Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rising sun over the mesa reminded her of blood. It was nothing more than a war drunk god hanging low on the horizon, leering over scorched and blighted lands in victory while the citizens below scrambled to find cover, like lizards in the heat of a cloudless afternoon. The few trees that managed to grow here were twisted and hardened from their years digging deeper into sun baked earth in search of nourishment. In another world, this swath of lawless land would have been a part of the Sundom.

Further down the sloping paths which had been pounded flat by travelers and bleached bone white by the sun above, she caught the spark and glimmer of a herd of chargers. For one small moment, Nasadi, formerly of the Oltu, imagined she had come home. In the place of the scraggly brush and wizened trees and scorched earth, a field of waist high green grass met her sight. Rich, dark soil was cool beneath her feet, and she imagined the herd of machines was, if only for a moment, the great furred beasts on the plains of her childhood.

Nasadi blinked and she was back in the covered wagon, the coverings in the white and gold of the royal house doing nothing to keep out the glare of the sun. She squinted, lifting a hand to shade her eyes against the glare of the land. Beside her, Itamen squirmed, impatient.

“Nearly there, dear heart.” She kept her voice low, pleasant, a leftover habit of another lifetime. Itamen scowled, the jangling doll in his chubby hands at last still and silent. Nasadi slipped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his sun warmed hair. It was only a matter of time before she’d be hugging him farewell, kissing away the soft baby fat of his youth as he stepped into his own. It wouldn’t be long before his father’s crown rested heavy on his smooth brow. The thought ached deep in her bones, made her grip her son tighter as if her will alone would be enough to keep him safe.

“Dowager Queen Nasadi.” The head of her security, a scarred face man known only to her as Palo, approached the side of the covered vehicle at a jog and bowed to her. “We are nearing the Utaru borderlands. Plainsong is not far, and then we will enter the Tenakth lands.”

Plainsong. The lilt of the name was like a cool breeze on her cheeks after so long on the road. Nasadi wanted nothing more than to direct them into the lush oasis of the Utaru lands, to rest her aching body on silk pillows and drink wine until the stars kissed her to sleep and she dreamed of Itamen’s laughter and honey slick kisses of a simpler time.
But Avad was waiting, and beyond him, the Tenakth.

“Palo.” Nasadi released her hold on Itaman, mutely acknowledging when he scampered to the front of the wagon to be closer to Vanasha seated beside the driver.

In one swift move, Palo grasped the rungs of metal on the side of the wagon, stepping onto the narrow ledge folded up to not catch on the rocks of the road as they traveled. “My Lady.”

She recognized the way he looked at her, the softening of his pale blue eyes and the way he often made himself smaller in her presence. Physically, it was impossible. Palo was as broad as he was tall. Nasadi remembered as a girl she was half terrified and half in awe of the hulking man, long before she had ever seen how gentle and kind he was. But the look in his eyes, even after everything, did little to ease the strain on her soul.

“Tell me truthfully. You traveled with Sun King Avad into Tenakth lands.” Nasadi tightened her fingers into the folds of her gown, the black a lighter shade than it had been before. Her time of mourning was coming to an end, and though there were few Carja here to witness the abrupt close, she still felt the itch of discomfort. As if she was truly dishonoring a way of life not her own. “Tell me how they seem to you.”

Palo hesitated, the deeply gouged scar on his cheek twitching as he struggled for the right words to say. “They are a fierce and prideful people, my queen. I have seen the strength of their arms in battle, and the unfettered way they give all of themselves to a cause. Even one as mundane as making weapons, or drinking.”

Nasadi forced herself to swallow, her heart seeming to sit heavy in her throat. She tasted sand and sweat, and imagined it was blood and grit from a battlefield. The entire west was drenched in the sins of the people around her, and yet they were permitted to travel almost freely through the territory. Avad had sent strict instructions back to Meridian, carried safely in Palo’s possession alongside a sealed letter meant for Nasadi’s eyes only. This letter, the gold swirls of the blazing sun seal broken in half, now rested like an anchor among her possessions stacked neatly in the wagon around her.

“And their chief?” Her voice thinned and tightened, and Palo’s shoulders stiffened at her tone. She could not ever know truthfully what had been discussed in the weeks since Avad had departed for the Tenakth capital known as the Grove, though it seemed Palo had discerned as much as she had. When he had presented the scroll, smudges of wax melted in strings along the vellum parchment, Nasadi had known.

She cleared her throat, fixing her gaze on a white blossomed tree on the side of the road. Growing at an angle from a rock formation, it seemed more that the tree was the victor, not just clinging to life amidst the brutality of this desert, but blooming in spite of it.

“Tell me about Chief Hekarro.”

“Peace with the Tenakth can never hope to last without an alliance.” Marad’s voice, silk smooth as it was, never failed to send a shiver down her spine. Nasadi had more reason than most to distrust the man- how many times had she sat silently while watching him act as her husband’s bloody right hand? As much as it was true, she owed the spymaster her life more than once. Her status as the dowager queen, thin as it was, was the only thing keeping him from collecting on those debts.

From her position behind the lattice screen, Nasadi watched Avad’s shoulders tense and stiffen, the younger man leaning forward to ease the tightness in his back. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, more worry lines appearing each day.

“An alliance with the Tenakth is going to need more than words, Marad.” He was usually so patient, but his tone suggested that the well was drying up quickly. “Chief Hekarro isn’t taking this lightly, so neither will I. Without Fashav…”

The loss of the nobleman had been a difficult blow. Nasadi had watched ghosts fill Avad’s gaze in the weeks that followed the news. Resignation creeped in afterward with the arrival of Fashav’s body, and within the month when his cousin was ready to be laid to rest, Nasadi had watched something irreplaceable in Avad’s gaze wither and die.

“Perhaps a marriage?” Marad’s tone was casual, but Nasadi knew the gleam in his eye as he spoke. There was nothing casual or accidental about the suggestion, and from the way Avad jerked his head up to look at the spymaster, he knew it as well.

“I am only suggesting, your majesty.” Marad bowed slightly, his expression and smile apologetic. His next words were drowned out by a rush in her ears, the rustle of silks as Nasadi jerked to her feet. Her handmaids scrambled to follow her, the lattice pushed aside with the jangling of her bracelets on both wrists.

“I will marry Chief Hekarro.” The words left her breathless, and she was aware of both Avad and Marad’s incredulous protests. The rushing in her ears turned to a thunderous roar, and Nasadi felt the room tilt on its axis until the sun warmed stones of the throne room embraced her, and she slipped under the surface of the dark.

The decision was made to stop in Plainsong regardless of Nasadi’s desire to push on straight to the Grove. In the end, Itamen was the tipping point, his impatience and weariness from the journey brought to Nasadi’s attention by Vanasha.

“It would be wise, my lady,” the woman said, her gaze fixed on Itamen as he ran circles in a grassy area nearby. “A hot meal and a bed to rest in would do us all some good. The Grove isn’t going anywhere, and neither is the Tenakth or their leader.”

The mention of the Tenakth chief did nothing for her nerves, but Nasadi managed to smile and say something that satisfied the other woman. Vanasha placed a hand on her shoulder, her smile more than knowing and apologetic, and turned away to tend to Itamen.

It wasn’t the first time Nasadi had been beyond the confines of Carja lands, but there was nothing familiar about this territory. The Utaru, especially, were a private people, though peaceful despite all they had endured. Nasadi had never truly counted herself among the Carja, but even she couldn’t deny her involvement in all the bloodshed and heartache. She could still hear the lingering echoes of a faraway, mineral rich voice reminding her again, “Even inaction is still action. We all make choices, my little sprout.”

“I don’t think they like us,” she whispered to the shadow at her left and a step behind. Vanasha smiled gently in the corner of Nasadi’s vision, the brilliance of Plainsong taking up the entirety of her sight. The discs left by the Old Ones towered elegantly overhead, draped in flowering vines and made habitable by the platforms of woven rush and reeds, the Utaru’s way of life in every fiber

The tension in Nasadi’s heart eased when she saw the trio of familiar figures waiting at the base of the Plainsong, the shock of red hair the first visible. Aloy stepped forward with a grin, stepping out of reach of her partner’s touch on her hip. Her smile was wide, despite the exhaustion creeping into the corners of her eyes.

“The Savior of Meridian, and the High Marshal to greet us?” Nasadi pulled Aloy into an embrace, kissing the younger woman on both cheeks. “I’m honored you’d be here.”

“It is our honor.” Nasadi hadn’t met the Tenakth warrior standing to Aloy’s right and a step behind, but the redhead Nora had always spoken highly of Kotallo. Given how close they had been standing, it was clear the bond they shared went far beyond professional respect. Kotallo smiled, as if somehow sensing her thoughts, and inclined his head with hand fisted to his chest. “It is not every day our chief takes a bride, especially a woman as revered as you, Queen Nasadi.”

“I’m flattered, High Marshal Kotallo.” Nasadi winked, arm linked with Aloy’s as they turned to enter the green paradise.

“Sun King Avad is waiting at The Grove for you; he and Chief Hekarro had much to discuss,” Kotallo continued, drawing her from her thoughts back to the sun-dappled interior of the Utaru village. Voices echoed in song, bending around the curves of the overlapping structures built around the discs. “I regret to say when you arrive, Chief Hekarro will not be at The Grove to greet you.”

Nasadi turned, a patch of shade casting her in shadow compared to the sunspot Kotallo and Aloy paused in. The glance between them was knowing; a conversation occurring between them in the span of a second. “What’s happened? Why will he not be there to greet me?”

“Pockets of rebel activity are still a problem in some areas of the clan lands,” Kotallo explained, gesturing to a group of gathered Utaru. “Chief Hekarro has been traveling with his new Marshals to deal with the rebels, and to build trust with them. If he wasn’t pulled away by duty, I have no doubt he would be here to greet you without ceremony.”

“Sun King Avad has been speaking very highly of you to Chief Hekarro.” Aloy nudged Kotallo, nodding to Nasadi with a cheekier grin than the former queen was used to seeing on the solemn young woman. “I think the expression on his face could be described as…smitten.”

“Smitten…” The word was heady on her tongue, light and leaving a buzzed feeling at the back of her throat. How long had it been since a man had thought of her in a way outside of possessiveness or control? The thrill that zipped down her spine was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.

“Kotallo and I will be escorting you and your retinue to The Grove,” Aloy continued, gesturing toward the gathered Utaru. “It would be our honor, and our pleasure.” Her voice dropped to something softer with the last half of spoken word, expression morphing into something born of trust and bond.

Nasadi shivered, resisting the urge to rub her arms. The few times she had met with the anointed Savior of Meridian, Aloy had proven to be a legend far greater than the Carja’s paltry titles could ever encompass. Some nights Nasadi still woke in a sweat, the feeling of sharp stones biting into her feet as the ground thundered with each impact of the demon machines the Shadows had sent to take her and Itamen back. She had ignored Vanasha’s increasing panic for her to come to the boat; Nasadi stood transfixed on that beach, watching the Nora warrior bring the demon smoldering to the ground, dead.

“Thank you, Aloy.” Nasadi dropped her voice in turn, nodding to the younger woman. “As always, you do me a great service. I’m in your debt.” She smiled as Aloy started to protest, gaze flicking across the armor pieces covering the redhead’s middle and noting the loosened ties and buckles to accommodate a slight swell of her belly. “So, how far along are you?” Nasadi whispered, linking her arm with Aloy’s.

Aloy’s cheeks reddened and she ducked her head, her laugh high and nervous. “I’d ask how you know, but… A few months,” Aloy cleared her throat. “A bit of a surprise. With the Far Zeniths and NEMESIS, I didn’t really have time to keep track.”

Her hand came to rest on the machine plating covering her stomach, gaze softening. Kotallo stepped behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder with thumb brushing the back of her neck. Nasadi felt her heart twist as Aloy leaned into the High Marshal’s touch, and turned her gaze away. The last thing the couple needed was a spectator to their private moments.

Nasadi’s gaze drifted to where Vanasha trailed behind, Itamen dozing against her shoulder. His mouth was slacked open, a line of drool on Vanasha’s shoulder. The older woman smiled gently, her hand resting on Itamen’s back. He’s growing so fast. Time was stretching between them, a gulf she wasn’t sure she would one day be able to cross. Whatever would happen- she knew the fates in store for them.

“By your leave, my queen.” Vanasha dipped her head toward Nasadi. “I’ll have Itamen put to bed. I’m sure the Chorus of the Utaru won’t require his presence.”

Her throat tight, Nasadi could only nod in assent, watching her closest friend and greatest asset carry her son up a curving ramp at the lead of an Utaru, Itamen dozing unawares. The rushing sound returned, urging her to chase after them, to pull her son away from familiar arms and to cradle him in her own. How else could she protect him from all the dangers of this world? There was so much out there ready to kill and destroy, and every second out of her sight was one second closer Itamen was to–

“Nasadi?” Aloy’s hand on her shoulder drew her back, an anchor against the swirl of thoughts. She blinked and forced a tight smile.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, wishing somehow it was true. Aloy’s expression softened from worry to understanding, and bow calloused fingers slipped into Nasadi’s own and gently squeezed.

“You’re not alone,” her Savior whispered, and Nasadi felt the words drip and take root in her heart, tiny hopeful things she was afraid would not last. But for now she can believe it. “Let me introduce you to the Chorus. One step at a time.”

This was a woman who daily stood her ground against demons, gods who walked among stars. She who made the greatest of kings bow before her, and the lowest of the common people rise to stand at her side. Nasadi breathed deeply; if Aloy of the Nora stood with her, what did she have to be afraid of?

Aloy’s presence smoothed over the obvious barbs that rose in the volume of words exchanged between the Chorus and her adopted people. Nasadi was grateful when Vanasha slipped through the gathering, quick as a shadow, and sat by her side in time to pass a wood carved platter into Nasadi's waiting hands. As cups were refilled with a smooth honey drink that left her feeling light and warm from the inside out, Nasadi watched the tension between the two tribes bleed away until there was nothing but the blooms of new friendship left in their wake.

Nasadi woke with the moon kissing her eyelids in silvery light, the dregs of a nightmare slithering back to the dark recesses of her mind to be forgotten, nevermind the tears they left drying on her face. Her limbs burned with the need to move. Turning her head she saw the curve of Vanasha’s spine in the midnight hues of shadow, the woman's shoulders rising and falling with each snore. Between them, Itamen curled on his side, one hand clutching a blanket against his mouth. Nasadi moved carefully, leaning over to brush a kiss to his soft hair, and then left the safety and warmth of sleeping bodies.

She stepped out into the chilly night air, only silent Utaru sentries to witness the path she cut through the city to the fields gilded silvery. Palo, she noted, trailed her like a shadow but made no move to stop her as Nasadi exhaled, hands skimming the spears left on the side of the Carja wagons in a circle in between field and city.

It had been years since Nasadi had felt the weight of a spear in her hands, but it felt as if she was coming home. She hefted the weapon, her palms too soft and her muscles unused to the feel, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before she became accustomed to it again. She gripped it tighter, feeling her fingers creak against the solid strength of the weapon and then whirled, swinging the spear outward in a scathing arc. It tumbled from her grasp, and though she shouldn't be surprised, Nasadi grit her teeth against the sting of disappointment.

Retrieving the spear, Nasadi adjusted her stance to anchor herself to earth and ground, placing her grip along the shaft half an arm's length apart. It was familiar in shades, memory trickling back to whisper instruction through time and distance. Nasadi thrust the spear forward, dropping to one knee to swing the weapon overhead in another arc, more controlled than her last sweep. She twirled back to her feet with another thrust, and her spear met metal.

The Utaru woman facing her was heavy with child but her stance was solid, well muscled arms holding the strain of a matching spear to block Nasadi’s strike. Behind her, Palo watched intently but made no move to intervene.

"Apologies," the woman murmured, pulling her spear away and stepping back. "You looked as if you needed a partner to cross blades with." Her dark gaze drifted across the borrowed weapon in Nasadi’s hands, the dark silks of her clothing. "Though perhaps you should leave the battling to warriors in your service."

Nasadi stiffened, jabbing the spear point into the ground. "You think I need protecting."

"I think you need practice, great queen." She reached out to tap Nasadi's spear shaft with the tip of her own, knocking it free of its lodging. "Zo; we met earlier. Aloy speaks highly of you."

"You're one of the Chorus." Nasadi leaned the spear against her shoulder, grasping her skirts to tie in her waistband and give her more freedom of movement. "I've been told the Tenakth values strength above all else, and I am not going to cower in the Grove like some wilting flower." She faced Zo, the glint of the spear pointed at the Utaru. "I am a huntress of the Oltu before all else. I am marrying Hekarro of the Tenakth. I will not dishonor either of our peoples."

Zo grinned and hefted her own spear. "Then I will spar with you, Nasadi of the Oltu."

She lunged silently without warning, lithe and quick despite the child she carried. Nasadi stumbled back, swiping her spear to knock Zo's to the side and sending the other woman stumbling to her right. Zo turned mid-stumble and jabbed at her, the tip slicing against Nasadi’s arm. She hissed in pain, stepping out of reach of Zo's next strike and lunging just as quickly. Zo batted her spear away and dropped to one knee, thrusting her spear upward. Nasadi twisted so her back was against Zo's spear, and stepped back into the Utaru’s space. Zo's eyes widened, sweat dripping down both women's faces and arms, and then she laughed.

"You are no wilting flower, Nasadi of the Oltu." Zo took her arm and pressed a kiss to Nasadi’s brow. "I have met with Chief Hekarro; he will complement your ferocity well."
It was a small comfort, but as Nasadi followed Zo to a small bathing pool and then returned to her sleeping roll, Itamen pulled to her breast, she found the idea of the man to be her husband was not as frightening as it had been before.

When Nasadi imagined the Grove, she realized in retrospect, she had been pulling details from her own time-hazy memories to fill in the gaps of what she thought it would be. The structure rising from the jungle was as old as time itself, and twice as grand than anything she could conjure on her own. There was nothing delicately beautiful about the Grove; no scrollwork from tiny hammers of craftsmen versed in years of metalwork, no silks hanging to separate men and women. The Grove rose from the jungle, imposing and beautiful in its own way, stone columns flecked with paint from centuries past and glimmers of the Old Ones beckoning for their stories to be heard within.

Aloy and Kotallo rode with the caravan as promised, more often the redhead climbing to sit beside Nasadi in the shade of the wagon, though it did little for the heat. The settlements of Tenakth they passed were few, but warriors came to watch them pass anyway, their movements slowed by the press of bodies as Tenakth greeted their own, painted hands reaching for Aloy and Kotallo in turn. They smiled and swapped greetings and stories with everyone they passed, hands clasped together to keep themselves anchored to one another. Kotallo’s gaze found Aloy even in the chaos, expression softening each time. Nasadi couldn't look away with every gaze he caressed her with; love evident between the pair as Aloy reached for the Marshal time and time again.

The Grove itself was teeming with more Tenakth than Nasadi had seen in any of the settlements; a sea of colors blending together into one riotous display. Before the wagons had even rolled to a stop outside the massive stone pillars of the ancient structure, Nasadi had spotted Avad and his guards amongst the crowd in their own bubble of space. Despite the calls for peace, it seemed the Tenakth were still as wary of the Carja as they were of the Tenakth. Even from this distance, Nasadi felt Marad’s gaze on her and shivered.

An older woman pushed to the forefront of the gathering, white hair as pure as snow braided back from her face with beads and feathers, and blue and white paint covering her face and neck. She grinned and clasped Nasadi's hands without preamble, clear eyes taking her in before she pulled Nasadi into a bone crushing hug. "Welcome to the Grove, Brave Heart. We've been expecting you."

Nasadi ignored the prick of tears, grasping the older woman’s shoulders to return the embrace. Now that she was here, it was only a matter of time. She slipped a mask of bravery in place, years of practice strengthening the carefully constructed expressions and tone of voice as she greeted the Marshals left in lieu of their chieftain, and then Avad and his accompanying advisors. It was only a matter of time, and Nasadi could feel the cage tightening around her.

Chapter Text

Jiran visited her again that night.

Here in the strength of old stones of the Grove, she wasn't even safe from his wandering hands and wine heated breath. It was always the same; he would find her in the darkest corners where she hid, curled tight into the deepest crevices in a futile attempt to escape his notice. It never worked, he would pull her from her hiding place and Nasadi- so used to his volatile temper- would force her mind into those same crevices so at least some part of her remained untouched by his mindless cruelty.

But even that wasn't completely true; here in the stillness of the night, years after his death, her husband still managed to scrape ghostly fingers along the ridges of her life.
Nasadi blew out a long breath and turned her gaze up to the canopy of the canvas tent she had tried sleeping under. The night was cool but still, sweat coated her skin and it only took a moment longer for her to accept that sleep would not return to her bed that night.

Nasadi crept from her bed, a pallet on the floor with a bit more privacy than she thought the Tenakth capable of, but she was grateful for it. Her gaze landed on the carefully folded silks of her mourning gown, but she stepped over it in favor of the breast band and soft leather leggings she currently wore. For the second time that week, Nasadi slipped away from guards and attendants into the open freedom of the night.

Dawn wasn't far off, she noted as she took the spear she had used the day before among the Utaru, the sky shifting from thick night into graying shades of the coming dawn. Nasadi slipped past a pair of Tenakth at the gate, both straightening at her presence, but beyond the curious stares, they made no move to follow her.

The spear was still heavy in her hands, wood rubbing against blisters on her palms, but it was too easy to slip into a mentality drifting through memories like a treasure rising from the depths of a lake. Nasadi’s bare feet were silent on the grass and earth paths, the sound of water leading her further along the hunter trails deeper into the jungle. She kept to the shadows as the jungle lightened around her, black giving way to gray giving way to the pale light of day.

She came to the source of water minutes later, trees twisting and bending toward the rushing water over moss covered stones. Nasadi exhaled and passed her gaze along the banks, pushing away large fronds of a plant she did not recognize, and froze.

The man across the stream saw her a few seconds after she saw him, a fact that in any other scenario would have meant her spear at his throat. But she was in Tenakth lands now, and though she could not place the paint markings on his skin, she was beginning to learn the difference of clan markings. This one bore the blue and yellow she had seen on the few Marshals left behind to guard the grove in Chief Hekarro’s absence. This man was no doubt one such warrior returning- which could only mean the Tenakth chief was not far behind.

He stood slowly, gaze fixed on her in a way reminiscent of a hawk watching a rabbit. It should have bothered her, his dark eyes lingering on the spear clutched in her hands and then up further to the white markings itching across her face. Nasadi hadn’t the courage to ask what they had meant when the inker had applied brush to skin, but given the stares of every Tenakth she encountered, it wouldn’t have surprised her to know she had a slur painted across her face.

The warrior’s expression lightened with humor as if he could read her innermost thoughts, and Nasadi’s face heated in response. He was handsome in his own way, broad shouldered and strong jawed. His hair was long, braided back from his face and shoulders with feathers and beads woven throughout the midnight strands. She caught the jagged line of a scar through the paint at the base of his throat, carving its way down his bare chest.

“You are not Tenakth.” His voice, much like his gaze had done before, was laced with light humor. He stepped toward her, pausing ankle deep in the burbling stream when she took a step back from him. The eyes she had thought dark as night turned to the golden glow of sunrise, bronze and green swirling together as the jungle came alive in his gaze. “You came with the Carja emissary then.” His gaze again flicked to the white markings on her face, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“And you are a Marshal to Chief Hekarro.” Her hands tightened on the spear, a more comfortable weight after days of practice.

The warrior lifted one brow at her, a flash of surprise crossing his chiseled features. “You learn quickly of our ways, huntress. You do your Sun King credit.”

Nasadi took a breath, words stopping in her throat as she heard the crash of foliage behind her. The man's gaze flicked in the same direction, Vanasha charging out of the shadowed jungle at the same moment two other Marshals appeared to join the warrior on the opposite bank.

"My queen," Vanasha panted, looking Nasadi over and reaching for her. "I woke and you were gone; I feared the worst."

"Peace, Vanasha." She turned her gaze back to the man in the water, noting the flare of warmth that pooled low in her belly when he returned her gaze. "I am unharmed."

"We should return to the Grove." Vanasha dropped her voice, eyeing the warriors in kind. "We don't know these people yet, and Chief Hekarro–"

"I can escort her back," the warrior said, a rumble of amusement in his tone.  He was smiling, watching Nasadi. The two marshals behind him began to speak but he held up a hand. "After all, it is a marshal's duty to protect. Consider it an honor to walk with the woman who will be our chieftess."

Nasadi felt the joke in his tone and expression, something she had overlooked. But these were Marshals, and the Tenakth would not risk starting a war with the Carja now, not after everything. So she nodded.

"I will walk back with the Marshal, Vanasha. Go back and stay with Itamen; I'll be safe enough."

“My queen,” the spy said, dipping her head and then slipping back the way she had come.

Nasadi exhaled and faced the trio of Marshals again. The two standing on the bank of the stream were much younger, she could see that at second glance, their paint crisply applied in the blue and yellow and white of their chief’s colors. The man in the stream nodded over his shoulder at them and they stiffened, saluting before they too departed. A man of authority, then, even among the Marshals. Perhaps she should have been afraid, but Nasadi was no longer in the cloistered halls of Meridian.

She was in the Grove on the cusp of becoming the Tenakth Chief’s bride.

He held his hand out to her, the burble of water between them. “I know a hidden path into the Grove, if you will walk with me.”

“I will,” and Nasadi placed her hand in his.

"So you are the woman to marry our chief." He pushed aside a branch to allow Nasadi to pass under, and she felt her gaze drawn to the flex of muscles along his back and shoulders as he did so.

"I extended the offer, so yes." She pulled her gaze away, slipping through the opening onto the other side of the trail. Her arm brushed against his chest and Nasadi swung her gaze upward to the warrior’s face. He was watching her amused, and open curiosity in his expression.

"Why offer yourself to a man you have never met? A man you have never seen?"

"Because, " Nasadi turned to look back at him. "I grow tired of the bloodshed and distrust between our peoples. If marrying Hekarro will bring peace, I am willing to try."

"I wonder," he stepped toward her again, and Nasadi was aware of how large he was. He towered over her, but not unkindly; head bent to meet her gaze and arms held still at his sides. She shivered anyway. "What would you do for peace, Queen Nasadi of the Carja? How much are you willing to give?"

“...you are asking the wrong question.” She shifted back and turned away, hands rubbing against her arms. “I have given more than any should, and I have more yet to give. My life, my freedom- what is another man exchanged over the gravesite of the last? Peace is a costly mission, Marshal.”

Nasadi turned her gaze back to him, taking stock of the unreadable expression on his face.

“You are entering this union as if it is a prison,” he said simply.

“Isn't it?” She sighed sharply and shook her head. “I am not...I know Chief Hekarro is said to be a kind man. And for all that has happened between our peoples, I would do much more than sell myself to him. But not everything is as simple as we would make it. I have been wed before; it is difficult to not find similarities of ghosts in living flesh.”

The warrior hummed a note of assent, curiosity coloring his tone. He nodded once and then gestured to an opening in the stone wall, giving her space to enter the Grove first. Nasadi ducked through the opening with the warrior half a step behind, entering into a well lit room. Flickers of flame held in the confines of torches cast their shadows along painted walls and she noted with a hint of surprise, the furnishings here were grander than she had seen in other portions of the Grove. Her gaze swept across the hanging swaths of painted canvas acting as cover over stone table and benches, the endless night sky stretching overhead without obstruction. A large bed took up the rest of the space; not a pallet, she noted with surprise, though the coverings were much the same. The only other adornment within the room was a large chest and a wood stand where a headdress of machine plating and beads and feathers hung. It was matched by the long spear leaned against the wall in similar adornment and upon seeing it, Nasadi felt her mouth run dry.

“You,” she whirled to face the warrior who had stopped just past the entrance they came through, giving her time and space to study the space clearly fit for a king.

Or a chief.

Her jaw worked on a thousand unspoken things but at last she settled on the most outstanding thought. “Why hide yourself from me?”

Chief Hekarro chuckled softly, the sound hesitant. “If I had told you who I was from that moment at the stream, would you have been so open and honest? No, wait,” he lifted a hand when she opened her mouth to reply, his movement careful as if approaching a wild untamed thing. “I have listened to your Sun King extol your praises, great Queen; your virtue and strength sung by the advisors kept close in your courts. But I wished to see you for who you truly were with my own eyes, hear your voice with my own ears. If I had told you my name, I would have lost the chance to truly you know you.”

Nasadi tilted her chin toward him, noting the way interest sparked like heat in his gaze. “So subterfuge is your answer, wringing naked truth from me without giving any in return.”

His laugh turned more earnest this time and Hekarro approached her in a handful of steps. She didn't move backward as he stopped before her, keeping her head tilted to stare up at him and though she wished otherwise, Nasadi could not ignore the thrill of heat coursing through her blood as Hekarro regarded her.

“You misunderstand me,” he said, one hand moving to grasp her wrist in a gentle grasp. Hekarro pressed her palm to his chest, paint scraping under her fingertips as his hand covered hers. “As you have laid your truth before me, I have bared myself to your scrutiny in return.”

Nasadi considered it; the lack of adornment upon his head or shoulders, how he had stood among the warriors of his tribe not as their chief but as an equal. How he had deferred to her with a respect that spoke to the truest depths of his heart- a heart, she was beginning to think, she did not deserve.

She lifted her gaze to him again and pressed her palm flat against his chest, nudging him back a step. Another and another until the stone edge of one of the benches pressed to the back of his knees, and Nasadi pressed him down to sit. She sank to her own knees before him smoothly, watching surprise cross his features, but she didn't turn to harbor the flicker of her own self doubt. Her hands trailed over the black inked markings on his thighs as she nudged his knees apart to make room for her there.

“So you say,” she murmured, watching his breath hitch and large hands coming to press down against hers, stilling their movement. “Do I please you, then, Chief Hekarro? Have the accolades of my virtue matched the woman before you, or do you find me wanting?”

Hekarro swallowed hard and then slid one hand along her cheek to cup at the back of her neck, pulling her flush against him. “You are far more beautiful than I could dream, your strength and will leaves me breathless, my Queen.”

She grinned and pushed up on her knees to kiss him, Hekarro's fingers tangled in her hair and Nasadi's hands pressed to his chest.

Perhaps it was still a cage; one moment of understanding would not be enough to shake loose the bars of her past, but for this moment alone... Nasadi, promised to the Tenakth, felt a glimmer of hope as the cage door swung open at last.