and thread. 

It doesn’t matter, though. She’s pretty. Like a painting to be hung and looked upon. And that will always be the most important thing to the people around her. 

“’m terribly sorry, m’lady, but I was asked to hurry you along?”

Tish blinks, then shakes her head, pushing her thoughts back into the darkest corner of her mind. None of that matters anymore because in just a few days, she will be married to Lord Hassian Kuza and there is nothing she can do to change her fate. She doesn’t have a choice. She never had.

“Of course, I apologize for the delay, uh-” She looks at the chambermaid, silently begging her mind to provide her with a name. She needs to remember her name.

“Name’s Hazel, m’lady,” the young woman says, patience and understanding swinging in her voice. Sympathy swims in her warm, brown eyes. It's the first genuine look of compassion she has gotten in days.

“Hazel.” She gives her a soft, broken smile. “I will make sure to remember. I promise."

She lets herself be guided to sit in front of the mirror. The woman staring back at her is someone vaguely resembling her. Those blue orbs are still her eyes, yet they are vastly different from the ones that looked back at her just days ago. They’re a different color. Darker. Heavier. More tired and worn out. 

Hazel carefully moves the wooden brush over her hair, smoothing out every knot she can find. Tish feels her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. She doesn’t remember the last time she properly brushed them. Usually, she would make a ritual out of taking care of her hair. Reth and her would often do it together, celebrating the evening as if it was something special even though it was just a normal day. Her heart clenches at the thought of his coarse, curly hair between her fingertips when she braided it and the smile on his face. She hasn't seen that smile for a long time, even before their parents…

She misses him. She misses the man her brother was before whatever happened happened. From one day to the other the joy died in his eyes. His laughter turned quiet and forced. He hasn't been the same man since. She can see the shadow inside him, can feel the weight pulling on him yet she does not know how to help him. He won't talk to her, holds his secrets closer than she holds her diary. There's an invisible lock on his chest she can not find the key for. 

He’s been dying inside and she can’t find a cure.

The memory of their conversation swims through her mind. How guilt seemed to eat him up from the inside out even though their parents death had been out of his control. All of this is out of his control.

---

“I am sorry, Tish. This should never have been your burden to carry,” Reth sighs, burying his face in his hands with a sob. “I should be the one taking over. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

She steps closer, gently placing her hand on his shaking shoulder. “You have, Reth. You have given me everything you can,” she says softly. “The rest was out of your control.” 

Tish leans against her brother, wrapping her arms around his huddled form to press her face to the warmth of his back. “This isn’t your fault, Reth.”

Reth lets out a shaking breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He turns his head, meeting his sister’s forehead with his own. He leans against her, seeking her support just as she has so often before. Back when her sickness had been their only worry. 

“What are we gonna do, Tish? How will we get out of this mess?”

She shrugs her shoulders. 

“I might have a solution, if I am allowed to offer one.”

Her ocean eyes seek the other man sitting quietly in his chair at the other end of the table. His hands lay folded neatly on the table but his index finger taps against the wood. Their gaze meets, hesitancy swirling in his light grey orbs. She nods softly, urging him wordlessly to go along.

“Your parents have been friends with Lady Sifuu Kuza for a very long time. So have I. She is a strong ally in this. I-” He stops, contemplating his next words. “I have taken the agency of contacting her in hopes she would agree to a marriage between you, my Lady, and her son, Lord Hassian.” 

Her whole body tenses. She forces herself to take a deep breath, trying desperately to swallow the nausea filling her belly. If only she could hide that mind-numbing fear behind the overplayed interest she displays on the surface. Her face feels like stone, heavy and unmoving. 

“You can’t just marry her off , Ashura.” Reth’s head shoots up, nearly knocking into Tish’s. “She has barley found her footing, now you want to ship her half-way round Palia to marry some-”

“Has she agreed?” Tish interrupts him, her question almost delicate in comparison to Reth’s cutting edge. 

Ashura nods. “She has. We are ready to depart whenever you give the word, my Lady.” 

Reth’s gaze flickers wildly between them, his eyes wide and unbelieving. “You can not seriously consider this, Tish. This is madness. You’ve never met that man.”

Softly, she reaches out her hand to stroke over her brother’s hair. A pained smile passes over her lips. “Ashura said our parents were friends with this family for a long time. And he is, too.” 

She looks over at their newly appointed guardian. Their Shepp. They both chose Ashura to guide them and he has done nothing but watch over them ever since he took that duty. He has done his best to navigate this unexpected, painful situation to secure their comfort and safety. At a time where the wolves are scratching at their doors, he has put himself before them as a shield. 

She would, no, she will trust him with her life.

“Do you really think our parents would befriend someone that wouldn’t share their values? If not anything else, the least I can do is trust Ashura, right?” She tilts her head in question, another half-hearted smile tugging at her lips.

Reth follows her gaze, the ocean reflecting in his eyes as they water. Ashura gives him a pained look but slowly nods his head in agreement. He bites his bottom lip. His knee jerks up and down, the anxiety cursing through his veins is almost palpable. “Is he a good man?” 

The question fills the silence with a loaded heaviness. She holds her breath. 

“He is,” Ashura says. “For that I would lay my hand in fire.” 

Tish settles her gaze on the white of the wall to calm her thoughts. There is nothing to fear, really. If he really is a good man, maybe she could even learn to like him. And if not, then she could surely find a way to exist beside him. A castle surely is big enough to find room for her, away from her husband, if push comes to shove. Maybe all of this isn’t as dire as they make it out to be. Countless love stories in her romance books start in a crooked, unconventional way and unusual doesn’t automatically equal impossible. 

Even if Hassian, - is that his name? - turns out to be a devastatingly rude man, it is not like she has much choice. Of course, there are a dozen suitors waiting at her doorstep to pack her up and whisk her away to Dragon knows where but how would she know who of them is gracious and good? She has nothing to go on. And then, there’s Eshelon Bahari, who has made it very clear that he was very… taken with her. 

A shiver runs down her spine. No. She really doesn’t have much choice because just the thought of laying her life in that man's hand makes her retch. His eyes are empty and cold. There’s no life to him. No joy. Only hunger for power and, well, her. Whenever he looks at her, heated and already so sure of his victory, her soul claws at her insides with the want to crawl out of her body. 

It scares her. 

He scares her.

“So be it then,” she says, abruptly ending her trail of thought. “I will marry Hassian Kuza and become his wife.” 

Reth wails as he breaks apart, his head dropping on the dining table with a broken sob.

---

The brush tugs at her hair, forcing her to jerk back with a pained hiss. Her fingers fly up to press down where it stings most. With a thud the brush tumbles to the ground. Hazel holds up her hands like she’s been burned. Her body trembles as she stares at her through the mirror.

“’m so sorry, m’lady. I didn't mean to,” she gasps. Her breath stutters, her eyes widen as panic flickers in them. 

Tish's heart aches in her chest. How much punishment has this young girl been put through in response to her mistakes? It’s despicable, the thought of someone inflicting pain for something she has no fault in. 

She shakes her head, reaching down to pick up the brush. Turning in her chair, she gently puts it back into the chambermaids shaking hands with a soft smile. 

“It is alright, Hazel,” she says, lowering her face as shame creeps up her back. “It’s my fault. I should have taken better care of it but I have been…” She pauses, thinking about how to justify her lack of self care. Has she been too tired? Too sad? Hopeful that the unkempt state of her hair would scare off the suitors so she wouldn't have to call any of them her husband?

Hazel gives her an understanding look. She picks up another strand of golden hair, carefully brushing through the ends. “I’ll be more mindful now, ‘m lady.” 

In a matter of minutes the locks of her hair have been tied and braided into an intricate bundle against the nape of her neck. The weight pulls at her, straightening her spine and forcing her to look forward. 

She meets her own eyes again, wondering if someday she’ll find the woman she was in her reflection again or if she will watch herself turn into someone else. Someone new. She only hopes she will learn to like that person. 

Chapter Text

“‘M lady, look.”

Small hands tugs at her body and the landscape of dreams she’s sunk into shakes and tilts. She groans, still half lost in sleep. Hazel throws the curtains wide open and light pours in through the windows. Her eyes flutter like moths wings as she raises a hand to shield herself from the bright sunlight blinding her. Tish blinks against it, consciousness seeping in. Outside the ocean water laps at the round windows just as it did the day before…but there’s something else. Something other than the endless depths of the sea and the blue of the waves.

“Look! The castle's close.” 

Her eyes snap fully open, wide with a mixture of excitement and dread. With a hammering heart she feels for the cool wood planks beneath her feet blindly, searching for stability. Tish swallows, trying to force her legs into movement but finds herself snared by reality rushing in. She has nowhere to run, no way to turn back. She promised her hand in marriage to a stranger…

What if she looks out that window and hates what she finds? What if the castle is a cage - dark and uninviting? What if she will be stuck in a cold and heartless place for the rest of her life? 

The ship rocks as it passes over another wave. She lurches forward with a gasp, arms flailing to find balance. Hazel awaits her, ever the devoted servant, catching her with open arms. The maids' eyes sparkle with the innocence of a child going on an adventure and Tish feels the bitter sting of jealousy. 

“Your new home waits for you.” Hazel gives her a warm smile, her face softening with sympathy. “I think you’ll like it, ‘m lady.” 

Tish takes another deep breath, straightening her spine to brace herself for the worst. With careful fingertips she moves the curtains to the side, risking only a peak outside. Just a glimpse, she tells herself, and then she’ll know what to expect. 

And then - there it is.

“Oh…” 

Rocky mountain peaks reach into the cloudless sky, as if trying to touch the sun. Forest green reflects golden rays of sun, sparkling as if infused with magic. A flock of birds stirs between the masses of trees, flying high into the skies above. Beds of wildflowers flow down the sides of the hills, painting a canvas full of color to be admired even from a distance. 

And then there, nestled between the jagged peaks and lush woodland, it stands: proud and elegant, as if grown from the rock itself. The castle she will soon call home.

Not the grim fortress she feared nor the prison she dreaded but more a thing sprung from one of her fairytales. A place bursting with proud wilderness and whispers of strength. Vines sprout from the ground, climbing up the castle walls as if they are woven into the stone. The whole castle feels like it’s one with the woods and the surrounding landscape, an integral part instead of some foreign influence. White marble figurines perched on top of the spires - a grand plumehound and a proudhorned sernuk - look out over the vast ocean to greet visitors and sailors passing by. Guardians closely and silently surveilling the sky and sea. 

“It's marvelous,” she says breathily. 

Relief floods her veins. It isn’t hideous or dark or cold. Instead, she feels warmth as she looks upon the rustic yet impressive structures built of enduring stone and elegant, sleek marble.

“Yeah, it's a pretty sight, I say.” Hazel squeezes in next to her to peek out the window with a grin. She bumps into Tish as the ship sways again and tenses as she remembers herself. Straightening her back, she quickly clears her throat and folds her hands in front of her middle. “I better get to preparing you for your arrival, ‘m lady. We will soon reach our destination.” 

Tish chuckles softly, shaking her head. “It’s okay to be a little curious, Hazel. This will soon be your home, too, after all.” 

She scoots over, making room for Hazle to settle in next to her. They stare out the window, both wide-eyed and awestruck by the structure rising before them and a strange calmness fills her as she looks upon the lands that will become hers in name in only a few nights. I could be happy here , she thinks. Or, at the very least, I could find solace in the beauty of my new home.

“Home…” she whispers, staring at the landscapes unfolding before her, the word fragile on her tongue.

---

Leaving the ship feels like stepping out of a sea-bound prison. She’s been swaying from side to side for so many days her body barely remembers the feeling of solid ground beneath her feet. As soon as her toes touch the uneven stoney pavement, she stumbles. Her fingertips dig into Hazel’s arm, a desperate attempt to find balance. The air is fresh and clear, a cool breeze carrying the scent of wet earth and sunkissed flower beds. She sucks in a breath, eager to breathe in something other than salty wind. 

Heavy footsteps follow her and a deep, rumbling voice bellows orders to the servants hastily carrying chests and suitcases off board. She glances over her shoulder, her eyes meeting Ashura’s kind, warm ones as the tall man rolls his broad shoulders with a pained groan. 

“I’ll never get used to being confined to a ship for days,” he grumbles, running a hand through his beard. He reaches her side with only two strides, his inquisitive eyes looking her up and down. “Are you okay, Lady Tish?” 

She rolls her eyes. “There’s no need to be formal, Ashura. It’s just us.” 

The grey-haired man gives her a soft smile. “Ah, yes, my lady but you will be a noble woman soon.” His face twists into a pained expression when he presses out his next words. “A married woman.”

Tish averts her eyes, swallowing down what feels like a monument of stones lodged in her throat. She’s managed to successfully postpone the realization of the reality of her situation for most of the journey. Seeing the castle rise before her makes the path of ignorance a hard one to follow further though. There’s only so much time she can spend running from fate before it catches up with her. She squints up at the winding road leading up the mountain to the castle entrance. 

“The carriages will be here any minute now.” Ashura turns to show the servants where to place chests just as the unmistakable click-clack of sernuk hooves and the sound of wooden wheels crushing pebbles fills the air. 

She stares ahead, wondering if this will be the moment she first meets her husband. The man she will spend the rest of her life with. Dust rises, filling the air, as the first carriage grinds to a halt. The sernuk neighs and huffs out a labored breath. 

For a moment, time freezes as she stands and waits, her breath stuck in her chest. 

The doorknob turns. Slowly, the carriage door opens. A strong, broad-shouldered man dressed in dusty, sturdy boots, muted trousers and a matching shirt steps out. And is that...a pickaxe on his thick belt? Strands of dark hair fall into his face when he jumps off the carriage with a pained groan. He pushes them away with a huff, revealing a pair of striking blue eyes. 

She holds her breath, looking up at him. He’s taller than her but not by much. Just a few inches. His features are strong, hard lines sculpt his jaw and cheekbones and even with the streaks of dirt on his face she can’t deny he is a very good looking man.

“Welcome, Lady Tish,” he says, his voice low and deep. Her heart nearly skips a beat. As if the sight of him wasn’t enough to make a rush of relief wash through her, his voice made her cheeks flush with heat. 

He’s older than she imagined him to be. She’d expected someone…younger, more her age, but she’s definitely not unhappy with the man before her. His rugged style of fashion intrigues her. Why would a Lord with fortunes to call upon dirty himself with a past-time like mining?

The man doesn’t bow as much as he nods in her direction when he greets her yet it doesn’t feel disrespectful. A little unpolished maybe but not unwelcoming. 

“Ashura, old friend. Good t’ see you.” He settles his gaze on Ashura, who still lingers behind her but steps forward with a bright smile when the other man greets him. 

Tish furrows her brows. Old friend? Didn’t Ashura say he hasn’t seen Hassian for years? How could they be old friends? Her eyes shift between them, from one to the other, confusion written all over her face. 

“‘m Lady,” The handsome man turns his attention to her again, clearing his throat. He runs his hand through his dark hair once again. “Sifuu, I mean…Lady Kuza sends her apologies. It’ll take a little longer ‘til y’all can meet formally, she’s stuck on a hunt 'n sent me to make sure y’all get to the castle safe ‘n sound.” 

Her face falls. 

Red, hot embarrassment rises on her face.

Disappointment settles like ice in her veins. 

The handsome stranger isn’t her husband.

Chapter Text

The journey up the steep mountain road is a welcome distraction from her cheeks heating up with embarrassment. Rolling over rocky ground, the carriage shakes every time her mind finds a hook to hang itself on, clinging to the cold realization that she really has no idea who she will call her husband in just a few days' time. She should’ve asked more questions. 

No - Ashura should have given her more answers .

His deep laughter vibrates in the cool mountain air. He’s chosen to take his place next to the carriage driver to catch up with his old friend . She blushes again, thinking how she almost introduced herself as his future wife, if the man hadn’t revealed who he truly was before she could speak. 

“Name’s Hodari, m’lady. I’m the local head of the mining guild.”  

He’d reached out his hand for hers, shaking it as if he was greeting no one else than a mere chamber maiden. Warm, but still respectfully distant. Somehow, she’d liked that. No special treatment. For a second, she wasn’t a lady, not a noble, just…a normal person. Once again, the thought strikes her that, for someone else, he was probably a wonderful man to call a husband. 

Not hers, though.

Her eyes follow the lines of trees outside, a rush of lush, dark green and deep, muddy brown. As if someone wiped over a fresh forest painting, only leaving streaks. Heaviness settles in her chest, blurring her vision as tears rise. A shudder runs through her, slender fingers trembling where she has hidden them in the fabric of her full skirts.

She blinks away the rising saltwater. Bites the inside of her cheek. Her heart clenches tighter with every mile they make up the mountain. The castle inches closer, her fate no longer a distant ‘if’ and ‘when’ but a close reality clawing at her insides with sharp nails. 

She has felt pain before, she endured more procedures than others have known in their lifetime. She knows hopelessness, the calling of the light of the end of the tunnel has never scared her. This, however, this dread, this deep, unsettling hollowness as she looks up at the castle spires is unknown to her. 

Nobody ever taught her how to handle fear. Her mother never told her what to do, always promising to never give her hand away to someone she dislikes. Promising a life filled with love and joy and beauty. A fairytale of light and laughter she could hold onto when death reached its claws for her. 

A single storm swept away all her happiness, leaving her stranded and sinking in the empty ocean. She’s all alone now. No mother to guide her, no father to squeeze her hand and Reth…

She digs her fingernails into her palm so tightly it sends stinging pain up her arm. Her eyes settle on the empty spot in her carriage. The one where Reth was supposed to sit beside her to see her through this. Holding her hand, giving her strength. The dull emptiness she feels instead of his warm, comforting presence sends shivers down her spine. 

“I’ll be there before you know it, Tish. I promise.”

Something happened. Something he needed to take care of first. Ashura and Reth spent days whispering, falling silent whenever she looked their way. The heavy cloak of secrecy hung around them like thick, impenetrable fog. They were in sight, yet out of reach for her. 

And now, she’s left sitting in a carriage owned by a stranger’s family, on her way to marry a man she has not even an image of. She doesn’t know who to expect, doesn’t know if she will ever grow to even like him. If he's ugly, she muses, she could live with it. Better ugly than unkind. Better unsightly than a charming prince hiding a violent streak behind his blinding smile. 

Another shiver runs down her spine as her memory takes her back to the moment she met Eshelon Bahari. How he held her hand, so softly for everyone else's eyes, yet she still feels the sting of his sharp-tipped fingernails against her skin. 

A silent, forceful claim to her hand, invisible to everyone around them.

A claim to her name. Her land. Her home. Everything she owns and is.

She’d jerked her hand back so forcefully she nearly elbowed Reth, who stood beside her,  in the gut. Eshelon’s eyes still twinkled as if he had already won whatever game he thought he was playing, smiling so enchantingly she could see every maiden’s heart melt around them with jealousy.  

Anyone is better than him.

Her chest clenches, stinging as she realizes she has been holding her breath. She shakes, letting air into her lungs. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turns her gaze from the beautiful, luscious landscape flying by outside instead focusing on the dark wood of the carriage walls. 

Find a point to focus on. 

Calm your breath. 

Keep your composure.

The voice of her mother sings in her mind, the memory embracing her in warmth. 

You are strong, my love. You can endure whatever comes your way.

She sucks in another shaky breath. Somehow, the carriage walls are closing in on her, the space becoming smaller by every second that passes. She knows what that means. There is no escaping the rising panic while she's confined, she will drown in it. Suffocate in it. 

Heat rises, claiming her body, changing the color of her skin from soft pink to dark magenta. Her vision swims, the lack of air making her dizzy as she gets rocked from side to side. For a moment, she thinks she’s gonna fall. She’ll probably hit her head. Hard. Trembling hands shoot out in a desperate attempt to find balance, something to hold onto.

Reth should be here to catch you.

The thought rips at her soul, leaving her retching as sobs break free from her chest. She’s on her own in this. She needs someone to hold her, to catch her, to keep her sane. She needs her brother. She needs Reth by her side. 

The carriage rocks to a halt, throwing her forward. She catches herself on the opposite bench, fingertips clutching at the velvet covering the wood beneath. Water drips down her face. Tears. Or maybe sweat from the heat. Her corset clinches her in as she tries to suck in more air, her breath hitching. 

Creaking, the carriage door opens. A broad shadow falls upon her. She turns to look at whoever’s there, heaving and wide-eyed. 

“Tish?” 

Ashura’s burly figure shields her from the sun rising high above the skies, blocking the entrance. Locking her inside the carriage. Her heart thunders inside her chest, bile rising in her throat. She jumps to her feet, lunging for escape.

“I need air,” she pushes out, the words more breath than voice. 

With strength she didn’t know she had, she pushes Ashura from the entrance, squeezing through the small space she so forcefully created. Her knees hit the ground as she stumbles out the carriage, right into the dust in front of the handsome miner’s feet. "Whoa, easy there, lass." Sharp pebbles dig into the palms of her hand, ripping her delicate skin when she hurriedly pushes herself up to her feet. Her chest aches, her heart races. All eyes are on her. 

She’s a bird trapped in a cage. A fox with its paw stuck in a snare.

“Tish, slow down. Let me-” 

She never hears the rest of the sentence, drowns out Ashura's voice following her. 

She runs. 

And runs. 

And runs.

Until the ground under her turns from hard rock to soft grass. Until the air doesn’t suffocate her anymore but coddles her in a comforting, cold embrace. Until the sound of rushing water calms her mind.

Until she stumbles and lands in a soft bed of moss.

Chapter Text

It shouldn't come as a suprise that the ship the Keitas arrive with is fit to carry a small army. They have built their wealth and influence on carpentry, it’s only logical for them to own ships of proportionate size to transport expensive furniture. Still, the tumult with which they arrive leaves an anxious tingling in his limbs. 

It is too loud. 

Too hectic. 

And all for the sake of this hoax of a marriage he is about to engage in. 

Hassian swallows down the bitter taste of hopelessness. There really is no other option than to agree to Master Ashura's offer. Lady Keita has to marry to keep her wealth and status and he…well, he certainly has his own spot on the Orders list of people they have their eye on. This marriage is his chance to prove his worth. To restore his standing and the Orders trust. 

To save his mother’s name.

He breathes out, steadily pressing air out between his teeth to calm himself. In the distance, half hidden behind the stump of a mossy tree, the shape of Sernuk moves into view. With calculated steps, he moves to avoid the wind carrying his scent. A practiced hand reaches for the quiver, the other holding the bow steady. The weight of the arrow is a familiar comfort between his fingertips. 

He holds his breath. 

Tau’s ears perk up. 

Just one more moment, another second so he can get the angle just right.

A dull echo rumbles through the trees. Carriage wheels on damp earth. The sernuk raises his head, eyes alert and before he can react, their gazes cross. With a startled jump, the animal scatters and runs off into the thicket of the woods.

The Keitas have arrived, or so it seems.

Hassian growls, lowering his bow with an angry scowl. Following the sernuk wouldn’t do any good, not when it’s alert and scared. He hangs the bow over his shoulder. Annoyance settles in his chest when he runs a hand over his face. His eyes feel heavy and tired. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, rolling from side to side on the hunt for dreams.

Tau whines next to his feet. Hassian’s hand blindly finds the plumehound’s fur, lacing his fingers through the silky strands of hair. The companion hound looks up at him with large, twinkling eyes, his head twitching into the direction of the castle almost noticeably.

“I know,” Hassian huffs.

Silently, they make their way up the hills, his feet treading the mossy ground like he has never known any other terrain. In a way, he never has. The woods have always felt like home, even more so since his momma passed. He hears her in the song of the birds and the rush of the river, and feels her whenever he rests against the sharp bark of a tree. The forest has always been theirs . 

The wind carries unfamiliar voices down the treelines. There seems to be a ruckus already, from what he can hear. Tau lets out a bark, jumping up and down. Hassian rolls his eyes. Of course there’s drama immediately. 

A rustle breaks through the bushes, branches crack under the weight of hurried footsteps. He whips around, surprise on his face as he follows a wisp of gold and light green down the steep slope. Whoever runs moves too fast for this terrain. Whoever’s making their way down the hill will, eventually, meet the ground, he knows that much. 

Tau’s on his feet with a whimper before Hassian can hold him back, following the stranger’s trail. “Tau,” he hisses. “Get back here.” 

It’s no use. The plumehound has always had his own head, ever since he was a puppy and Hassian has always let him make his own rules. He regrets that now, as he moves through blackberry bushes, struggling to not lose the hound in the process. 

Somewhere before them, he hears the shriek of a female voice and the dull sound of a body meeting the damp ground. 

With a sudden halt, Tau stops. Hassian grabs onto the bark of an oak tree to find balance and shielding. A wet, cold snout nudges his leg. Large, yellow eyes stare ahead at the clearing opening up before them.

The river rushes, mixing with the wind. Nature’s lullaby. And there, between the flow of water and the whispers of air, he hears it. A whimper. A sobbing. The sound of sadness and frustration. Blinking, he dares a peek beyond the massive oak tree. 

Huddled on the ground sits a figure, small and shaking. Golden curls flow down her back, unkempt and loose. Thin branches tangle in her locks, like she’s a wild animal that just escaped captivity. Her hands are dirtied with dark earth but he can see the tone of her skin, soft pink like the petals of an orchid.

A chaapa rustles through the bushes in search of berries. The woman looks up, eyes wide and panicked. She freezes, her face tear streaked and her cheeks reddened. She looks sad and tired and-

He sucks in a breath, enamored in just a blink by the twinkle of blue in her eyes. The rumors didn’t lie. Lady Tish is beautiful. Radiant, even. She’s pretty like the sun itself, with her feet bare and her hair undone. A blossoming flower in a field of weeds. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen someone more befitting of the word ‘beautiful’.

He knows not to trust beauty, though. Knows firsthand that it’s a treacherous thing. Beauty will make people fall for even the most wretched of creatures. She was - no, is - beautiful. And he fell for her spell like a drowning sailor falls to a siren's song. Easily, desperately, with all of his body and soul.

His stomach sours at the thought of her. The woman that leeched onto his insecurities in the hours where he was at his most vulnerable. She took his heart in her sharp-nailed hands, twisting and turning reality until he forgot who he was and what was at stake. The woman that caused his downfall.

No , he tells himself. You let her cause your downfall . 

Tau whines at his feet. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Tau," he whispers.

The plumehound tilts his head, his snout twitching into the direction of the clearing interestedly. 

"No, Tau. Sit down." Hassian says sternly. Tau plops onto his stomach with an unsatisfied growl.

He steals another peek around the trees. His eyes find the woman crying again. She has moved to rest against a large rock at the riverbed, running her fingers through the cold water. It almost feels inappropriate, watching her in a moment where she is so vulnerable but the argument could be made that she is on his land. Sitting in the woods he calls his own. This is his territory.  He bites his tongue at the thought that in a fortnight, it would also be hers .

Soft fur brushes against his legs and he looks down to see his companion already on his feet. “Tau? Hey-” 

The plumehound whisks through the bushes, his fur tangling in the leaves. Three strides later, he successfully wiggled his way through, baringing forth towards an unsuspecting Lady Keita still huddled on the ground. Hassian runs a hand over his face, contemplating if he should just hide away. This surely wasn’t he imagined first meeting his future wife. 

“Oh Dragon…”

Chapter Text

The earth holds her, steady and calm, so different from the waves of the sea she knows so well. It doesn’t shake or stir, even when she feels the world is spinning. Instead, it comforts her with the stillness of nature, the soft pillowing of moss underneath her trembling hand.

Her chest heaves and cold, fresh air fills her lungs. It rushes through her as a shiver, cooling down her wildly beating heart and galloping thoughts. With the embrace of the trees around her, she feels safe to finally breathe in. 

Her fingers reach for the element she knows best, longing for the sound that has accompanied her since the day she was born to find a flicker of safety and familiarity in. It’s icy on her skin, so much it almost hurts when her skin first touches the surface of the river water. The cold shocks her enough to bring her mind back to clarity, leaving her gasping until her breath slows. 

She ran away. 

It must present a strange picture to the miner, Hodari, who brought their carriages up the hill. Like a child running from consequence. As if she didn’t choose this with open eyes, knowing what her fate would be. She signed her name on the promise with her own hand. She should be stronger, more resilient, more…

She isn’t though. She can’t be. Not with her hands shaking and her breath hitching. Not with uncertainty biting at her heels like ravenous muujins. Her fingers weave into the skirts of her dress. Yellow, her mother’s favourite color. Her throat clenches again as another onslaught of tears burns in her chest. She squeezes her eyes closed.

What will Lord Hassian say when he finds out she ran before she even had a chance to meet him? He’ll probably send her back with the ocean waves like an unwanted present…and he’d be right to do it. Not even a day and she has already embarrassed herself and her house. All those lessons, hours on hours with no end in sight learning how she is supposed to behave at court, in the company of a Lord. Most of the rules are ridiculous, she knows they are, but they are the rules of Palian society. She knows first-hand what happens to people who refuse to follow them.

Her heart clenches as she thinks of Reth, all alone back in their estate. She wonders if he misses her the same way she misses him. Wonders if whatever is keeping him there really is as important as it seems. More important than him coming with her to see her off into…well, this. 

Somewhere around her, the bushes rustle. She holds her breath. Mud splashes as someone, something comes closer to her. Her eyes snap open and-

The scream dies in her throat. 

The creature before her sits on its hindlegs, its tongue lolling out as it watches her with bright, yellow eyes. It looks at her curiously, tilting its head as it studies her. She should be scared, probably, seeing as the dog is right on her eye level but instead, her chest fills with warmth at its sight. Slowly, it shuffles closer, closing the distance between them inch by inch. Laughter bubbles from within her when he nudges her hand with his snout, a playful and silent but very persistent request.

“Oh, hello,” she breathes out, a soft smile on her lips. Her fingers tangle in the hound’s dark blue fur, warmth and softness a comfort under her fingertips. The dog nuzzles closer, a low hum of satisfaction running through its body. “And who might you be, you dashing boy?” 

Woof!

The hound jumps up and down, turning to chase its own tail. Even though it is quite obviously fully grown, it acts like a puppy, barking excitedly. It stops before her, nudging at the pockets of her dress insistently. Another laugh escapes her. “I am terribly sorry, I don’t have any treats on me but I will remember to carry some in my pocket from now on.” She smiles down at the animal. “Just in case we happen to meet again.”

The animal places its paws on her thighs, pushing its head into her lap. He’s heavy but not uncomfortably so. On the contrary, the weight on her body feels like a blanket wrapping around her, soaking up all her anxiety. Her heartbeat settles. She leans back against the rock behind her, relaxing as she runs her hands through its fur. “Oh, you are such a lovely dog. What’s your name, huh?”

“His name is Tau.” A low voice answers from the other side of the clearing. “He’s a plumehound.” 

For the second time in a matter of minutes, her heartbeat jumps. Her eyes snap up to find herself tangled with a gaze that leaves her no place to hide. He looks right at her, through her…into her. 

A young Majiri man stands at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed across his chest and his boots dug into the earth beneath him. His leather armor clinging to his body as if it was moulded onto him. Or maybe he was poured into it? A bow and a quiver filled with sharp, pointy arrows hang over his strong, slender shoulders. He looks like he belongs here, into these woods. Like he’s part of them, breathes with them, moves with them. 

Heat creeps up her neck. Her heart, so erratic at first, suddenly holds its beat. It sits, still and waiting, as she tangles in the vines of his gaze. His eyes… She swallows, trying to calm down. The color of the forests reflects in his eyes, dark and mysterious. The kind that people lose their way in.

Somehow, she fears, she’s already halfway lost. 

---

Tau loves her. Of course Tau loves her. Tau loves everyone. Well, almost everyone. Especially the people who rub him behind his ears and let him jump into their lap like Lady Tish does so willingly. 

He stands in the shadows of the pine trees, pausing in his movement to just…watch her. There’s something about her, something about this picture before him that makes him want to take just another moment to admire her. 

Admire the clearing, he corrects himself in his mind. This has nothing to do with her. She’s just a pretty woman sitting in a picturesque landscape and, much like a painting, it captures his gaze. But there’s a lot of pretty women out there. It has nothing to do with her, the way his eyes linger just a little longer.

“And who might you be, you dashing boy?” Her voice is light and airy like a summer drizzle. Melodic as a song carried in the trees. Like a lullaby luring him in. Like magic. 

He reels back, stepping into the bushes for more cover. His ears perk up as she speaks softly to Tau and he feels the strings of curiosity pull on him. In his chest, his heart races, hammering against his ribcage, fluttering in his throat. Like magic. He’s known his fair share of magic. It can’t be trusted. This pull, this interest, this urge to get closer…it can’t be real. 

It’s a trick. 

A trap to lure him in and ensnare him. In reality, isn’t he already trapped? His name is to be hers, the lands are to be hers. His home is to be hers, soon enough. He will sign his name on the contract and she will give up hers. They’ll both be trapped.

She laughs like chimes in the wind, so bright and clear. The golden sunlight filters through the trees, illuminating her blonde hair and with the color of her dress it almost seems like she’s glowing with the sun. 

Tau jumps around her, his tail wagging and she clasps her hands, pressing them to her chest with a joyous sound. The hound curls into Lady Tish’s lap when she leans back. “Oh, you are such a lovely dog. What’s your name, huh?”

He can’t stand here forever, sprouting roots while he watches. At some point, he will have to make himself known if he wants Tau to come back to the castle with him. There’s no clocks in the woods but he can read the time in the nature around him, the way the sun moves and throws shadows. It’s time to get back. His mother will be waiting. 

“His name is Tau.” 

He steps out from between the bushes. Standing in the light of the clearing feels like stripping off his armor. It’s leaving him vulnerable, coming out of hiding. His throat tightens and his legs twitch with the urge to run. There’s an aura about her, one that intrigues him and scares him in equal amounts. It’s never a good thing to be blinded by attraction. 

“He’s a plumehound.”

The way she looks up at him with wide eyes feels like she’s seeing right through the leather and cotton of his armor. She gapes at him, her pink mouth open in surprise. For a heartbeat, they just look at the other in silence, taking the other in as the realization settles in that they will soon call each other spouse. 

Husband and wife. 

She blinks, then spurs into motion as she seems to remember her lessons. Tau jumps from her lap, barking in protest. Patting the dirt from her dress, she quickly schools her face. Glowing joy softens into a neutral demurness. She slips into her role almost effortlessly. The role of Lady Tish, proper and prim. A picture of grace and beauty. 

“My apologies, I didn’t know.” She lifts the edges of her skirt and curtsies deeply before him. “My lord.” 

“Please, no need to do that.” He feels sharp heat creep up his neck. In his lifetime, he hasn’t met a lot of ladies of the court and every time he has, he has made a swift exit to flee the scene. It doesn’t sit right with him, seeing them bow before him. Especially not her, not here in the middle of the forest with no one around to witness them. A strange feeling settles in his stomach. 

“Are you-” He rubs his shoulder, his arms still crossed. Relax a little. Show her you’re no threat, his mother’s voice plays in his mind and he lets his arms sink. They hang at his side, awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do with them. He never does. Clearing his throat, he gestures to the woods around them. “Are you enjoying the lands?”

She seems taken back, only blinking at him in wonder while she takes him in. “Oh yes, my lord, they are quite beautiful. Different from the ones at home.” 

She turns to the river rushing next to her and the seam of her yellow dress drags after her in the mud. He makes a mental note to send a maid to her quarters to have it washed when they get back to the castle. 

“It’s quiet out here. Peaceful.” Her voice is a wistful whisper laced with a longing so obvious, he can’t help but relate. A silent wish for something impossible. He’s spent a lot of wishes on a lot of shooting stars ever since his mother’s passing. 

He hums softly in understanding. “Is that what you were looking for? A place to find some peace for yourself?”

“Ah…yes. I suppose.” Lady Tish hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the frills of her dress. A shiver runs through her, the breath in her throat hitching as she stares at the rippling water before her. “The journey has been long and, to be quite frank, exhausting. I was hoping to catch a breath of fresh air before-” 

She turns to glance at him, teeth nibbling nervously on her bottom lip.

“Before you are forced to meet your husband?” He doesn’t mean to say it as an accusation but the words cut his tongue nonetheless. They are sharp edged and he knows they are true, even when she gasps and shakes her head in denial.

“My apologies,” she rushes to say, her voice frail and breaking. “I didn’t mean to imply it would be a hardship to meet you. Quite the contrary, I was looking forward to it.” 

They both know she’s lying but she does it so sweetly, so innocently, her cheeks flushed and her eyes as bright as the moons. He almost believes her words. Makes him want to believe her.

“There’s no need to lie about these things Lady Tish,” he presses out between gritted teeth, his jaw tensing. “We both know what this is.”

Something flickers in her bright blue eyes. Something resembling ice that builds on a lake once winter arrives. Her warm, gentle voice trembles when she speaks. “And what, my lord, would you say this is?” 

 “A charade,” he hisses, so much sharper than he wants to. “A play we are to perform before the eyes of the vultures threatening our lives.” 

He regrets it instantly, seeing her flinch at his tone, but he also can’t help it. It seems nonsensical to engage in an illusion when it is so obvious. They’re lands are both on the edge of war, only a hair’s length away from collapsing. The Order is watching, all eyes are on them. There is no room for failure…and certainly no room for childish fairytales. 

Lady Tish straightens her posture, standing taller as she rolls her shoulders back. Her forehead wrinkles with disdain. “Is that so?” 

He digs his heels further into the mud beneath him, holding his ground. “There’s no use in lying to ourselves or pretending this is anything more than it is,” he says dismissively. It’s better to shatter the hopes now than giving her the illusion of them being anything else than actors in a play. “I for one haven't exactly awaited this day with excitement.”  

She sucks in a sharp breath. Tau winces between them, tucking in his tail as he curls around her legs. “I see.” 

For a heartbeat, a loaded silence settles between them. He watches silently as she buries her fingers in Tau’s midnight blue fur and he knows better than anyone else she’s seeking comfort in him. The hound stands still at her side, quietly whimpering. Guilt scratches its ugly claws over his chest like a beast. 

Ocean waves fill her eyes. Her hands tremble. He can see she’s biting her tongue, pressing her lips close. “Forgive me,” she says, quietly but controlled. Her voice quivers but she takes a deep breath to steady it. “I didn’t realize acknowledging the complications of our marriage would mean any efforts to shine a positive light on our predicament are for naught.”

He blinks. “I...I didn't-” 

“Or perhaps,” she continues, interrupting the words stumbling clumsily from his lips, “you simply meant to imply, my lord, that meeting each other with an open heart is a useless waste of energy. Clearly, you already know enough about me to have made your judgment that meeting me would be a dreadful hardship.” 

It hits him like a cold wave, the way she spits back at him, frustration flickering over her face. It’s a thin thread she’s holding onto and he can see it rippling, threatening to break. “I never said that,” he protests but he thought it. He knows he did and so does she.

“You didn’t need to, my lord.” She’s not looking at him anymore, staring past him instead. Her ocean eyes focus on the bark of the tree beside him, her jaw squared and her shoulders tense. She raises her chin. “The way you look at me is enough to make your thoughts clear.” 

There’s nothing left of the glowing, joyous woman he witnessed before. The one he watched from between the bushes like a coward. She’s smaller now, even though she straightens her back and pushes her face into the wind. It’s been mere minutes and he has already managed to suffocate her light. 

Don’t use your words as weapons, my darling boy, his mothers voice flickers through his mind. It’s still so vivid, so loud. Like she hasn’t passed away years ago. Like she’s still right beside her.  You can retrieve an arrow but you can’t take back the words you say.

He wishes he would’ve listened to her sooner. How do I fix this, momma? 

He wants to say something. He knows he should. The apology clings to the roof of his mouth, sticky and bitter. It would be proper to apologize. No, not just proper, it’s necessary. He spoke too quickly, his words too sharp and he hurt her. She’s trying to hide it, like she’s refusing to give him the satisfaction but she’s see-through, her eyes wide open like windows to her soul. She can’t hide and he feels nothing but guilt and anger and-

“I should’ve listened to my brother. It is clear the rumors are more than true.” 

The words cut through their silence like knives, taking him by surprise. He knows what people say, knows the stories that roam the lands about him. “And what rumors might that be?”

A cold wisp of wind lashes around them, tangling her long hair around her face. “That you are cold. And rude.” Her eyes meet his and he almost feels the pain running through her. She speaks so quietly he isn’t sure he’s imagining it. Just a whisper in the wind. “I was hoping to come here and prove him wrong…” 

He sucks in a sharp breath as the insult nudges itself right between his rips. His fingers curl into fists at his side. His jaw twitches. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my lady.” 

Lady Tish deflates, rounding her shoulders. Her thin arms wrap around her middle. She shivers, maybe from the cold, maybe from the realization that he isn’t the prince she was so obviously hoping for.

“Please excuse me, I have to make myself presentable for our official first meeting.”

You are already presentable. More than. He wants to say the words; wants to cut through the tension between them but his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. The words die in his throat.

“My lord.” 

She curtsies, bending her head so low he knows she’s exaggerating on purpose. Her trembling pink lips twist into a tight, overly polite smile. With a swish of her skirts, she rushes past him. He swears he hears her breath hitch as her shoulder brushes his. He knows that sound better than anyone. The broken sob of sadness swallowed.  

He can’t help but follow her with his gaze, heart clenching in his chest, his throat tight. Her golden curls glow in the afternoon sun as they swing from side to side with every step she walks further away from him. Her small, delicate hands carefully lift her skirts as she climbs up the hill. She really is beautiful.

And within another breath, she is gone. 

Tau lets out a low whine, pressing against his leg. He weaves his fingers into his soft, blue fur, a gesture so familiar to him it almost feels like a lifeline to hold onto. His heart still races, the blood rushing in his ears like the river. 

The smell of sundrop lilies and sugar cookies lingers in the air.

Chapter Text

The way back to the castle takes an eternity or at least, that is what it feels like. Logically, he knows that it can’t be. He walks at the same pace he usually does and the path up the hill is the same length as always and yet, the muddy ground seems to cling to him more and more with every step. He’s always been one with the forest, breathing with the winds, so maybe the earth can feel his torment and has finally decided to have enough pity on him to swallow him completely. 

Tau whines next to him, skitting around him with his tail tucked between his legs and his ears pulled back. The plumehound’s yellow eyes follow him, sadness shimmering in the golden tone that usually evokes such warmth in his chest. All he feels there now is nagging, piercing guilt.

The plumehound howls softly, nudging his leg.

“I know, Tau,” he snaps and regrets it immediately. He’s letting his frustration get the best of him. It’s always been a problem for him. He’s so slow to open up, stuck in the thick stone tower he built for himself after his momma’s passing, but somehow his anger always finds cracks in the walls to slip through. Better to hurt than to be hurt, he thinks bitterly and he knows that’s not what his momma would’ve told him.

“Sorry,” he sighs softly, placing his hand apologetically on Tau’s head. “You’re a good boy. You did a good deed making her smile. I ruined that.” Tau presses into his hand, the ends of the feathers on his neck digging into the skin of his bow-calloused palm. 

Dusk comes slowly, creeping in like a thief stealing sunlight and he releases a deep breath. It’s time to hurry. Darkness is never his friend, especially not in the forest. Not so close to where she is. 

He stops and turns to glance at the overgrown path leading down the hill into the thickest part of the woods. Fog rises as the sun retreats, covering the leaves with the shimmer sheen of mystery. It’s what drew him in first, this unknown aura beckoning him, begging him to come closer. To explore. Even now, he feels the sweetness of her call, the prickle on his skin where she touched him with cold fingertips. 

He shivers, fingernails digging into the spot where he feels her ghostly hand tug at him. His jaw trembles with tension. He should’ve burned this path but the danger of hurting the forest around it was too great. Instead, he watches it overflow with branches, the woods taking back the space he carved out for her. 

The hole in the forest heals, just like the one in his heart. Slowly, but steadily.

He swallows, the lump in his throat disintegrating, and takes another deep breath as he turns his back on the very thing that brought his demise. 

I’ll have to make sure to keep Lady Tish out of this part of the woods. 

He isn’t sure why he thinks about her. His wife-to-be. The lady of the house. She’s a lady, surely she doesn’t spend her time roaming the forests. Yet, she was here today, just a mere minutes ago. And in the clearing, next to the rushing rivers with her back resting against the damp rock, she seemed enchanted by her surroundings. Relieved. Relaxed. Almost as at home as him. She called it peaceful. He wouldn’t wonder if he found her there again. 

Maybe, he thinks, wanting to keep her away from that part of the woods is just a way to make amends for his rather ungentlemanly behaviour. Or maybe it is an entirely selfish thing to do and it’s just the shame of having stepped into the witch’s trap that makes him want to keep Lady Tish from finding out about it. 

There’s no use crying over spilled ale, his mother would say and while he doesn’t share her sentiment on expensive alcohol, he can appreciate the truth of things being out of his hands now. He can’t change his past and it has never brought him anything but the foul, bitter taste of bile in his mouth to dwell on it too much. 

The castle lights flicker up above, twinkling through the treetops. A threat and a blessing at the same time. When he returns to the castle, he will step into the bath and prepare to meet Lady Tish over dinner and they’ll be forced to disguise that they have already met. 

He doesn’t know how to forget about that look on her face, can’t escape that last broken noise she tried to hold in when she pushed past him. 

The hurt. 

The betrayal. 

The teary-eyed image of hope crumbling into dust. 

His heart clenches and he grits his teeth, balling his fists at his sides as he strides on. It’s her own fault for coming here with utterly naive beliefs. How childish, to think she’d find love on the other side of an arranged marriage. It only underlines his prejudice that Lady Tish has probably grown up sheltered and coddled, always made to believe that every fairytale had roots in reality. That every story has a happy ending. 

But he has lived the fairytale. He has met the fair maiden and she turned out to be a witch. He’d fallen for her spells and whispered siren calls. His love for romance novels had betrayed him, giving hope that he could be the exception, that the key to her heart lay in his hands. In the end, she’d wanted everything from him. 

His lands. 

His name.

His innocence. 

Everything but the heart he so willingly offered on a silver platter.

He will never give in to the call of a fairytale again. He will not allow himself to make the same mistake again. Even if it shimmers like liquid gold in the sunlight, especially not if it glows like Lady Tish does.

Hassian rolls his shoulders back, striding into the castle without speaking to anyone on the way. Between one corner and the next, Tau jumps and runs the other direction, probably to seek out the matriarch of the house. Hassian keeps his head down and his shoulders squared and heads straight to his quarters. The water is burning hot when he gets into the bath, almost too hot, but he grits his teeth and pushes through. Pain is good. Pain gives him something else to focus on. Anything except these memories of a bittersweet whisper clawing at his invisible armor, trying to creep in between the cracks.

He scrubs his skin til it’s dark and purple, trying to erase the prickling on his skin. He can still feel her grip on him.

---

His mother joins him in his room later that afternoon which is a rare occasion. They usually dine in relative silence in the dining hall, his mother drowning whatever sorrow she holds in her chest in ale while trying to convince the rest of the world she’s doing awesome. 

She isn’t. 

He knows she’s falling apart, so does she and yet neither of them calls the other out on their lies when he agrees and tells her he’s fine, too. Every night they play the same spiel: “I had an awesome day down in the village. How ‘bout you, son?” - “I’m fine. Thanks for asking, mother.”

She lingers in the doorway, an unreadable look on her face and stares at the space where his desk sits. Back when he was a boy, he used to have a chest of toys in the same spot, filled to the brim with wooden swords and costumes to play pretend. Hours were spent with his momma at his side, thinking of stories to present to his mother. Her eyes shimmer with memories as she continues to let the room speak to her. They are the same shade of green as his and that’s about the only thing he has inherited from her. 

He stands in the middle of the room, awkwardly doing up the buttons of his vest, while one of the servants plucks flecks of dust from the velvet sleeves. He doesn’t know what to say. They’ve never been good at communicating even when his momma was still around. And ever since she died- she didn’t die, Sifuu would insist, she is missing - they are even worse at finding common ground. Their ways of griefing are just too different for the other to understand. She throws herself into the world, drowning in its pleasures while he flees into the woods, seeking solace. In one way or the other, they have both managed to find ways to poison themselves. 

“Mother?” Hassian clears his throat and his mother blinks, taken aback. She’s quick to school her face, stepping fully into the room and straightening her posture. The door closes behind her with a soft ‘click’. 

For a while, she hovers, trapped between a closed door and his searching eyes. She takes him in like she hasn't really seen him in years. Maybe she hasn't. 

“Lady Tish has arrived this afternoon,” she finally says, her tone neutral, like she’s testing the waters. The topic has been a sore spot ever since Master Ashura’s letter arrived, mostly resulting in him turning on his heel - except for that one night where he agreed to bind his fate to the Keita family's heir.

He lets out a pained sigh. “I know.” 

Sifuu tilts her head in interest, eyeing him with a curious look. It's no secret he was out hunting all day, nor did it surprise anyone when he asked the house staff to relay the message to his mother.

“I saw the carriages when I came back from my hunt,” he goes on to explain. 

The servant pulls on his vest, straightening the dark green fabric. Hassian tenses under the attention, the hairs on his neck raising. Velvet and silk are a foreign sensation on his skin, one he doesn’t appreciate. It’s too delicate, too easily dirtied and ruined…too theatrical. He feels like he’s peacocking, playing a part for an audience he never wanted. 

The servant pulls again, stroking down the fabric so it shines in the flickering candlelight and it takes all of Hassian’s willpower to not flinch away from the touch. The older man’s eyes flickering back and forth between Hassian and his mother with an uncomfortable strain on his wrinkled face.

Sifuu clears her throat, gesturing towards the door. “Please leave us for a moment.” She's polite enough but her tone, regal and firm, leaves no room for questions. 

“As you wish, Your Grace.” The servant bows deeply, then turns to give a court nod to Hassian. 

Two sets of eyes follow the man as he makes his way outside, gathering the muddy hunting clothes left for washing on the dresser. The door, once again, falls closed with a soft ‘click’. Silence wraps around them like a blanket.

Looking at Sifuu feels vulnerable, all of a sudden, like he’s staring at an open, festering wound. The soft look on her face tugs at the strings holding him together, the ones he has spent months and months carefully weaving, drawing them tight around his heart. Memories he can’t bear to relive - not yet - shimmer in his mother’s eyes. It’s been years, yet he’s still raw with unprocessed grief. He can barely utter her name without his voice breaking into a thousand tiny shards of glass.

“Master Ashura told me there was a little hiccup when they arrived,” Sifuu says, her low, dark voice cutting through the silence.

Hassian wills his face into a neutral expression, a habit that has taken strong root ever since his momma’s passing. He’s always been reserved around strangers, now he’s a closed book even to himself, at times. “What kind of…hiccup?”

Sifuu takes a deep breath. “Appearently Lady Tish ran off into the woods.” She chuckles lightly. “Seems like you two have that in common.”

He scoffs heavily before he can keep himself in check, the outrage overwhelming him. “I do not run off into the woods.” Defensively he crosses his arms over his chest, immediately getting restrained by his own clothing pulling tight over his shoulders. The rub of the harsh seams holding the pieces of fabric together dig into his skin like tough ropes tying him down. Irritated, he lets out a low hiss and shakes out his arms. “I am a hunter, mother. It is what I do.”

There’s a heavy pause, pressing and silent. He can feel his mother’s green eyes narrowing in, like she’s searching for a crack in his armor to gain insight on him and he knows he has to be careful. As airheaded as people might perceive her, they always seem to forget that his mother was a master of hunting before she settled down to take on her responsibilities. Perception, as often as she might conveniently forget about it, is one of her strongest skills. She’s trained to take in the subtle changes, the drawing of breath in her opponent just before she strikes.

“You didn’t see her down there, did you?” 

Ah. There it is. The trap, carefully laid out to provoke his reaction. She knows him too well, knows how to trigger his emotions so his mask cracks. He clenches his teeth. It is its own kind of tragedy, that they went from playfully hunting sernuk together to playing hide and seek with their feelings. His own mother has resorted to using her hunting techniques to get him to talk to her. He knows it’s his fault. He closed off completely after his momma’s passing and shut her out in the process and now…he’s been in this self-made confinement for so long, he has lost the key for the lock on his cage.

“No.” He takes care to calm down the tremble in his voice. It’s the only thing he never learned how to master: the shaking of it when he’s sad, the wavering when he’s scared. The venom of it when he’s furious. “Why would you ask me that?” 

Sifuu shrugs but there’s an uncanny glint in her eyes. “She was very upset when she came back.”

A flare of anger leaves his lips, his fingernails digging forcefully into his palm. “And you think that was my doing? I barely-” 

Snap. 

The trap closes around him. 

He knew it was there and he still ran into it, wide-eyed. 

He stares at her like the muujin they once caught in a trapwire for a moment, then runs his hand over his face in defeat. She didn’t even have to outright accuse him of anything and he’s already raising his defenses. His treacherous mouth spilled the very thing he wanted to keep hidden before he even had a chance to feel out the situation. He silently curses his own miserable hold on his frustration, then blames his reaction on already being agitated. He didn’t let his guard slip easily, it was already half down from his meeting with Lady Tish.

It takes him a moment to collect himself, deep breath in, deep breath out. Sifuu looks at him, one of her eyebrows raised as if she didn’t think she’d actually get anything out of him. Her words repeat in his mind. Lady Tish was upset when she returned, that part isn’t new information to him. He saw her leave with tears swimming in her eyes, her teeth stubbornly digging into her lower lip to hold them back. The real mystery is how his mother knows. He squints at her and within a moment, the woven carpet underneath her feet seems a lot more interesting to her than the conversation they are having. 

“You saw her,” he concludes after piecing the puzzle together in his mind. 

Sifuu nods. “Sure did. That girl barrelled face first into me.” She shakes her head, her eyebrows drawn tight. “Poor thing couldn’t see anything with all those tears streaming down her face.” 

For all the perception she has when it comes to cornering people, his mother often lacks the emotional understanding to realize what it does to them. What it does to him. The dark shadow of guilt claws at his throat again, calling out his name with this familiar voice. Tish couldn't see his mountain of a mother because of the tears he, at least partly, caused.

“You are in luck, she is very pretty. Even when she’s crying.” 

She states the fact like it changes things. Like her beauty will somehow make the whole situation better. It makes it worse, if anything. Her soft and radiant glow pulls him in like a honey lure and he despises the part of himself that wants to fall willingly into her trap. 

“Yeah…she is,” he mutters under his breath. 

Sifuu’s ears perk up, her eyes holding that strange glint again. Like she knows a secret he doesn’t. “What was that?”

He immediately bites his tongue. 

He didn’t mean to say those words, not out loud at least. 

“Nothing,” he pressed out from between clenched teeth. He feels like a little boy again, hiding the remnants of a vase he broke practicing his archery. The collar of his shirt sits tightly around his neck like a noose. He opens the first button with an irritated huff, hoping it will give him more room to fill his lungs with air. Everything about this situation feels like he’s being chained down, restrained by fabric and responsibility. The closed doors, the tight velvet, the bride waiting only rooms away…

His mother shifts from one foot to the other, softly swaying as she clears her throat. “I just thought…when she bumped into me, I couldn’t help but think-” She looks up at him then, brows furrowed as she takes him in again. He squirms uncomfortably, like a bug under a magnifying glass. “I know this is all a little strange.”

He snorts. “That is an understatement.” 

“Okay, it is very strange,” Sifuu sighs. Still carrying that strange, caring look on her face, she steps closer towards him. Almost close enough to touch him, if she reached out her large hand. “I realized I never checked in on you…on how you’re holding up.”

Almost instinctively, he turns from her, fleeing her gaze. He mutters the same words he always does, just another well rehearsed line in his book of things he says to get out of really saying anything at all. 

“I’m fine, mother.” 

Sifuu shrugs, awkwardly. “Eh, you say that…but are you really?”  

She doesn’t move closer, stays at the strange distance they now have between them. He still refuses to face her, afraid that if he does his mask will fall completely. He can’t afford to break now, there are still too many hurdles he has to climb tonight. A whole dinner with Lady Tish and her entourage to get through. He clenches his teeth, focusing on the sting of his wrist where his nails pierce his dark blue skin.

“I will get used to it,” he presses out, squaring his jaw. He stares off into the far corner of his bedroom, his gaze stoned and cold. His cheeks burn where he presses his lips into a tight line. The pattern on the wall dances before his eyes as his vision starts swimming. 

With slow steps, Sifuu moves to stand beside him, her voice low and laced heavy with guilt. “I really wish you wouldn’t have to.”

Hassian hangs his head, letting out a deep breath. “So do I.” 

Blindly he leans his shoulder into his mother’s chest, soft enough it could be counted as accidentally. He clears his throat, looking up at her with a smile that looks as forced as it feels. There’s no use in lying, they both know the situation is dire but there’s familiar a line in the back of his head…

 “No use crying over spilled ale.” 

Sifuu lets out a dark chuckle, her chest rumbling where he leans against her. Her hand lands heavy on his shoulder, squeezing him just a little too hard. 

“You’ve grown into a good man, Hassian.” She looks down at him and for the first time in a long time he sees sincerity in her eyes. Hope. Pride. “I’m sure, she’ll learn to like you.”

He swallows, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. His eyes find his own reflection in the mirror before him. The hard lines of his face, the tired green of his eyes and a glimmer of her blue ones shining with tears forces itself into his thoughts. 

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”