#rusila

(It had been like something out of a story. Rusila’s mother had wanted to match her up Rasmus, a newcomer to a ship and barely more than a child, not to mention of a gender that Rusila wasn’t particularly interested in.

Rusila had panicked beneath Aranea’s expectant gaze, and had quickly told her mother that her and Malia had been seeing each other in secret, that she couldn’t possibly be with Rasmus.

Aranea had always favored Malia, so of course she instantly approved, and Malia? Malia had been more than happy to play along after Rusila asked her to, stuttering adorably.

She would often wonder if that might’ve been the time to tell Rusila that she had always had a crush on her, and perhaps of made their fake relationship into a real one.)

Sitting down heavily on her bed, Malia read the letter for the seventh time, the parchment crinkling slightly in her tight grip.

Malia,

By the time you read this, if all goes well, I will of been gone for hours. Rasmus is taking Cord, Dalia, the children, and I somewhere far away, somewhere that my mother can no longer hurt us. At least, that’s the hope. I wish that I could tell you where, but that would be too dangerous.

I feel like a coward telling you this in a letter instead of in the flesh, but I knew that I would never be able to tell you otherwise.

I just needed you to know that my feelings towards you were never pretend. I wish that I could’ve told you that during the last year, but I was always too afraid. I didn’t want to lose you.

I know that you probably don’t feel the same, and that’s alright. I appreciate everything that you did for me over the past year, Malia, more than I can say.

I hope that we will see each other again someday, in a different life. Be safe.

I love you.

-Rusila

Those three words stare up at Malia, taunting her, curling around her heart and squeezing tight. She wants to scream, she wants to cry, she wants to fly away into the rain until she finds Rusila, taking her by the arms and whispering, I love you, too.

It’s too late for that, though, and so instead she runs her fingers along those three damned words one last time before folding up the letter into a tiny square, tucking it into a small pocket in her swordbelt, where no one will find it.

In three days, Aranea will return, half-drowned and bloody, having murdered two of her other children. In a year, Aranea will die, killed at the hands of her vengeful granddaughter, and Malia will seize control of the ship, much to the happiness of the crew.

A year and a half after Rusila left, Malia finally sets eyes on her again, but it’s too late.

When Rasmus had contacted her about becoming a partner to the kingdom he now led, sending along the no longer secret coordinates to the island that they lived on, Malia had immediately set sail. Sure, the opportunity interested her, but everyone on the ship knew that she had an ulterior motive, and were all less-than-secretly rooting for her.

(“Excited to see your girl again, Captain?” Kalliope had teased, winking at the Skydancer.

“Shut up, Kalli,” Malia had nearly blushed, and the Pearlcatcher had only laughed, patting her captain on the back.)

When Malia finally saw Rusila again, the first thing she noticed was how happy the other Skydancer looked.

The second thing she noticed was Rasmus’ little sister, Kepi as she would later learn, on Rusila’s arm, smiling as she kissed the taller dragon on the cheek.

Malia decided that she couldn’t quite fault Rusila for moving on after so much time had passed, certainly since they’d never even been truly together, but that didn’t stop her from sending Rusila longing looks every time she returned to Roava, unsure whether or not she wanted her to notice.

(Rusila never did, but Kepi certainly took notice.)

Present

Kepi found her mate on the balcony outside of their shared room, leaning against the stone railing, staring out into the distance.

In the waters just off the coast, The Crimson Jewel, the ship that had once belonged to Rusila’s mother, was burning. It was an intentional fire, and its former crew stood on the shoreline, celebrating the ship’s demise.

For a time, Rusila’s niece, Savitri, and Malia had played at being friendly rivals, but they had recently come to a mutual agreement; neither of them were the perfect captains of their respective ships, but together they would be a force to be reckoned with. Deciding to become co-captains of Savitri’s ship, The Scion’s Triumph, they had then quickly come to the decision to destroy the Jewel.

The boat was haunted by Aranea’s cruel ghost - not literally, though sometimes it felt like it - and no one was sad to see her legacy meet a flame-filled end.

(Earlier in the day, Kepi had accompanied Rusila down to the docks when she went to see the ship one last time.

Rusila had grown up on the Jewel, and nearly all of her best and worst memories lived on that boat. She had run her hand across the smooth red wood, from end to end, before standing at the edge of the ship, staring out at the water.

Heaving a shaky sigh, she nodded, before turning away and disembarking, giving Kepi a watery smile as they made their way back to the castle.)

Leaning against the railing next to Rusila, the two stood there in silence for a bit, watching the Jewel slowly break apart, the sunset a rather nice backdrop for the end of a tragedy filled era.

“I wish that my mother could’ve seen this,” Rusila finally said, a hard glint in her eye. “She loved that ship, more than anything. More than she ever loved Magnus or I. I wish that she could’ve seen it burn, and could’ve felt the sort of loss she should’ve felt over her own children.”

Kepi rested a hand on her mate’s back, rubbing lazy circles as she spoke.

“I’m sure that your mother is rolling over in her grave as we speak.”

Rusila smiled a bit at that, and after a few more moments she shifted, moving behind Kepi, wrapping her arms around her as she rested her chin on top of the queen’s head. Her movements were slow, always just the slightest bit hesitant when initiating any sort of physical contact.

They stayed like that, quietly watching the “show”, until the sun was nearly gone, stars beginning to dot the sky above them.

“I miss it, sometimes,” Rusila eventually murmured, her voice tinged with melancholy. “The sea.”

“The ocean’s right there,” Kepi teased, though she was pretty sure she knew what Rusila truly meant, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t scare her just a little bit.

“You know what I mean…sailing, being out there on the open sea with nothing but ocean around you for miles and miles. Or maybe you don’t know what I mean, sky pirate,” It was Rusila’s turn to tease, referencing Kepi’s mother’s airship.

(Kepi bristled just the slightest bit at the mention of her family, thankful that Rusila couldn’t see the way that her face fell, or her teeth clenched.)

Finally, pushing aside any vulnerability that threatened to creep into her voice, Kepi asked the question that worried her the most.

“Would you ever want to go back to it? To that life?”

“Maybe someday,” Was Rusila’s airy, breathed out response, and while she thought that the “only if you came with me” went without saying, it most certainly did not in Kepi’s mind.

Kepi had invited the crew of the Scion’s Triumph to dinner in the castle that night, and it had turned into a rather raucous celebration. Stretching long into the night, Kepi was mid-conversation with one of the crewmembers when she saw it, out of the corner of her eye: Malia, leading Rusila from the room by her hand.

(It’s nothing, you can trust Rusila, a part of her mind reassured her.

But can you trust Malia? Follow them, another voice advised, and so she did.)

Excusing herself from the conversation, Kepi made her way towards the door as inconspicuously as possible, not wishing to draw any attention to herself.

Once outside, it was easy enough to figure out where the pair had gone, their voices easily heard from around a nearby corner. Creeping towards the adjacent wall in a way that looked absolutely ridiculous for a queen, Kepi rested her back against the wall and listened.

“-maybe it’s time for you to get to bed,” Rusila’s voice was quiet, coaxing.

“No, Rus, please, I just…I just can’t put this off any longer, please just listen,” Malia’s voice was only slightly louder, pleading, sounding entirely more emotional than Kepi had ever heard the captain.

Rusila must of gestured for her to continue, judging by the quietly murmured “thank you” from Malia. There was a stretch of silence, before finally-

“I still have that letter you left for me. I read it every now and then, as…I don’t know, as a reminder, I guess. Of what could’ve been…of what still could be, some day.”

“Malia, I’m with-”

“With Kepi, I know! I know, and I’m not asking you to choose. I just…I need you to know that…I love you, too.”

“Too?” Kepi couldn’t help the chill that ran through her at the use of that word; Rusila had told Malia that she loved her? When? Unable to help herself, the queen just barely peeked around the corner, finding herself with a side view of the other two. They stood less than a foot apart, and that alone made her want to interrupt, made her want to walk over and shove Malia away from her mate.

Instead, she stayed still, waiting to see what Rusila’s reaction would be.

“Malia, I…I-”

“It’s okay, I know that you might not still feel the same way, I don’t…let’s just forget I said that, okay?” Malia began to back away, sounding uncharacteristically uneasy, but before she could get very far, Rusila grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in.

Kepi’s heart stopped for a moment before she realized that Rusila had merely pulled Malia in for a hug, not something else; nonetheless, her mate’s next words still made her heart ache.

“I do still love you, I’ve never stopped,” She said, holding Malia close, and after a moment of shock she hugged Rusila back, eyes fluttering closed.

Kepi had heard and seen enough; as quietly as possible she turned and fled, willing away any tears that threatened to fall, her mind whirling.

If only she’d stayed a moment longer, she would’ve heard her mate’s next words:

“But I love Kepi too, I love her so much, and I just…this is all too much, Malia,” Pulling away, this time it was Rusila that took a few steps back, though Malia made no move towards her, clearly seeing the other dragon’s sudden anxiousness. “Everything with Rasmus, and how strangely Kepi’s been acting lately, and now you tell me this, I just…I just can’t…”

Rusila’s voice broke as she trailed off, not making eye contact with Malia, and the captain finally put her hands out in an attempt to stop Rusila’s increasingly panicked rambling.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…the last thing I want is for my…my feelings for you to be another problem on your plate. Really, we can just…forget that I said anything, at least for right now, okay?”

Rusila finally looked up at Malia, her eyes searching the other dragon’s face for sincerity, before nodding, wiping at tears that had yet to fall. Malia smiled, a melancholy little thing, and Rusila smiled back, happier than she could say that Malia understood, that she understood Rusila as she always had.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the room they shared, Kepi was planning the conversation she would be having with Malia the next day, cutting all ties between the kingdom and her and her crew.

-

abrupt ending but??? this was…..entirely too much fun to write lololol. I really wanted to get the next part finished by today, because it’s intense, and it’s my birthday and I always post lore on my birthday, but this is a suitable fill-in lol. the other one will be finished very soon, though! and hoo boy, it’s very emotional.

the last two years the lore I’ve posted on my birthday have centered around Aranea, and while she may be dead, she’s still here in spirit. :’D the first year was about her getting her ship and becoming a pirate, the second year was her getting super dead, and now this time her ship is the one dying, so it’s pretty fitting~

Ravi prattled on nervously about something or other, his hands flitting about over his father’s body, and Kepi tried to listen, but instead her eyes fell on Cord. Kneeling next to him, she noticed the barely contained panic on his face, the way that his hand hovered just barely over Rasmus, shaking, afraid.

Reaching out, on instinct or as part of her act - she would swear it was the latter -, she took her brother’s mate’s shaky hand in her own, squeezing, holding it as she found her words.

“Ravi,” Her voice cut across his rambling, sure and strong. “He’s still breathing, he’s…okay for the moment. We should get him to his room, so that you can check him out properly.”

Reaching out to take one of his hands as well, offering a low “it’s okay,” she imagined - with little modesty - that she must look the picture of strength, level headed and calm as she comforted the two panicked dragons before her and took control of the situation.

Standing, keeping her hand around Cord’s, her gaze landed on Thain, at the back of the crowd, and her next words came just as easily.

“My friend, Thain, is a healer as well…I’ll have him come, too, okay, Ravi?”

Ravi nodded jerkily, his eyes not meeting hers, still on his father as Arys and Rusila, both looking quite shell shocked, very carefully lifted Rasmus.

Kepi nodded, waving for Thain to follow, pausing for a moment as she scanned her eyes over the crowd, standing tall as she spoke, her voice easily projecting.

“The King will be just fine, everybody, he’s in very capable hands,” Giving them all a reassuring smile, she turned, Thain falling in at her left side as she gently tugged Cord along at her right. Cord was well-loved among the clan, and she knew that it would only work in her favor to be seen treating him so kindly.

(That’s not why you’re being so gentle with him, a low voice murmured deep within her. She swiftly locked that voice away with the rest of her emotions, ignoring it before it could go on, not wanting to hear what it had to say.)

As they followed closely behind the others, up the stairs and towards Rasmus’ room, Kepi could tell that Thain wanted to say something, but of course couldn’t with Cord there.

When she felt his cold, cold fingers just barely brush against her own, a product of him walking so close to her side, she instantly closed her hand into a fist, moving it away.

(Don’t touch me, a distant part of her hissed at him.

He’s done you a kindness, risked himself for you, don’t be so harsh, another part murmured. She wished for them both to shut up.)

They arrived at Rasmus’ room moments behind the others, walking through the double doors just as Arys and Rusila carefully lowered him onto his bed.

Laying there, eyes closed, he almost looked peaceful.

(He’s just sleeping, really. That’s all it is. He’s completely fine, a part of her reassured, while another hissed, until he isn’t. Until the next part of the plan.)

While Kepi stayed in the doorway, Cord frozen at her side, Thain moved forward, approaching the bedside.

She couldn’t help but grit her teeth at him laying his hand on Ravi’s shoulder, murmuring some sort of false reassurance; Ravi simply nodded, still staring helplessly at his father as the Nocturne began to see if he could “help” Rasmus. Finally, as though realizing how utterly uselessly he was behaving, Ravi sprung into action, joining Thain in examining the king.

Taking in the scene, Kepi waited a few beats before letting out a quiet, falsely mournful sigh.

“Let’s leave them to their work, hm? Ravi will let us know when Rasmus wakes up, we should all get some sleep.”

(When Rasmus wakes up, she says so easily, as though she doesn’t know that’s not going to happen.)

The other three nod, but Cord merely loosens his hand from hers and lowers himself against the wall next to the door, keeping his distance from the bed, yet still clearly not wanting to leave.

As Kepi and Rusila left the room, Arys, too, stayed behind, stopping outside of the closed doors, falling into the guarded stance that he held every night.

Time seemed to slip away as she and Rusila walked to her room in silence, and the next thing she knew they were laying in her bed, side by side, staring at the ceiling.

After what could be either minutes or hours of silence, Rusila breaks the quiet, her gaze still trained upward.

“He’ll be just fine, I’m certain…Ravi is such a good healer, and I’m sure your friend is very good, too…” She murmurs; the doors to the balcony are open, and her words are almost drowned out by the crashing waves outside, but Kepi can still clearly hear the way her voice strains. She thinks that Rusila is likely comforting herself as much as she’s attempting to comfort Kepi, and that, after everything else, makes her nearly feel like she’s going to be sick.

Even with her emotions buried so deep, she doesn’t trust herself to say anything, not with Rusila, who she would likely tell anything in a moment of weakness; instead she closes the distance between them, the few inches of open bed, laying on her side as she nestles her head against her mate’s chest, curling into her. The Skydancer easily wraps her arm around Kepi, pulling her closer.

(Rusila always understood actions better than words anyhow, though physical contact had seemed like such a foreign concept to her when she and Kepi first got together.

She still wasn’t a fan of physical intimacy - or any sort of intimacy - in public, but in private she seemed at her most happy when they were laying in Kepi’s bed, cuddled together.)

Rusila’s heartbeat is fast underneath her ear, and with Kepi’s right arm somewhat squished between them, she reaches out her left hand, wrapping her arm around Rusila’s stomach until she finds her right hand, taking it gently in her own.

Concentrating on slowing down her own breathing, she rubs slow circles on the back of Rusila’s hand, listening as her mate’s heartbeat quiets to a much slower beat, her chest rising slower and slower with every passing minute.

“I love you,” Rusila murmurs as sleep begins to take her.

“I love you, too,” Kepi whispers back, and it’s the most honest she’s felt all day, and the most at peace.

She doesn’t want to join her mate in sleep, doesn’t want this moment to end, to have to deal with what she knows the morning will bring, but she has little say in the matter, Rusila’s heartbeat and the ocean outside such a lovely lullaby.

One month after her brother fell into an unending slumber, Kepi became queen.

For three weeks she had been ruling in all but title, and she had been patient in making it official.

One week after Rasmus collapsed, Mira, his primary advisor, had called a meeting of sorts. With Rasmus out of commission, and Cord refusing to leave his bedside, Rusila had been left in charge of making all of the important decisions. But as it had become clear that Ravi and Thain would take a while to figure out what was wrong - difficult, of course, when only one of them was actually trying - it had also become clear that someone else needed to be put in charge; Rusila was only growing increasingly frazzled, the stress of being in charge of her Guard and the rest of Roava just too much.

“You’ve done a fine job, of course, Rusila,” Mira had reassured at the meeting, laying a comforting hand on her mate’s aunt’s arm. Rusila gave her best modest smile in return, but it mostly just looked tired, and perhaps a bit grateful that she could go back to only being in control of the Clan Guard.

“It’s just…if Rasmus is going to continue to be…out of commission, we need somebody that can handle the situations and decisions that come with ruling Roava, for longer than originally expected…how is he, Ravi? Thain?” Mira turned to the two healers.

“I…he hasn’t gotten any worse, but I just can’t figure out how to…reverse whatever’s happened,” Ravi responded, looking quite exhausted. Over the past week he had gone from hopeful to distraught and back again in turns, and it was clearly taking its toll.

“While I am certain we will eventually suss out the problem, for now it would seem that the king will not be waking up any time soon,” Thain added, an air of solemnity to his words; Kepi, sat at his side, knew better.

(“The boy, your nephew, he is smart, but not smart enough…he’ll surely never figure out the cause of his father’s ailment, or at least not until it is much too late,” Thain had gloated to Kepi one night, and she had smiled, perhaps laughed even, though deep down she couldn’t stand to hear him speak of Ravi in such a way.

“His grief is clouding his mind, no, he will be of no worry to us.”)

Mira nodded, heaving a deep sigh as a heavy silence took over the table. Finally, she looked up, directly at Kepi seated across from her.

“Kepi, I…I know that this is a lot to ask of you, and, of course, you don’t have to agree, but…until Rasmus recovers, would you consider ruling in his place?”

It was too good to be true, and Kepi almost felt as though she must’ve misheard Mira, had she not glanced towards Thain at her side, and seen the delight hidden in his eyes.

She hardly had to fake the way that she opened and closed her mouth several times before responding, her expression falling into a mild, almost amused smirk, her eyes crinkling, appearing the very definition of humble and slightly confused.

“Me? Well, I…I would be happy to help in any way that I can, of course. I wouldn’t know the first thing about ruling a kingdom, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps I can help? In my travels I’ve…assisted clan leaders, and have been able to closely observe their triumphs and mistakes…I’m sure that I could offer you some worthwhile advice,” Thain chimed in, right on cue, sounding almost hesitant; Kepi silently commended them both for their acting skills.

“And, of course, Ameria and I will advise you as well,” Mira added, referring to the king’s assistant and other advisor. “Trust me, Kepi, you have a good head on your shoulders, a strong will, you’ll do just fine…I wouldn’t of asked you if you weren’t the right dragon for the job.”

(“We never could of planned for how impossibly easy that was,” Thain would delight over what had happened later, when it was just the two of them. “It’s practically as though they couldn’t wait to have someone other than your brother as ruler.”)

And she did do just fine; more than fine, in fact, she thrived, falling so easily into the role of clan leader.

She does her brother’s job from a table set up in the throne room; the throne itself sits untouched, waiting for its rightful owner to return. Kepi stares at it every day, eyes narrowed, and thinks soon.

Soon comes three weeks and two days after the king’s collapse, in the form of Mira heaving a great sigh as they sat at the table in the throne room.

“We need to make it official,” She says, sounding thoroughly disappointed.

“What’s that?” Kepi asks, not looking up from the parchment in front of her, detailing the past week’s comings and goings in the marketplace.

“This. You. I…Rasmus may very well wake up at any time, but he may very well not, too. Roava is a burgeoning young kingdom, it can’t go on forever with no official ruler that isn’t currently unconscious. Being a ruler is more than just making decisions, it’s also being someone that the subjects of the kingdom can look up to, can respect…so long as we have you here, titleless and hiding behind a table, Roava will continue to not be the best it could be.”

Mira sounded uncomfortable at best as her words tumbled out, quite obviously afraid of offending Kepi, of seeming disrespectful towards Rasmus.

Kepi, for her part, kept her reaction restrained to a small, almost sad smile, her tone quite melancholy, while just beneath the surface she wore a toothy grin, something inside of her exhaling finally.

“I couldn’t agree more, Mira. Perhaps…perhaps some sort of small ceremony would be called for? And, of course, we’ll make it clear that the moment my brother wakes, I will relinquish the crown back to him.”

The Guardian exhaled at Kepi’s words, glad that she hadn’t stepped over a line, and nodded agreeably.

Five days later, what was meant to be a “small ceremony” turned into a rather larger gathering, with what felt to be half the clan stuffed into the throne room. For those that were there for Rasmus’ coronation, it was clear how much the clan had grown, so many new faces present; some, despite the solemn reason for the event, looked positively excited.

(Noticeably absent from the event were Cord and Arys; both had scarcely left their respective posts for the last month. Cord insisted that he be there when, when, when Rasmus woke, and Arys…Arys had sworn himself to the king, had promised to protect the king until his dying breath, and he did not take his oath lightly; besides Ravi, Thain, and Cord, he allowed no others into the king’s room, fiercely protective to a fault.)

Rasmus’ crown sat on his bedside table, waiting for him, and both Kepi and Mira - and Thain - had agreed that it would possibly not be taken kindly were Kepi to take his crown, even temporarily.

(Privately, Thain had sneered at the mere thought. “That…thing is no proper crown, no, you must have a real crown, something much more fitting for a queen.”)

Mira had taken care of designing and obtaining of the crown, much in the same way she had taken care of Rasmus’, and just as before, it was perfect.

Quietly elegant, the gilded circlet rose into curled spikes on the front, back, and sides, a simple filigree running along the edges; rubies, opals, and garnets were interspersed around the whole thing, in just enough of a quantity to scream royalty.

Just as before, Mira also took charge of the ceremony, her voice ringing out across the crowd, stood next to Kepi, who stood directly in front of the throne. Mira’s words were the same as the first time, though this time they were laced with a certain sort of hesitance; she silently hoped, prayed, that she would not have to do this again for a long, long time.

Finally, the Guardian moved to stand behind the throne, standing at twice its size as she slowly, with an air of finality, lowered Kepi’s crown upon her head.

“I present to those gathered, and to the kingdom at large, Kepi, First of Her Name, Queen of Roava!”

With that, Kepi lowered herself onto the throne, her back straight and looking positively regal. The applause from a majority of the crowd was unexpected, and her heart soared.

Upstairs, the brother lay still, king no more. Downstairs, the sister sat upon his throne, a queen in every sense of the word.

(The voices in her head still warred on, quiet and subtle in their fighting, yet no sign of her inner turmoil emerged on the outside.

Somewhere, though, deep down, she knew that she couldn’t keep her emotions buried forever, as hard as she would try.

The only question was if she would be able to keep them quiet long enough to stand by and watch her brother die.)

-

*500 years later* and there we go! it’s not my best but it’s not my worst either?? i’m beyond caring it took me much too long to get this part written and i just want it out there! now, in-between this and the next part, I may write some little oneshots that wouldn’t really have a place in the main story, but are still part of the story as a whole, but we’ll see how my writing flows I suppose lol.