#Kilvas

[asktellius]

PRESERVE THEIR INNOCENCE!!!

[see]

16?

this one should've been higher too my god

[motionpicturedemise]

trick or treat!

treat! you get red four-leaf clover pikmin :)

[bumbog]

16?

Hello Cold World- Paramore

[queenlua]

for the past ~4 things i've written, whenever i need to make up a name for a location/character/whatever

instead of doing the thing i OUGHT to do (think hard about phonemes, vibes, etc, and actually construct something plausible that fits the setting, etc)

i just keep taking the names of random locations from the last vacation i went on & fudging a couple syllables around & calling it done

sooooo, if anyone winds up reading this story & has also been to Vail lately, i'm so cooked lmao

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

we all clear on that point now? yeah? yeah??? good.

[corvuschriisti]

The happy space that is between them thrums with life, and Naesala feels light on his feet. It started out as a curiosity, something to look at from the outside in. A beorc festival that made Naesala other. Except, he's not -- not really. Through Kurth's eyes he sees bright colors painted with history and culture. It is a kaleidoscope that warps what is in front of him into something more relatable.

Kurth is a dragon of Goldoa: a laguz. Perhaps if he can find his way in between the merriment and the celebrations, Naesala can too. And he will.

He lets himself be tugged. He lets himself feel happy. He lets himself laugh.

Maybe in another world, he could belong to this one. He might have grown up with wide eyes, without the loss of those he loved and those he ached for. He could have been free, could never have felt the Begnion nobles pressing their will down on all of Kilvas. In another world, he could have had his family.

But he figures, this isn't a terrible way to start. It's not a terrible way to heal.

end!

𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘰𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

[RECOVERY] - exploring the festival, Kurth & Naesala

[fairytail-whathesays]

Any headcanons for Tibarn/Naesala? Something about them is so fighting to touch each other so it doesn't look gay when we're breathing hard in each others' faces on top of each other.

Honestly you kinda clocked it

Did you know that absolutely nothing comes up on the gif search when looking up Naesala's and Tibarn's names? In light of that, I'll just use whatever gif I find that feels like it works.

Yeah sure, that'll work.

Tibarn is absolutely covered in scars from numerous battles, but what people don't tell you is that Naesala gave him half of them. Naesala has never won a fight with Tibarn--but he's never been easy prey, either.

Fucking with Tibarn's head is exactly the kind of nonsense Naesala would get off on, like, he doesn't necessarily enjoy being a bastard...but by god, if it doesn't tickle him a little to see Tibarn pissed off and flexing his fingers, always testing his patience.

Naesala has always slightly resented that he has to be the king of Kilvas. Yes, he does love his country, but as he makes clear, he's not all that interested in fighting or strength, despite being a fearsome warrior himself. He would much prefer the role of diplomat--it would free up his time a lot and put his conniving skills to much better use.

Tibarn has managed to hide his attraction to Naesala behind a mostly-genuine layer of impatience and righteous anger for a long time, so Reyson's cheating ability to read hearts means he's basically the only one who knows. He judges Tibarn ceaselessly for it.

If you've seen Tibarn's convo with Nailah, you'll know Tibarn loves a good fight a little too much now and again. And Naesala has the kind of silver tongue that makes him very dangerous in this regard. Even if Tibarn knew how to quit Naesala, he probably wouldn't. On some level, he has as much fun with Naesala's interpersonal fuckery as Naesala does.

Naesala's caring style is "I know someone who knows someone who has an antidote for your poisoning." and then going to get it, but then making Tibarn say something demeaning and ridiculous before he'll let him have any. He imperils them both this way but it's funny as shit.

Honestly? Naesala can be a little bit of a uhh, jealous bitch. I mean he makes it look smooth and he's entertaining with it but oh, let him catch Tibarn having been eyeing someone with any seriousness. Those sly comments he's always making get a little prickly for the next few weeks.

It's an "i licked it so it's mine" kind of thing, except it's "I put those scars on your body, no one else gets to claim them". Tibarn may not be his, but he was his before he was anyone else's.

Naesala and Tibarn will both marry other people, if only because both as kings are expected to produce heirs and that's basically it, but they're never going to quite be able to let go of the other. They will be exchanging glances across the room no matter where their royal duties take them.

Tibarn once called Naesala his wife to try and take the piss out of him. Naesala just responded that Tibarn is the one with the tits and the kids, so sources tell a different story, eh? And that's their whole style of banter for 300 years.

Look, if you haven't heard Naesala speaking the heron language, you should know that nobody, not even the Hawk King, is immune to having it spoken in their ear. Crazy stuff. Sly manipulative bastard.

[gloamvonhrym]

oh I never posted all my silly phoenicis worldbuilding (birdbuilding) that I did while in fanfic writing hell

here’s a huge mostly-boring set of notes expanding and/or playing havoc with canon. I’m putting it here for future reference. maybe to link to it for funsies if I ever post this hell fic

phoenicis is a small insular nation with little social hierarchy, living on inhospitable mountains inaccessible to anyone except other birds. phoenicis has therefore evolved on a somewhat separate cultural track from everybody else in tellius. in this essay I will

economy/practical shit

implicitly in canon hawks are intensely community-oriented. again, they’re a small nation without much hierarchy, and with some preference for chaos. they all “just do what needs to be done”, paraphrasing ulki. they’re not the Strong Guys for the heck of it: they work together to protect & care for their own, and harbor a strong sense of collective duty and trust.

so they’re commies

with serenes out of the picture they’re the biggest commies in tellius

they don’t have currency, that’s some human shit. to each according to their need etc

(exactly how small and close-knit is. phoenicis? small enough that kilvas, a similarly small nation with even fewer resources, could kill everyone on the home front in basically a day when it was left undefended. so. take that for what it is)

infrastructure

minor architecture tangent: we don’t see much of phoenicis & kilvas except for the exteriors of their respective castles, which is kinda boring. obviously not everyone lives in the castles. but phoenicis DOES have some other visible infrastructure, namely the funky detail of these open doorways built into both the castle itself and the surrounding cliffs:

(I don’t know if there’s any kind of proper name for these, because obviously irl we don’t need them and they’re not a thing. I��ve been calling them sky doors, and I might have nabbed that from rebecca roanhorse’s “between earth and sky”, although idk if she in turn nabbed it from anyone else)

anyway there appears to be no actual barrier on these, at least not externally. what did I say. commies. who’s gonna rob and kill you in your own home, in your little nation-commune, where nobody except other birds can get to you, and everyone trusts everyone else to do their duty and provide for each other. (the answer is that other birds will betray you, eventually. sad!)

anyway it’s boring to stick around the castle 100% of the time. I imagine that this architectural idea continues down into the valleys, where maybe artisans can make stuff and services can be provided and bargain economy shit can happen

hawks have seemingly only been pirates for the last 20 years or so, and they do piracy for the sake of vengeance rather than need, and they can’t do that much of it because there aren’t a ton of them; and unlike kilvas, they abstain from trade with the whole rest of the continent, and are isolationist by choice. so they must be self-sufficient in basically every way. someone’s got to be making fabric, making clothes, making shoes, forging metals, creating pottery, creating music and art, administering medicine, providing education, etc, somewhere.

healthcare

tangent about medicine: phoenicis is probably the only nation in the continent that has historically had no contact with healing magic at all. the herons had innate healing magic, and everyone else either has human mages or contact with human mages. but phoenicis is on its own. their medical science is therefore more advanced by irl standards, because it has to be. they know more shit about practical mundane antitoxins, antibiotics, wound dressing, surgeries, anesthetics, and complications. it’s less pleasant than magical means, but it works.

(canonically, healing magic works on wounds and not so much things like regular illnesses, so everyone’s still got some mundane medical care; but when that’s ALL you’ve got, I think it follows that you necessarily come to understand the pure mundane science better than most other people. I bet phoenicis has bred its share of real scientists. if anyone in tellius is going to invent electricity,) (also: they might value physical strength very much, but because they’re commies, I figure they take care of their sick/disabled/injured pretty well, and most of them are at terms with the fact that not everyone can be the Strongest Guys. reyson’s complex about being too weak to live is likely more due to survivor’s guilt, helplessness to protect others/wreak revenge personally, and a post-traumatic focus on violence as a primary determinant of outcomes, rather than any actual pervasive cultural messaging that he’s useless.)

age

hawks live to some, what, 300+ years? janaff says a 24 year old should barely be speaking, but I feel like his ass was just being dramatic, similar to the way we needle real-life 18 year old adult humans about being tiny babies. there’s no reason why any creature should take 20+ years to be at least functional, that would be a huge evolutionary disadvantage. I posit that hawk adolescence is considered to last roughly age 20 to 70 (with heron adolescence lasting somewhat longer, given their longer lifespan; maybe to 80-85, such that reyson has somewhat recently hit true adulthood by the time PoR rolls around).

teenagers are stupid. hawk teenagers are REALLY stupid. chaos predilection + hormones. many of them will gleefully pick a fight over any dumb thing and be horny about it. strong with the vigor of youth, but exceptionally poor sense of their own limitations

by age 100+, their temperament evens out; but any contender for the king’s power is probably going to come from the young crowd at any given time. speaking of which,

government

there isn’t much of one. phoenicis is not big. everyone knows everyone and they’re very efficient commies so everything gets done that needs to get done. tibarn has 2 dumbass advisors. who needs a secretary of state.

the title of king goes to “the strongest” (I assume the intent is that this is determined by combat, against self-selected challengers who get to take over if they win, wakanda style). although canonically, his power is that he gets to call some shots but doesn’t really get any special privileges or reverence beyond that, which is nice because it means that if the king became super unpopular, the rest of phoenicis could probably depose him without much trouble if they wanted to. no divine rights here.

(worth noting: I think tibarn’s characterization is super different between fe9 and fe10, with RD tibarn being a lot sassier and more informal. FEH skewed towards the RD vibe, and I think they were right for that. given the hawks’ uniquely relaxed philosophy towards royalty, their insular culture, and the likelihood that they all knew tibarn by name before he ever had a title, it wouldn’t make sense for them to do a lot of formalized bowing and scraping. RD tibarn would never have unironically addressed caineghis as “o majestic king of lions” or whatever he said)

(by contrast, apparently, in japanese, reyson consistently addresses tibarn formally (and also naesala, up until naesala betrays him). I don’t speak japanese and can’t really count this as an aspect of my experience of these characters, but I wonder if the other birds also address each other in this way, or if it’s a trait peculiar to reyson.)

family

families are not nuclear. hawks raise their kids pretty communally, foremost in unstructured “flocks” (households or clusters of households). actual bio parents may or may not be closely involved

parenting is kind of hands-off overall. the concept of adult supervision falls away pretty fast. “let your kid do the stupid dangerous thing so that he learns what’s stupid and dangerous” ass culture; learning by experience is optimal, and if you’re not adequately responsible then others are less likely to be sympathetic and/or have your back in turn. hawk kids tend to gain squads quickly, and they often hang together for life ride or die

if a young hawk is neglected or entirely rejected by their home flocks - rare, but not impossible - likely someone else will pick up the slack, if not adults then some loyal friends

relevant headcanons: tibarn, ulki, and janaff have been sticking together since an early age. ulki in particular had some problems - his original family did not appreciate that he kept overhearing things he shouldn’t, and he was way too autistic to know what was meant to not be repeated, so after not too long he became a bit of a lone wolf. tibarn and janaff already knew each other - janaff’s exceptional sight didn’t cause him any similar problems; and were initially concerned with ulki’s misfit status, but his ability was a valuable bonus. they all adopted each other.

food

the main thing hawks don’t do is cook. because they mostly eat raw meat, fish, and bugs, which is very sexy of them. I imagine every household has certain members designated to hunt regularly on its behalf. add that one to the chore chart

(maybe someone starts experimenting more with cooking when herons are there, and further when phoenicis is open to international relations. for fun and community!)

gender

ok the shit I made up, let’s go off the rails

hawks are queer-normative. in that they don’t give a shit about the anatomy or superficial presentation of who sleeps with whom. most of them are equal-opportunity in that regard

they are, however, by human standards, masc-centric to a sort of absurd degree. they’re not dumb senseless brutes (see again, commies, intense intra-community trust); they’re also probably not the most emotionally available fellas

(“but wouldn’t this level of intra-community trust result in greater emotional availability, not less?” look I’m not saying they’re scared of it. but why would you cry out your feelings with some other guy when you could be killing animals or committing piracy about it.)

gender presentation: I said equal-opportunity in terms of sexuality. might be because it’s a little difficult to tell. the games appear to have no female hawk characters but in MY headcanons their presentation is just masc-centric across the board, and maybe they skew a little less sexually dimorphic in general, so you wouldn’t know anyway

most hawks are he/hims. that’s just a quirk. like discworld dwarves but with less to say about it. just a nation of butches, for fun

bad gender parity in the tellius games? how do you know janaff isn’t a he/him lesbian

hawk dress is largely unisex, earth-toned, and utilitarian. not necessarily fully unadorned - tibarn has an earring & a few other things, including a necklace (feathers; battle trophies?) - but he’s still pretty rugged. nobody is flashy.

nothing AGAINST conventionally feminine presentation per se. hawks would chafe against overly rigid norms. but the way medieval-fantasy femininity looks, they’d probably think it’s a little odd in a practical sense. but who knows. maybe leanne starts something with those she/her pronouns and flowy dresses yk.

(tangent on clothing: phoenicis isn’t really friendly for something like cotton crops, but they can have wool, because goats & sheep can live on mountains. I’m also happy to make up that there’s some kind of hardy tellius breed of mulberry-adjacent tree, which can grow at least somewhere in phoenicis, resulting in the availability of silk and maybe barkcloth. or something. idk I’m not that kind of historian.)

sexuality

hawks primarily value strength, physical + emotional. we knew this. again, doesn’t make for the greatest emotional intelligence. overt softness is not the thing. tibarn kind of sucks at the direct empathy that reyson claims all living beings share, for instance. 2 hawks in a fight would rather tussle it out than waste time talking.

this carries over. in a partner, again, attraction tends to disregard sexed anatomy, but the most valuable thing is being well-matched physically. being creatures of chaos, they trust their impulses, they like a challenge, they don’t mind a fight, and they probably don’t super want to be with someone they have to worry about hurting

(hence that kind of hot chemistry between tibarn & nailah. also janaff hits on lucia at first glance bc she’s a knight obviously she’s got some beef babeyy)

pursuant: by and large, hawks really don’t find herons very attractive. that delicate graceful peaceful affect is kind of a mystifying ideal to them. it’s like art - nice to look at, ig, but what would you actually do with it. people significantly weaker than you are for you to protect, not sleep with. tibarn is a notable exception because he is down bad for reyson

and reyson is like an alien, and tibarn is maybe a bit of a freak for being into someone so fragile. you are the very strongest guy, tf you want with a boy who breaks if you look at him wrong. what do you get out of that sir. he has complexes about this :) but I’m not going to elaborate on that because that’s what hell fic is for

“herons in phoenicis: conceptualizing the vulnerable body in hawk-normative society”, the title of my tellius gender studies thesis at the university of crimea or whatever

speaking of reyson. what does this mean for him. I need to talk about it because I’m obsessed with him. the commie stuff isn’t that much of a culture shock at least

but have some added fuckery: sole survivor, adapting to another culture, learning another language; lone chaos-sensitive empath in a sea of macho chaos-oriented dudes who aren’t very attuned to that kind of thing; also extremely physically distinctive in a way that is kind of weird at best

how do you even maintain a sense of personal identity when the baseline relevant factor is “you’re incomprehensibly different from everyone around you in every way possible”? I think reyson experiences some Gender about this. the most masculine heron is still a lily reed compared to even a fairly femme hawk

reyson’s gender, per the rest of the continent: male. reyson’s gender among hawks: heron

I imagine leanne is somewhat shielded from this once she comes round - she’s able to lean on reyson and naesala, and I figure she does, pretty heavily, considering she picks up maybe a few words of the modern tongue over the course of 3 years. she’s deliberately feminine, and also has already chosen her own terrible boyfriend [affectionate]. she’s not without her own traumas, but she’s more supported, and maybe is even in a place to kind of enjoy the confusion & attention she garners from being the sole girly-girl. I feel like she would.

and her terrible boyfriend [affectionate] is a raven, not a hawk. and by contrast, ravens are VERY attracted to herons. because herons are pretty. and ravens like shiny pretty things.

misc

I’m not quite committed enough to make constructed-culture art, but in my mind hawk visual & aural culture resembles late antique/early modern celtic styles in a few ways. insular culture yk. some book of kells bullshit.

(kinda weird, upon reflection, that phoenicis isn’t full of ancient tongue speakers, considering serenes was allegedly one of the few nations they were ever friendly with. and yet even tibarn understands very little ancient. at the very least, being the most isolated nation, it would make sense for the hawks to have their own modern dialect. but they don’t, that would have been hard for an FE game to pull off, and I’m not enough of a linguist to try. so it is what it is! maybe, even though they don’t fraternize with other nations, they’ve always kept pretty close tabs on them just in case, the necessity of spying facilitated the shift to modern. whereas serenes never did that. anyway sometimes the hawks sound a little irish in my head.)

they are also superstitious. all those lonely windswept coastal peaks, there’s a lot of howling winds, spooky nooks, weird environmental physics interacting with weather phenomena. you end up with stories about folk monsters. hawks know shit about ghosts, fairies, sirens, and banshees, and how to placate them if you piss them off. also the herons sometimes scare people to death because they wear nothing but white and drift around like specters.

I also have a lot of headcanons about herons. but they’re more feelingsy. so I’ll leave that go. I might add to this as I remember more stuff

[calamitaswrath]

Cal Lucia plays Fire Emblem Path of Radiance: Chapter 12

Phoenicis and Kilvas, nation of the bird people. Now those I've definitely heard about, seeing as I got a friend who's Normal™ about them

Dragon nation of Goldoa. . . why is the dragon in the artwork that accompanies that explanation so ripped?

Considering that this boat journey is said to take weeks and weeks, I feel like this might also be the place to set some oneshot fics.

Ike and Mist have a little conversation about race and racism. I like how Mist admits to having been afraid of The Other™ at first, it adds to her character

Mist, Nasir has pointy ears. Do you really think he's human?

So what kind of Laguz is he, anyway? Can't be a bird, because I know that those got wings, even in their humanoid form. He probably isn't a beast/cat, because then he'd have different ears. Dragon, then?

Come to think of it, he has a marking on his forehead, just like Soren. . .

Right then, let's go over the base conversations.

Ilyana: ohh, some neat little backstory about how she came to travel with the merchants! These base conversations are nice for that. Even if you don't get a unit's supports because they're not deployed, they at least can see a bit of their character outside of that this way.

Zihark: that guy's just teasing his backstory. Based on his overall vibe, I don't think that that's going to be relevant for the main story, so I wonder where it will be explored, whether in base conversations or in his supports. Or Radiant Dawn.

And the last one. . . Sothe! Oh, I definitely already know this character! He's the character that Micaiah starts out with in Radiant Dawn. And since he's currently looking for someone. . . is he already looking for her?

Pirate attack! Can't have a ship map without pirates. Or. . . well, shouldn't, seeing as there are some without them in other games

And here are the birds. Since I have a friend who's obsessed with them I've def heard of them before, but I guess it's another matter whether those particular ones are there

Ah, same rules apply as with other flying units. Figures. I wonder though if it's gonna be the same for untransformed ones?

10 units only, hmm. . . three less than the previous chapter. Now I'll really need to pick and chose who to bring

Jill is here! And judging by the fact that she's an ally unit, I think this is where she's gonna join? . . .I mean, I say that, but since I looked at the strategy for this chapter beforehand, I already know that she does

MIST LEVELLED UP AND GAINED NO STATS?!?!

Ah, Jill is of the self-recruiting variety. And she has a last name? That's unusual, pre-3H

Oh, that was a good recruitment exchange. "I'm gonna join you! Let's kill those half-humans!" "Uh, no? How about you tone down the racism?" "Shut up, I'm gonna join you"

The boss mentions a King Naesala. . . yeah, that is a name I have heard before. Seems popular in the fandom, as far as I can tell.

Well that was a pretty short chapter. Huh. Fair enough though, can't have every chapter be as wild as the previous two. And makes for a welcome change of pace

More trouble brewing, and all just because Ike needed to leave the ship.

Uhhh, dragons! And generic ones, too. That's def uncommon in FE games

Kurthnaga. . . I heard the name before. And surely, the fact that he looks so similar to Soren doesn't mean anything.

Gareth! Now that is. . . a very red character.

Do you think that whoever drew the illustrations for the dragons in this game. You know. Really likes dragons?

For such a short encounter, this whole sequence really reads like it does a lot of setup for stuff that's supposed to come later

Ike muses about Beorc and Laguz, and realizes the inherent moral complexity of the world and people

Nasir and Soren both just so happen to not be comfortable near dragons (or rather Nasir is, and Soren just skedaddled). I wonder why.

Elincia, you must realize that you're getting nowhere with Ike. And I mean, I get the yearning on a general basis, I really do. So I'm probably not the most qualified to call you out. But still!

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

the next time Henry gets an alt in Heroes there should be a Forging Bonds of him just terrorizing the local(?) bird tribe heroes, ESPECIALLY the ones from Kilvas instill the fear of god into those guys that not even the goddess of dawn could do herself

.

[asktellius]

"Join me."

This is the most recent "ask" - so it's more polished than the rest of them, which were exhumed from the ancient pyramids. ;)

Nahil is my sister's hawk laguz OC. You can find more about her on ArtFight.net (https://artfight.net/character/2819040.nahil)

[siryamsalot]

I put up some of the little tellius fics that have been sitting in my files for forever, in an exercise to learn how to call shit finished

The Power Of Words

(746 words) by siryamsalot

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Reyson & Tibarn (Fire Emblem)

Characters: Reyson (Fire Emblem), Tibarn (Fire Emblem)

Additional Tags: Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, reyson's canonical suicidal ideation

Summary:

Tibarn makes a promise to his new ward.

Birds Of A Feather

(1169 words) by siryamsalot

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Ike (Fire Emblem)

Additional Tags: Character Study, Canon Compliant, Ike's class consciousness, unnamed kilvas pirates

Summary:

Ike has a class solidarity moment with the pirates of Kilvas in chapter 13

(girl)friendship

(734 words) by siryamsalot

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Gatrie & Stella | Astrid

Characters: Gatrie (Fire Emblem), Stella | Astrid

Additional Tags: quoiromantic Gatrie, Quoiromantic Character

Summary: Astrid and Gatrie talk about their relationship.

[emblemxeno]

FE fans’ discussions of racism and discriminatory depictions in its casts are always a swing-and-a-miss.

You have people on Twitter saying that the Ravens are an anti-Semitic stereotype that’s on the same level of discriminatory as Danved/Devdan-the actual borderline minstrel show caricature-all because... Raven enemies have coins in their inventory in FE9 and Nealuchi has a more prominent nose. And yes, that’s all. And I’d agree if Kilvas was depicted differently (instead of as a country taken advantage of by oppressive beorc), and the Ravens in general had anti-Semitic design elements instead of one old man having a big nose. But as it is? Don’t get me wrong, the Tellius games’ allegories to racism ebb and flow from serviceable to batshit and gross, and it undercuts itself sometimes because of how it depicts other characters not meant to be the focus. No denying there. But it’s not “Scary black man has scary black face and is called ugly by slave trader and don’t talk good” level.

And I just find it funny that the Ravens are seen as FE’s main anti-Semitic punching bag on Twitter Discourse Land rn, meanwhile, people still short circuit whenever you so much as dare bring up how Edelgard’s treatment of the Nabateans and how her Adrestian Empire in general have some disgusting real life undertones.

Again, swing-and-a-miss.

[amostimprobabledream]

The Ocean Rises (Naesala x Reader)

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54163753 “You look like you’re in a spot of bother.”

The smug, drawling voice caught you by surprise.

You looked around. Then up.

Sunlight behind the figure made it difficult to see, but you knew full well this was no angel you were looking at. No – this was a raven. And judging by the voice and size of those wings, not just any soldier, either.

No, you were looking at none other than the King of Kilvas himself.

“I- “ you said as you held up a hand to shade your eyes. “King Naesala?”

“The very same.” Purred his voice, and he descended with a casual flex of his wings until he was almost level with you.

You’d heard many tales about Naesala’s clever words and treacherous nature, but not just how damn handsome he was up close – dark hair that held a glint of royal blue in the sinking sunlight, a sharp-featured face and a knowing smirk lingering at the edges of his mouth.

If you weren’t currently stranded at the very top of a rock formation in the middle of the sea, you’d be appreciating it a lot more.

“Why are you out here?” you asked.

“Can’t a man enjoy surveying his kingdom from up high?” Naesala countered easily, sounding amused. “But more to the point, what are you doing here, miss thief? Wait, let me guess – you thought you’d check out some of the caves said to hold treasure on these beaches, and the tide came in unexpectedly while you were sneaking around. Am I right?”

“How did you know that?” you said in disbelief.

Naesala gave an artful little shrug, the leather jacket he wore creaking a bit with the movement.

“You wouldn’t be the first, sweetness. Plenty of pirates have drowned down there, thanks to being too greedy to mind their surroundings.”

“Ah.” You said uncomfortably, trying to keep your balance on the remaining tip of slippery rock that was still poking out above sea-level. Though who knew how long that would last?

“’Ah’ indeed.” Naesala smirked, and every beat of his wings seemed to be mocking you – he did not have to worry about such pedestrian things as getting caught adrift. “It would appear that some assistance may be required.”

Your eyes flickered over to him, heart thumping.

“You’d help me?” you asked, biting your lip.

“For a price, naturally.” Naesala said, examining his fingernails.

Naturally. Everyone in Tellius from Daein to Begnion knew that the King of Ravens didn’t do anything for free, not when dealing with laguz or with beorc.

Your heel slipped and you had to windmill your arms in the air to keep your balance, as if you couldn’t have looked any more ridiculous to him already.

“Yes,” you blurted out quickly, panic spurring you on. You didn’t have room to negotiate, and he knew it. “Please help me – I don’t have much money on me, but I can- “

“Oh, I can think of something else you could offer in lieu of pay.” Naesala drawled. His eyes slid over your frame and a slow, lazy smile that sparked heat in the pit of your belly spread across his handsome face. “I don’t just accept gold for my…service.”

He could not have made himself plainer if he’d taken a stick and drawn a picture for you in the sand. Rather than feeling offended at the suggestion, though, your skin was tingling from his weighted stare.

“Well, that sounds more than fair to me.” You heard yourself saying, your voice sounding far away to your ears. “Please help me.”

Naesala made a pleased sound and fluttered a little closer.

“Very good.” He hummed. “Hold steady now, there’s a good girl.”

Heat sizzled on your cheeks as Naesala wrapped a hand around your back and hooked the other in the crook of your knees. Your feet left their slippery perch and you found yourself clinging to his jacket as he gave a couple of firm beats of his wings and the churning sea receded beneath you. The thought of falling into that made your stomach lurch – you can swim but there’s no way you’d make it to shore from way out here.

“Relax, will you?” Naesala said, his voice reverberating in his chest. “It’s harder to carry someone all stiff with terror.”

His easy-going attitude would ordinarily be annoying, since fear of plunging to your death isn’t really something a bird laguz have to deal with, but somehow his casualness about the situation did make you feel a little less panicked – any minute now you’ll be safely back on land and all this would just be a bad memory caused by extremely poor decisions. You’re fine, you’re not going to drown. Everything will be okay.

Of course, there was still the small matter of payment…

You looked up at Naesala now, drinking in his features now that you didn’t have to worry about keeping your balance on wet rocks. With the dusky background behind him, his pale skin looked luminous as marble and the sharp planes of his jawline and cheekbones were very much a sight to behold. He also didn’t have that stuffy air to him that nobles often did – he wore his title with an informal ease and the fact he was easily carrying you in his arms like this felt like a ridiculously vivid dream. Would a man like this truly want what he seemed to be implying he did with an ordinary girl like you?

Still, you tried to enjoy the ride, leaning your head against his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“Enjoying the view, are you?” Naesala asked dryly, a smug smile on his face.

You laughed, a little embarrassed, but there was no point in pretending you weren’t admiring him.

“Well, it’s not every day one gets saved by a King. I thought I’d try to memorise the scene before we get back to shore.”

“Hah! No need for flattery, dear.” Naesala said, which was a bald-faced lie – he was practically preening. “We do have mirrors in Kilvas, you know.”

“Clearly.” You replied cheekily, which made him chuckle. It was a pleasant sound, a velvety note that gave you a peculiar warm feeling somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually, a Naesala glided down towards a cliff overlooking the sea, a forest swaying in the wind beyond that. His feet neatly touched down on lush green grass and he slowly set you down, making your you were firmly on the ground before he let go, and it struck you as an oddly gentlemanly gesture on his part.

“What is this place?” you asked him – it was windy up here but not unpleasantly so, though you would have appreciated anything after being stranded in the middle of the sea.

“Oh, these woodlands border a town nearby.” Naesala said, with a careless shrug. “But you’re out of reach of pirates and the sea up here, which I’m sure will be of some relief to you.”

“It is. I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere near any beaches for a while.” You replied, with a shiver. Robbing noble homes carries its own risks, but at least fear of drowning or spending hours pouring sand out of your boots isn't one of them.

Now, though, Naesala was eyeing you with that same amused smile on his face and he tilts his head, the last remaining rays of light catching the blue of his eyes.

“Now. About that payment…”

~

It turns out that Naesala’s casualness as a king also extends to his conquests too.

Which is why you’re currently being fucked up against a tree, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips and arms flung around him.

Not exactly the most dignified of encounters you’d ever had, but you certainly weren’t complaining, especially given that about half an hour ago you were in a position where you were seriously concerned you were going to die. So, it’s liberating feeling so alive – Naesala was warm and receptive and very much real. You could feel bark scraping your lower back where your clothes were rucked up, he was leaving bites on your neck and collarbone and the wind stung your bare thighs and you didn’t care at all.

“Nn…fuck…N-Naesala…!” you spluttered out as his hips snapped forwards, hitting you somewhere deep in you and you let out a muffled squeal against his shoulder – he’d told you before he picked you up and started feverishly kissing you not to bother with ‘King’ or ‘Lord’.

“Mmph…” Naesala muttered back – it had been a while since he’d had the time to indulge in such, ah, carnal pleasures, what with all the hard work he was doing for his beloved country, but how could he resist a sweet thing like you? Oh, true, you had been in a position where you’d had no choice but to accept his help and, therefore, being in his debt, but if you had truly protested this method of payback, he would have been mollified with gold, so long as you could get a lot of it. But this…well, this was a different kind of pleasure. "That's it…"

You then decided to do something you’d been wanting to do since Naesala first appeared in front of you – given what he was doing to you, you didn’t think he’d mind. But your hands snaked over his back, and you reached to touch his wings. It wasn't every day a normal human would get to do this to laguz royalty, and damn it, you wouldn't let it pass you by!

A little gasp left your mouth as your fingertips brushed ink-black feathers. They were so soft! Much softer than you had expected, and you ran a hand down it until you reached the spot where wing joined with Naesala’s shoulder blades, and you teasingly rubbed that spot sensuously with your fingertips.

The reaction was instant – Naesala’s feathers stood to attention like he’d received a lick of thunder magic and a lusty moan left his mouth that sent another jolt of heat down to your core.

“Ooh, you little minx…” Naesala gritted out. “Again.”

“Yes, sire.” You whispered teasingly in his ear, obeying his command eagerly. Naesala certainly could moan prettily when he felt like it, and you wanted to hear it again.

He paid you back for that by amping up the pace, and you cried out as he bounced you up and down the length of his cock, effortlessly holding you against the trunk of the tree, leaving you pinned like a butterfly. Not that you minded, being allowed to clench your thighs tightly around him and play with his lovely wings and listening to him growl and pant in your ear to your heart’s content. Throbbing was building up between your legs, Naesala’s hot breath fanning across your neck.

“You like this, don’t you?” Naesala’s voice said, a velvety purr contrasting with the rough pace he'd set. “You take risks and feel like a little God when they work out in your favour, and now you’re in the clear you like feeling this way, hmm? Riding the high for as long as you can, knowing any moment you could lose it all…”

How did he pin you down so accurately? He barely knew you, but perhaps Naesala was well-acquainted with the rush of being a thief, of not playing by the rules set out for you but playing by your own. It was true that checking out hidden coves on the beach was risky, since the pirates who may have hidden their treasure there wouldn’t have been pleased to find it missing, but you’d assumed it couldn’t be that dangerous.

You’d been swiftly proven wrong.

“Mm…yes…” you said, breathily, barely able to string together a coherent sentence anymore, though his question seemed to have been rhetorical.

“And now look at you…unable to do anything but take what I have to give you. Such a greedy girl~” he purred, nipping your neck. You groaned out loud – you were close, you could feel the pressure rising in you not unlike the waves below. You had to say, you were very impressed with the stamina of a laguz.

“N-Naesala…ahh…just a bit more, please…” you said in a whiny voice, so desperate for release you scarcely could think of much else. He chuckled at your pleading, though you knew he wasn’t far off himself, from how frantically he was rutting into you now, pressing you against the tree with enough force that you knew there’d be imprints of bark in your skin when he finally let you go.

“Oh, why not?” he said, with a throaty laugh. “I’m feeling generous today.”

The forest filled with the sound of muffled moans, with soft cries as you finally come, the endless movement and Naesala whispering words of encouragement in that buttery-smooth voice of his, the tone he used when he was persuading someone to trust him when they knew beyond all reasonable doubt he wasn’t to be trusted. It was astonishing sometimes how gullible people were, especially if you had a pretty face and sufficient charm.

Hot, blinding white pleasure flooded your body and you gripped Naesala so hard as you came that you were sure he was going to protest about you strangling him, but instead his wings trembled a moment like a tree about to shed its leaves, and there was a rush of heat between your legs as he shuddered against you.

For a moment you were both silent as you tried to get your breath back, and slowly Naesala lowered you to your feet, passing you a handkerchief he apparently kept in his pockets. You politely turned away from each other as you fixed yourself as best you could, though you limbs felt heavy and there was a light-headed fuzz swirling about in your head.

“Well,” you said, clothes all back where they were supposed to be, and you turned to Naesala with a rueful smile. “I suppose I’d better be off.”

“Oh? And where is it you’re headed?” Naesala asked, smoothing back his hair, fixing the few strands that had fallen in his face during his…prior activities.

“I’ll stop off at an inn somewhere, I suppose.” You said thoughtfully. “I have some friends in Begnion I can get in touch with- “

“Ah. That may pose a little problem,” Naesala said, looking very amused now, no sign of his earlier exertion on his face. His recovery time was certainly admirable. “You see, we’re a little more…southeast than that. It was closer to fly to.”

“You mean…this isn’t Begnion?” you said, in astonishment. You don’t know why you assumed it was, you hadn’t really been paying attention to which direction he was flying, you’d just been relieved to be heading back to dry land. You glanced back at the direction you’d come from, but the mainland was so far away that it was almost completely obscured by the evening mist in the distance.

Naesala laughed, actually throwing his head back.

“Oh, goddess, no. This is Kilvas, dear. I'd prefer not to go over there unless it's urgent. But if you’re worried about a hum- ah, beorc, setting foot on the island, don’t be. I guarantee you nobody will raise an objection if you’re my guest.”

“Your guest?” you said, blushing, which was ridiculous given what you’d been doing, but the thought of walking casually into a Kilvas village with the Raven King himself was a bit of an intimidating prospect. It wasn’t like you were visiting foreign nobility, after all. “Are you sure?”

“We get plenty of beorc merchant ships passing this way too, usually from Crimea.” Naesala explained, with a shrug. “My people are a little more open to doing business with beorc than the other bird tribes. It would be better for you to wait for one to take you back to the mainland, wouldn’t you say?”

You grinned, with a slightly shy nod. It was a perfectly sound proposal, after all, and since you’d been unsuccessful in finding any expensive treasure, you couldn’t afford to be picky about your accommodations.

“Come, it isn’t far.” Naesala said, turning to you with a smirk as he began to lead you through the woods towards the nearest village – no doubt they’d fall over themselves to attend to their king, he was usually out of the country on various business, so they’d be thrilled to see him. And why wouldn’t they be?

Naesala began walking, and then he glanced back at you.

“And, you know…I do believe there’s still some interest to collect for my generosity in saving you back there. But we can talk about that at a nice comfortable inn, hmm?”

You bit your lip to hide your grin.

“You sure to drive a hard bargain, your majesty.”

[queenlua]

what if naesala/sephiran nonsense … what if we were both beholden to forces greater than ourselves, attempting to manipulate circumstances to our own ends/advantages…… and we were both birds (although only one of us knows it)……… and we kissed. I guess that’s not really a prompt just a vibe

i tried very hard to make them kiss.  alas that would take another couple thousand words.  but hey i had fun with the first few k, so hey here's some Sephiran and Naesala nonsense

*********************************

The new raven king is nothing like his predecessor.  An improvement, likely, Sephiran thinks, though time will have to tell.

The old king Kilvas had had a harried, hunted air that clung to him like a shadow, everywhere he went.  He'd showed himself in Begnion rarely, and when he did, he was always looking over his shoulder for the door.  Oily-haired, sallow-skinned, and curiously ungroomed, given how vain ravens usually were about their appearance.

(Or, at least—how vain they had been in Lehran's time, centuries prior.  Maybe that had changed, along with so much else.)

When that old king had taken ill and passed, some thirty years prior, no one suspected foul play.  They'd all met the man, and sensed the air about him.  Born under a bad star, a heron might've said, if there were any left to say it.

(Sephiran had witnessed all that before he had made himself into Sephiran, of course.  When he'd borne peasant disguises, to stand among the men at these parties, as a servant or a scullery-man or a butler, biding his time in the beorc world—watching, waiting, learning all he could before he entered into the fray himself.)

This new king, however—Naesala, he's called—stands at ease in this crowd of beorc nobles.  Plucks canapés from trays passed by servants and eats them as delicately as you please.  Seems to care little whether anyone here likes him or not, which, of course, is a sure way to draw people toward you.  One after another, senator after senator goes to chat with him—some merely curious, some suspicious, some outright hostile—but all walk away smiling, pleased, flattered all the right ways.  That laguz king, the muttering admirers say here and there, how clever! how articulate! who knew the like!

(Though, curiously, none of those senators seem to learn much about Naesala himself.  It suggests he's the sort of man you can chat with for an hour, and go home to tell your spouse all about him—only to realize he said almost nothing about himself the whole while, that maybe the whole reason you liked him was because he listened so well.

(Sephiran knows the type, and knows the trick.  He's done the same, many times.)

It's in the midst of all this merry chatter, while Tanas is chatting up Naesala, that Lekain sidles up besides Sephiran.  The vice-minister nods toward the little ring of admirers around the raven: "His nation is very poor, you know."

Sephiran inclines his head slightly.  "Kilvas, you mean?"

Lekain nods.  "I had an audience with him just this morning, as it so happens," he adds, with a tone that suggests salacious gossip.  "Begging for scraps from our table."

"You don't say," Sephiran says, with a smile that is sad rather than sneering—though he knows Lekain will think it the latter, and will think them allies in this, sneering at the humiliated royalty of yet another lesser nation.  And Sephiran will let him think that, for now.  He's has lived too long, and has too many memories all muddled up together, to believe he could sustain straightforward lies for long.  But half-truths, little nudges, misleading gestures like a conspiratorial smile... those can go a long ways.  Particularly with a beorc as ingratiating as this one—he's never seen the like before.  Could almost mistake him as servile if you hadn't seen him on the senate floor, earlier this week, overweening and entirely assured as he struck a blow against Sanaki with that wretched speech he gave, right before the floor vote—

But that vote is past.  Sephiran is still smiling.  He hadn't known Naesala had anything to do with Lekain.  Maybe, if Sephiran keeps smiling, Lekain will say more.

"Of course I turned him away—hardly the time for it, with the harvest we're having, and him with so little to offer in turn."

"He is to be pitied, then," Sephiran says lightly.

Lekain stiffens, and Sephiran knows at once he said the wrong thing—though he's not sure how.  (He is to be pitied is the thinnest sort of sympathy, so trite as to be almost an insult.  But apparently even that thin sliver is too much for Lekain to hear.)  "Sephiran," Lekain says, "I'm aware we have different ideas about the place of the laguz in Begnion.  But Begnion must put her own citizens first.  You understand."

(Sephiran still imagines, sometimes, that he can feel other hearts.  But he can't, and it's caused him to misread a room more than once—hey may think he he feels some hidden surge of pity or generosity from the heart of a senator, only to later realize that that feeling was his own, and the senator had felt no such thing, judging by their callous speech the very next day.

(He's made that mistake with many senators, these past two years.  But never with Lekain.)

"Of course," Sephiran says, and he could mean anything, anything at all.

*********************************

Sanaki is rather taken with the raven king, as it so happens.

She arrives at her own party fashionably and tactically late, as she often does.  (A choice Sephiran at first allowed as a concession to her childish moods—she didn't want to go now, fine, but they must go later—but then he encouraged her tardiness, when he noticed the effects it had on their court.  How they watched and waited for their arrival.  How deferential they were, when she finally came to them.)

When she does finally arrive, Sephiran goes to walk alongside her.  And as she makes her rounds through the crowd, he nudges her toward dignitaries of particular import, the ones she must speak with—but he catches her eye slipping toward Naesala, many times, as the night carries on.  Watching him in some animated conversation and furrowing her brow.

Or maybe it's just his wings she's taken with.  Naesala's audience with her this morning had turned on that little detail, near the end.

The whole meeting had gone nearly perfectly.  He bid her his belated congratulations for her ascension as Apostle; she paid him all the compliments befitting a foreign king, and hoped for peace between their nations.  He wanted to trade; she wanted the same.  They'd secured some rudimentary terms, to be worked over by councils on each side.  And they avoided all talk of piracy, for now.  (No need to fuss over a few ships here and there  Not when they were just getting to know each other.  Not when Begnion could likely pay whatever price was needed to turn that raven looting elsewhere, when the right moment came.)

Then, near the end of that meeting, Sanaki did something Sephiran didn't anticipate: "I like your wings, King Kilvas," she'd blurted, with the sort of impulsive frankness only a child could have.  "I have never seen the like."

Well, Naesala would be the first bird laguz she's seen, wouldn't he.  Hawks, never keen on Begnion to begin with, have altogether refused to grace the nation's shores ever since the massacre, and of those few ravens who chose live apart from Kilvas, scraping together a living in the streets of Sienne—well, none could ever hope for an audience with an empress.

(And the herons, of course, were gone.)

"May I touch them?" she added.

Sephiran's mistake.  She couldn't know how rude that question was; he ought to have warned her.  Sephiran was about to step forward, then, to apologize on her behalf and smooth things over—a thing he'd had to do less and less, as of late, but she was still so very young.

But Naesala seemed unbothered.  "Well, you shouldn't ask that of just any raven, empress," he said, striking that subtle note between indulgent and ingratiating.  "But, yes, just this once.  You can touch."  And then he knelt down to proffer a wing.  Spread it wide, so she could touch the primaries, and the downy bits, and the other feathers in-between.  Which she did, fingers gentle, looking over at Naesala every few seconds to make sure she was doing it right.

"You should come to the banquet tonight," she said, after she pulled those fingers away.  "It's a party in my honor.  On account of my having been apostle a whole year."  She strikes a haughty pose for a moment: "Ordinarily these parties are very boring, but you may make it interesting."

Naesala's lip quirks.  But his eyes do glitter—he's considering it, and not just out of politeness.  "I'll have to leave before midnight," he says after a moment.  "Duty calls.  But yes, empress.  I'd love to join your feast."

And so he came; and so he's here.  And so she's watching him, now, though she's other, more urgent matters to attend.  (Naesala's nation is poor, and of little import—Lekain was right about that much.  Their chat this morning was more than enough time spent on the matter.)

So she's the first to notice, when he tries to make a quick exit—and the first to follow.  Which, of course, means Sephiran follows her.

When they find Naesala in the foyer, he's already traded out his fine eveningwear for traveler's clothes.  (Eveningwear that must've been procured on short notice, come to think of it—he must know Sienne well.)  He's nearly ready to go, from the looks of it; the only thing left is tying his boots, which he's presently occupied with.

(The other nobles leaving around this hour, of course, make no such change.  They came here in carriages, attended by servants, who would sooner throw down rugs before letting their masters mar their shoes with a single puddle.  But Naesala has no such coddling.  Laguz leaders travel by wing and claw, by their own two feet.)

"Kilvas," she calls, after he's finished tying the first boot.  "Surely you are not leaving in a storm such as this."

(There is a storm outside—loud, relentless, sheet-thick rain.  Easy to miss in the shelter and fuss of the party; less so, out here.)

Whether Naesala allows her brusqueness because of her age, or because of her high office, isn't clear—indulging and acquiescing look rather the same on his visage.  "We fly in rain all the time, empress," he says, smooth as silk, leaning over a little to look her in the eyes.  "The water rolls right off our feathers, you see."

It's a lie; Sephiran knows it to be a lie.  Heron feathers are oiled, and thus bear up against water, but raven feathers soak right through.  If Naesala goes out now he'll be drenched within minutes.  But Sephiran can't exactly say that, can he.

Then: a flash lightning, with the roil of thunder right after.  Even Naesala winces at the sound.  They all do—Mainal has all those chambers and vaults that echo the sound within it, and the thunder seems to snap within every single one.

"Your feathers won't help if you get struck by lightning," Sanaki deadpans.  She raises a brow as though this raven king is a mite slower than she'd expected.  "You should stay."

"I'll take my chances," Naesala says, with rather uncourtly snappishness.  He pulls the other boot on and rises to leave.

Then: "King Kilvas," calls a voice from across the chamber.  Lekain's smiling hugely as he enters the foyer.  "I could convey you to my own abode, here in the city, there's plenty space in my apartments for a guest, and this storm's expected to last all night—"

"No," Sanaki says, her little eyes narrowing to slits, "I offered first.  He'll stay here."  She tilts her chin upward, imperious.  "Won't you, Kilvas?"

Naesala looks between the two of them with a faint air of exasperation.  But he does relent.  "As you wish, your highness," he says, nodding toward Sanaki.  "I'll be gone at first light."

*********************************

Sephiran rises early the next morning, as is his habit—or his gift, or his curse, depending on your perspective.

Sephiran is an early riser because he hardly sleeps at all.  It's something about Ashera's blessing on him, he suspects—ever since that battle with Yune, he's hardly ever been able to sleep more than a handful of hours at a time.  He'll lie down well after midnight, wake well before dawn, and he'll feel as rested as though he'd slept twenty hours instead of two.

And that curious new tendency had been only a curiosity, a source of amusement, when the blessing had first been bestowed upon him.  It gave him a few hours' rest aside Altina, then a few hours to watch her sleeping form, in the quiet, by lamplight—the best of both worlds, he thought.  Thought it an unmitigated gift.

Of course he'd think differently, later.  Bad enough, he'd been denied death for so long.  To be denied its nearest thing—blessed sleep—when he hungered for those scant hours, savored them as a man dying of thirst savors water—the thing he only ever had for a few hours at a time, no matter how many sleeping draughts he swallowed, no matter how much he wanted to simply not wake up—

But there's no escaping it, whatever it is.  So he's awake, well before dawn, and so he's wandering the halls of Mainal when he runs into Naesala.  Catches sight of him when he's poised over the ledge of the ramparts, just about to fly—

"King Kilvas," Sephiran calls, from the other end of the ramparts.

Naesala pauses.  He's still poised, ready to leap.

"Sanaki will be very unhappy if you don't at least stay for breakfast, you know."

Naesala flexes his wings at that, angling them to catch the breeze.  "Pass along my regrets, then.  I don't mean to disappoint, but I do have a kingdom to run, you know."

And Sephiran thinks he's lost him, then—things he'll spring over that railing and fly straight away—but he pauses, just long enough to give Sephiran a passing glance.  Then another.  Then he tucks those wings in.

"Not sure I've ever seen you without your charge before," Naesala says slowly.

Ah.  So that's what's caught his interest.

He crosses to Sephiran's end of the ramparts, and says in a low voice: "That was an interesting maneuver of yours in the senate, the other day."

"Beg pardon," Sephiran says, his smile unmoved.  "I don't know what you're referring to."

"That motion to offer Begnion citizenship to laguz on equal terms as that of the beorc.  It can't be too popular among your peers."  He tilts his head.  "That is, if they still count as your peers.  Does prime minister mean you're above them, now?  The finer points of Begnion politics escape me."

"That motion was the empress's alone.  I am but her advisor, and her voice within the senate."

"The empress," he says flatly, "is six.  I understand beorc years are reckoned a bit differently than laguz, but by any measure she's a hatchling at best."

"You've spoken with her yourself.  I think you'd agree she is quite self-possessed."

"She's precocious, sure," he says with a dismissive snort.  "I've got a nephew who does sums and figures better than half my so-called bookkeepers.  Doesn't mean he runs the country."

Sephiran lets that statement, the implicit accusation, simply sit there.  Stands in silence so long that Naesala's wings twitch a little, that anxious tic so many bird laguz share.

And then he shakes out the whole wing, as though after a long stretch, to hide that little twitch.  "That's what your senators would say, at least."

"By senators, you mean Lekain, I suppose?" Sephiran ventures—and when Naesala's eyes flicker, Sephiran ventures even farther than that, a little bluff: "I did notice your departing his offices yesterday morning.  Are you his dogsbody, now?"

And that bluff strikes too—too true, truer than Sephiran imagined.  For a moment there's a flicker of the old king on Naesala's young face: harried, hunted, pale as bone.  He looks at Sephiran as though Sephiran has stabbed him, and Sephiran can't make out why.

Can't make out why Naesala would beg favor from Lekain in the first place, come to think of it.  The man's notoriously stingy when it comes to his own subjects, let alone some foreigner's.  And if it's money he needs, that Tanas has more than enough, and seemed charmed enough by him last night.

And Sephiran feels a stirring, then—unbidden but wanted, the way you can want to press on a bruise or tear at a scab—the same possessive impulse that stirs him whenever Zelgius comes mewling.  Because if Lekain has some hold on this foreign king, some pull that can make him go haggard and harried in a breath—then maybe Sephiran can grasp it, too—grasp him, wring something from him the same way—

"Please," Naesala says, with a dismissive wave, a half-second too late to be convincing.  He's still a little pale, but that easy smile is back, fixed in place.  "Lekain and I talk sometimes.  That's all."

And like that, the stirring's gone, replaced by an inchoate sort of shame.

"Ah," Sephiran says, with an easy smile of his own, easier than Naesala's by far.  "If that's all, then.  I assure you again: the will behind Sanaki's initiatives is her own."

"And how long have you been in the senate, Sephiran?" Naesala asks after a moment.  "Two years?"

"Two years next month."

"Well," Naesala says darkly, "you'll learn.  They all do."

Sephiran's not sure what he means.  But staring at him now, he feels a different sort of stirring.  Sees Naesala, his wings once again angled into the breeze, and thinks of the little girl, still asleep, who likes wings and feathers and doesn't like how Begnion treats them.

He should harden his heart against such a stirring.  There can be no peace, from what Sanaki is doing.  No justice.  He has lived a hundred of her lifetimes—quite literally over a hundred—and has seen how this plays out, time after time.

But then she'll declare what she will do, in one of those impetuous little fits of hers—and for a moment, precious minutes, once the length of a whole and sacred hour—Sephiran will believe her.  That the world can be fixed, maybe, and so can he.

Never longer than that.  Still not even as long as his scarce little sleeps.  But not nothing.