Chapter Text
So she said, what′s the problem, baby?
What's the problem? I don′t know
Well, maybe I'm in love (love)
Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows
Soft summer sun cascades along the countryside, the gentle breeze ruffling the leaves of strong oak trees scattered along the winding castle road. Along the edge of the normally packed dirt, a rainbow of wildflowers blooms: yellows, pinks, purples, and blues, like stained glass speckled across a blanket of vibrant green. The previous night had seen a mild storm, but by early afternoon, the muddy road had dried to a soft mush beneath quiet llama hooves.
Light flickers between lush branches, prying mossy green eyes open to watch the gentle sway of the trees. The soft slosh of uneven cart wheels sends another wave of nausea through the cart’s only occupant, the third promise to the Turali throne, Wuk Lamat. She doubles over the side of her cart, expelling what was left of her early morning breakfast in a desperate gasp.
“ Uhnng… ”
Beside her, on their own additional llamas, ride her brothers, the second promise, Koana, and the first promise, Zoraal Ja, who steer their mounts around her most recent expulsion.
“Must we always bring these awful things?” She moans, a pale green sheen to her fur-covered face
“Lamaty’i,” Koana begins, offering her an apologetic smile, “It seems we are not far from Alexandria. Would you rather walk the remainder of the way?”
One, two, three rotations of the mismatched wheels is all it takes before Wuk Lamat rises, leaping from the cart to the muddy road with a wild roar. Long limbs stretch high above her head as her joints pop at the gentle exertion.
They’d been on the road for four days, and despite the beautiful scenery, Wuk Lamat had found it hard to focus past the constant squeak and slosh of the dying cart, never mind the beasts that pulled it.
“It feels good to walk on my own two feet again,” she sighs, dropping down to a crouch before bouncing back up, a wild grin against sharp fangs.
“You could have simply ridden your own llama instead of insisting on the cart to bring us all this way.” Zoraal Ja scoffs, his narrowed eyes never leaving the rising spires of the approaching kingdom.
“You know Lamaty’i gets sick anytime a llama is involved, brother.” Chides Koana, ever the pragmatic. “Without the cart, it would have only taken longer for us to arrive.”
“And we would have missed the tournament!” Wuk Lamat cheers, bouncing on the balls of her feet joyfully. “Can't have that!”
Zoraal Ja rolls his eyes, spurring his mount with a flick of both wrists to outpace his siblings. “We should be so lucky .”
With a chuckle, Wuk Lamat sprints forward, her long stride able to close the gap and keep pace with her eldest brother as she watches the ornate castle rise into view.
The Alexandrian palace is stunning, Wuk Lamat thinks, looking at the rising spires capped in melted bronze and gold. It looks like something out of one of the fairytales Tankwa would tell her as a child, white stone with glittering gems embossed. She imagines Queen Sphene, the subject of some of her favorite stories, sitting upon a white gold throne, her smile kind as she attends to her people. Dusty blonde hair that bounces with each quiet smize, and gentle green eyes, Wuk Lamat’s heart skips a beat.
“Lamaty’i, don't get lost, we have a job to do.” Koana reminds, hopping off his own mount, a black, white, and brown llama with a bored stare.
As they pass through the entrance gate, Wuk Lamat slows to a stop, her eyes wide as she takes in the vivid colors. The town surrounding the bastion glitters just like the castle, bordered in strong stone towers and rod iron fencing with roads paved in cobblestone and bursting at the seams with people. She is surprised to see several recognizable races, Hhetsarro, Shetona, Tonawawta, and even a few Hanuhanu among the crowd, and it feels like home, she thinks, filled with excitement. She wants to see all the shops, sample all the foods, and meet all the people!!
“Lamaty’i,” calls Koana again, his tone more firm as he crosses his arms.
“I'm coming, I'm coming.” It's hard to take her eyes off everything, brilliant smiles, and delicious smells. She takes a step towards her brothers, eyes focused on everything but her companions. “Don't you want to look around?” She tries, sure of Koana’s imminent denial. “We don't have to meet the queen right away, do we?” Truth be told, she was very nervous for that meeting. With the number of books she’d read about the Alexandrian Queen, she wasn't sure she wouldn't make a fool of herself.
“It would be best to conclude our business before letting you run wild, I'm afraid.” Koana was always a doting brother, and so his tone was soft as he placed his hand on his sister’s arm. “But if you want to look around as we make our way there, you can.”
“ Woo!! ” Wuk Lamat cheers, one fist triumphantly thrust into the air.
“But we aren't stopping!” He adds on, watching his younger sister bound from storefront to storefront.
“I will find a stable and lodgings.” Zoraal Ja says evenly, his hand opened to accept the reins to Koana’s llama. Behind him, his deep black llama chuffs, kicking Wuk Lamat’s cart with annoyance, the duo of white and grey llamas pulling it spit in retort. The first promise rolls his eyes, his blue scales rippling as he stomps away.
“He's no fun.” Wuk Lamat adds, her good mood souring at the display.
“You should give him some space, Lamaty’i. You know he’s still sore about the contest.”
For the first time since entering the city proper, Wuk Lamat lets her gaze follow her brother’s retreating form, his broad shoulders and stocky gait filled with frustration and irritation.
“Papa only wants what's best for the kingdom.” She recites, in a hushed tone, rhetorical, more an affirmation for herself than anything else.
Her excitement quelled for a moment, she let herself sink into the crowd alongside her brother, eyes flitting from clothing racks to bright, colorful flags, then to the delicious-smelling food. Her stomach rumbles, a reminder of her forfeited breakfast still stale on her tongue.
“Koana, can we get some of that?” She points to a strong-smelling stand surrounded by people, a raucous hum of energy that flows like a tide. Scrawled across a hanging sign is a haphazard painting of the meat offered and the words: Turkey Legs .
“Lamaty’i-”
“Just one for me then,” she presses, stepping towards the crowd gingerly.
“I don't think-”
“I'll be quick.”
Koana doesn't have a chance to protest further, sighing as he watches his sister’s taller form wade through the waves of fairgoers.
The smell only gets better the closer she steps, and Wuk Lamat fishes out a few gold coins to thrust them into the face of a Tonawawta man positioned behind the counter, covered in soot and grease. He eyes the foreign currency and pushes it back towards the third promise with a shake of his head.
“Sorry, miss, we only take Alexandrian coins ‘ere.”
He sounds genuinely apologetic, to his credit, but it doesn't soothe the grumbling ache in Wuk Lamat’s stomach. She presses a hand to quiet another grumble and prepares to leave before a small hand rests upon her wrist.
“I’ll cover it, Gabbro.” Comes a light, airy voice, enriched with the same accent as the mused shopkeep, but more regal.
Mossy green eyes trace the pale hand resting on her wrist up to a billowing white sleeve and the smiling face of a woman who could only be Queen Sphene of Alexandria. Standing right there. Touching Wuk Lamat.
The foreign royal blanches, her mouth falling open as the queen hands the man two sparkling silver coins. He accepts and passes her two of the glistening turkey legs, the larger of which she hands to Wuk Lamat, before taking the taller woman by the hand and leading her out of the crowd to an unoccupied stretch of cobblestone.
“I’ve never seen that currency before,” Queen Sphene offers, releasing Wuk Lamat’s hand and tugging a tuft of turkey from the bone with two dainty fingers. She savors the meat with a delighted hum and smiles up towards her newest companion.
Belatedly, Wuk Lamat snaps her jaw closed, eyes searching for Koana as her thoughts race. “You’re Queen Sphene,” she balks, the turkey leg forgotten in her hand.
“That I am.” She takes another string of turkey from the leg and lets her gaze slide across Wuk Lamat curiously. “But I can’t say I know you.” It's not accusatory, resting more so in the curious range. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
Wuk Lamat’s brain short-circuits at her choice of words, thoughts lost in a snowstorm of awe and wonder. “I-uh-”
“Third Promise of Tuliyollal, Wuk Lamat.” Koana steps around Wuk Lamat swiftly, his shoulders back, radiating confidence. “Soon to be the Vow of Resolve, and I am the Second Promise, Koana.”
“The Vow of Reason,” Wuk Lamat says resolutely, remembering the common tongue in the wake of her brother’s arrival. “Or soon to be.”
Koana smiles as he offers his hand to Sphene. She quickly takes the offered hand, her own smile brightening as the information settles between them
“Wonderful,” her shoulders straighten as she eases into a more formal tone, “I received your letter just a day ago, Vow Koana.” Her gaze shifts back to Wuk Lamat, lingering for a moment longer than might have been necessary. “I have to announce the next joust at midday, so perhaps we can hold our business till dinner tonight? Oh, and I’ll have some rooms prepared for you two in the castle as well.”
“Our brother, too,” Wuk Lamat adds, finally biting into the gifted turkey leg. “He came along with us.” She should probably avoid talking with her mouth full, but the savory meat nearly melts on her tongue, rich with flavor.
Sphene nods, her smile no brighter than it has been thus far. “Excellent, I’ll get the arrangements started.” She claps once, awkwardly around the turkey leg, before continuing. “For now, would you two like to accompany me for the day? It's fine to get lost in the joy of the crowd, but I’d be remiss were I not to give you a proper tour.”
“I should locate our brother,” Koana confesses with a resigned smile, “But Lamaty’i has been alight with excitement for the tournament since she heard of it.” He pats his sister’s shoulder as he continues. “Have a good time, we’ll find you when the joust concludes.”
Wuk Lamat whirls on her brother, jaw dropping again as he leaves with a wave, now alone with the woman whose stories she used to drift off to sleep to.
“Your brother seems to be quite a character.” Queen Sphene offers, stepping back into Wuk Lamat’s line of sight. “Do not feel obligated to join me, Wuk Lamat, but would I have the opportunity to escort you, there would be more snacks.”
It's a foul choice she’d have to make; food at the price of utterly embarrassing herself. (Glimmering green eyes twinkle up at her, brilliant flecks of gold highlight Sphene’s pupils as they dilate with patient curiosity.)
“Who am I to refuse such an offer?” She almost gasps, winded and nervous as Sphene takes her hand again. It's going to be a long day.
Three stalls in and Wuk Lamat hasn't regretted her choice. Queen Sphene has handed her some sort of breaded sausage impaled on a stick, a mess of orange potatoes cut into long spirals, and a haystack of fried dough powdered in sugar.
“It all tastes so good.” She swoons, self-consciousness left behind at the turkey leg stand.
With each treat, Sphene beams up at her, verdant eyes shimmering with joyful energy. “I’m so happy you approve.”
There's something so relaxing in the queen's tone, like she would love nothing more than to show the world the light that blooms from her kingdom. It makes Wuk Lamat’s heart beat a little faster, a little harder.
“Everyone looks so happy!” It's true. She’s sure she hadn't seen a single frown on a single face since her arrival, and it did wonders for her mood. When there were so many happy faces surrounding you, you could scarcely frown yourself. “Is this all because of the tournament?” She's finished off the breaded meat and is halfway done with her spiraled potatoes as the two women round the stables.
“Mostly,” Sphene smiles at a young woman behind a storefront, her haggard face lighting with the attention of her queen. “We have so many who travel here for it; it boosts the economy by large margins, but I think we get by fine enough in the time between.”
A young child brandishes a sword a few feet away from the queen, his excited face shifting to something serious as he turns to march at the queen’s side vigilantly. Sphene hides a gentle laugh behind an open hand as she kneels before him, “My loyal knight.” She pats his head as he squeals, running back to his mother with a wide smile.
Wuk Lamat watches, the scene settling atop her shoulders comfortably like a well-worn blanket. Queen Sphene is exactly what she’d expected, right down to the slightly lopsided way she smiles. She is beautiful in a way that leaves the taller woman breathless and grasping for a new, more intense way to describe her. When she would slow their pace and gesture towards something new to point out, she’d trail those pale fingers down strong arms, wrap them around Wuk Lamat’s wrist, and the Xbr'aal woman would have to hold her breath before looking. Whatever spell Sphene had cast on her is overwhelming, and Wuk Lamat is struggling to stay afloat amongst the swell of near-natural affection afflicting her.
“This is our last stop before the joust,” Sphene announces, her heels clicking together as she gestures towards the last shop before the entrance to the arena. “This is my favorite stand, but don’t tell anyone.” She finishes with a wink, a subtle motion that sends a flurry of butterflies through Wuk Lamat’s chest.
The storefront doesn't look much different from the other shops in the area, the same dark wood, hanging sign, and smiling faces. Wuk Lamat glances at Queen Sphene again and takes a step forward. There’s a menu sign nailed to the back wall of the shop: bright colors spell out several items available for purchase, but she’s unsure of what she’s looking at. Brow furrowing in confusion, she taps a clawed finger to her chin.
“Opal?” Sphene’s voice tilts up, a soft indication of her excitement as the dark skinned woman behind the counter turns to smile.
“Your Highness,” Opal, a taller woman with dark hair pulled into a tight braid down her back, drapes herself across the counter and wraps Sphene’s hands in her own, her shoulders hunching as she squeezes herself into the space between the two royals, giddy. “You’ve come at a good time.”
Sphene smiles in return, glowing with gentle exhilaration; she almost bounces in joy. “Tell me they’re fresh.” She sighs, creeping ever closer to the shopkeep.
“Better,” Opal coos, her accent fluttering off the word like birds in the wind. “We got a new shipment of blueberries, so I made your favorite.”
Sphene almost moans, kicking a leg out behind her with glee. Something inside Wuk Lamat gnarls, tightening around too many vital organs. It's an odd feeling, not at all comfortable, so she shifts her weight from one leg to the other.
The Alexandrians seem to notice, and Sphene offers an apologetic smile as she releases Opal’s hands. “Opal is a dear friend.” She offers, watching the woman as she begins gathering two freshly baked pastries. “I come here so often she feels the need to stock my favorites.”
She sounds embarrassed about it, but Wuk Lamat finds it so charming it sends a chuckle from her lips
“One for you and your friend,” Opal offers, sliding the pastries wrapped delicately in a piece of light purple fabric. “On the house.”
A frown carves its way across Sphene’s lips, a delicate pout that betrays the woman’s age. “I told you I can-”
“Accept this gift,” Opal finishes, smiling slyly as she pushes Sphene’s offered hand back. “Because you are my good friend.”
This placates the queen, her pout morphing into an amused smile as she accepts the treats with a shake of her head.
“Blueberry for you, of course, and cherry for your friend.” This time, Opal winks, but it doesn't twist Wuk Lamat’s insides quite the same.
“I'll see you soon, Opal,” Sphene offers her friend, squeezing the woman’s hand before drifting back to Wuk Lamat’s. She tugs once again at the other royal’s hand, leading her towards the arena with a coy smile. “We should get to the arena before the crowds get too dense.”
Wuk Lamat allows herself to be led without hindrance, her thoughts fluttering between what was happening in her chest and the sights before her. She focuses on the towering walls and the way the stands are slowly filling with people, all looking towards the queen, leading her towards a sitting area flanked by two knights.
“Otis, Zelenia,” Sphene begins, nodding towards her knights. “This is my guest, The Vow of Resolve, Wuk Lamat.” Belatedly, she drops the vow’s hand and gestures to the two seats in the section. “I have to make the announcements, but that will only take a moment.” She smiles again, offering Wuk Lamat the seat to her right. “You may stay here till then.” With a final fleeting glance, she walks through the seating gate and stands upon the small stage at the edge of the jousting lanes.
The two knights follow their queen up to the stage, bastions of protection that follow like shadows. Wuk Lamat is left alone as the stands continue to fill, the low drum of conversation becoming a white noise to the vow's muddled thoughts. She finds herself staring at the delicately wrapped treat sitting perfectly in her lap, the care given to the way the corners wrap into a neat little knot.
Opal seemed nice, so why did the interaction make her feel so… off? Mindlessly, she releases the knot, revealing the puffed triangle of dough sprinkled with large granules of sugar. The edges ooze with warm red syrup where the pastry has been folded, creating a cute pocket of fruit filling. She takes a bite, returning to the memory of Sphene’s hands in Opal's. It's not as if Sphene had been shy about physical touch. All day she’d trailed her hands down Wuk Lamat’s arms, held her hand, and even adjusted the way her leathers had shifted as they walked. Was there a hope that she was the only one Sphene was so physical with? They’d only just met…
When Queen Sphene finally takes her seat to her left, Wuk Lamat nearly startles, lost in the weight of the day. She smiles at the queen, and is treated to another brilliant smile in return.
“Did you like it?” Sphene asks, pointing to the remaining crumbs of the pastry in Wuk Lamat’s lap.
The taller woman pauses. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she’d hardly thought about the taste, but decides that it must have been good, and nods. “I’ll have to try a blueberry one next time.”
Another blinding smile ignites across Sphene’s face as she offers her own pastry to her friend. “I don't mind sharing.”
They split the pastry, and Wuk Lamat insists Sphene takes the larger half before biting into the other. Now that she’s focusing on it, the treat is very delicious. The blueberries add a pleasant tartness to contrast the sweetness of the dough, and the sugar on top rounds it out nicely.
“I think yours may have had more love baked into it.” Wuk Lamat chuckles, offering Sphene a cautious glance.
“Mayhaps,” Sphene coos, finishing off the treat with a happy hum.
“Are you familiar with jousting?” Sphene asks, her hand settling back on Wuk Lamat’s arm.
(It’s warm , a soft weight that settles in the pit of the taller woman’s stomach.)
“I’ve read stories,” Wuk Lamat confesses, hands flexing into fists awkwardly. “I read a lot of stories about you, actually.” It's been a figurative elephant in the room the entire day, something at the tip of her tongue begging for release.
The admission does less for the regal queen, though. Her shoulders slump, and her usually vibrant smile seems to dim in the light of it. “I was worried about that, actually.” She shifts, pulling her hands into her lap and wringing them together. “I often get visitors boasting about The Eternal Queen Sphene from the stories; it pains me to confess they are not stories about me .”
This deflates Wuk Lamat, her hopeful expression falling like broken glass. “They’re not?”
“Alas, no.” Sphene begins, her face falling past neutral. “She was a legendary queen, and my inspiration besides, but I am not she. Would that I were…” She coils into herself, her knees tucking against her chest as her gaze shifts back to the jousting lanes.
Otis is a contender for this round, his solid silver armor glittering in the sun as he waves to the cheering fans. He mounts his horse and places his helmet over his head, urging his horse into a playful trot to rally the crowds.
“Sorry, I cannot be the queen you expected-”
“You’re great!” The words spill out like a waterfall as Wuk Lamat nearly falls out of her chair, panic solidifying like ice in her veins. She hadn't meant for things to become so dour, but she can see the pain etched across pink cheeks and regrets ever bringing up those damned stories. “I did think you were her- I mean,” she fumbles, her leg bouncing nervously.
Sphene shifts her gaze back to Wuk Lamat, resting her head on her arms folded around her knees. The way she looks like the next thing the Vow says might break her to pieces pulls at Wuk Lamat’s heart painfully.
She deflates with a sigh, her nervous hands tapping out a beat on bouncing knees. “What I mean to say is,” her heart drops, a void opening in her belly as she swallows. “I think you’re pretty great, so far.” It comes out as an awkward croak as she scratches roughly at her neck, her chest a bundle of brambles that coil and prick.
As she glances back towards Sphene, she’s gifted with a hopeful smile, a fragile little thing that feels like a baby bird barely hatching from an egg. Heat blooms in her chest, a rosebud on a warm spring morning, and the air around them settles.
“Thank you, Wuk Lamat.” Sphene’s voice is soft and earnest as she lets herself recede to a more neutral position. “And you are far more interesting than I would have guessed at our meeting.” Her smile is still bright as she speaks, her hands no longer tensed in her lap, but returning to toy lightly with the leather bracers at Wuk Lamat’s wrist. “Your brother wrote of you, but I confess I’ve never met anyone of your… stature…” She rolls the word around her mouth clumsily, unsure of how to continue
“I've noticed there are hardly any Xbr'aal here.” Wuk Lamat starts, connecting the statement with her earlier observations. “There are tons of us in Tural. Perhaps you can visit sometime.”
The offer is rewarded with another smile, no longer fragile, but brilliant in its intensity.
“I think I'd like that.” Sphene titters, sliding into the arm of her chair closest to Wuk Lamat. “Xbr’aal, you said?”
She rolls the ‘R’ near perfectly, and it makes Wuk Lamat’s tail twitch to hear it. She nods, excitement sparking like metal on stone. “Yes. Most live in Yak T’el, but many travel to our capital to live or trade.”
Falling into conversation is easy, almost natural, as Sphene asks occasional questions. They exchange information like artisans trading goods; Wuk Lamat is eighteen, Sphene is nineteen. Wuk Lamat never met her real parents, happy to have been raised by her loving father, while Sphene lost her parents at a young age, forced to grow up quickly and assume rule. The world around them fades into the background, no longer a focus, while the women have their eyes set on each other.
The joust meanders by, winners are chosen, and awards are given, but Wuk Lamat stays wrapped in her conversation with Sphene Alexandros; not just the Queen of Alexandria, but a bright and honest person whose playful, lopsided smile blossoms fields of wildflowers within the vow’s chest. Striking and exhilarating. In the days to come, Wuk Lamat will build a model of Alexandria in her mind, spired towers, and rod iron gates, with Sphene solidly at the center. And for Sphene, Wuk Lamat’s tales of Tural will entice in her a drive for adventure, to travel past her protective walls towards sun-drenched beaches and salt-adled sand. Time will pass, and connections will be made. Tonight they will talk politics, but for now, in this moment, there is only Wuk Lamat and Sphene, in a world of their own making.