#thain

Mira was born into a noble Maren family, to a very well respected king and queen. From the start, she was afforded the best education, covering a wide range of topics, even those not related to her people, and when she wasn’t taking her lessons, she was observing her father in his kingly duties. When she made the decision to leave her parents’ kingdom under the sea, she spent quite a while traveling around Sornieth, educating herself further in every way she could. Then, after she had found a home in Roava, she had served as the king’s primary advisor, and, if she said so herself, had done a very fine job of counseling him.

So, when Thain, the healer, the new queen’s friend, came in with his sneers and scoffs at her guidance and input, with his constant arguments and his know-it all-attitude, Mira couldn’t help but find herself just a tad bit homicidal.

Despite such urges, she liked to think of herself as level-headed, within reason. Sure, she was strong enough to put most dragons in their place with a little bit of force, but she had been taught that it was always best to at least attempt to talk things out first.

Which she had been trying to do. For the past two months. Every time Thain disagreed with what she had to say, she tried to explain to him the sense in her ideas, all the while gritting her teeth that she had to explain herself at all. Things began to escalate, though, more and more as the weeks went on, until not a day could go by without at least one venomous exchange of words between the two.

Things with Rasmus had been different. He was no puppet, and she no puppetmaster, but he had understood that when it came to running a kingdom, she had the knowledge that he needed. Of course, there had been times when he had disagreed with what she had to say, had gone against her advice, and that was fine; she was there to advise, to offer guidance, not to argue him into submission.

At first, she had thought that being Kepi’s advisor would be much the same - she knew the new queen, considered her almost family, and had thought that the respect she felt towards her went both ways.

And perhaps it did, but one wouldn’t quite know it by the way that Kepi often kept quiet as Mira and Thain argued and sniped at each other, the once tranquil throne room feeling more and more like a battleground.

(There were times, few and far between, when the queen would finally intervene, snapping at Thain to stop, to let Mira speak her piece. Those were small victories, tainted by the glares between Kepi and Thain that would follow, causing Mira to wonder, not for the first time, just who was in charge.

Mira rarely had moments alone with Kepi, and when she did, those thoughts were always on the tip of her tongue, questions of if there was something the new queen needed to tell her, if there was anything she needed to know about the mysterious iceborn healer. Something always stopped her from voicing such questions, though; someone interrupting, or the need to discuss important matters regarding the kingdom. Months later, perhaps, she would wonder what might’ve happened had she not been so damn hesitant.)

Things came to a head just over three months after Rasmus had fallen into his coma, two months since Kepi’s coronation. They had been gathered at the small, round table that often sat in the middle of the throne room, parchment spread out as they went over any issues that needed attending to; Thain and Mira sat across from each other, on either side of Kepi, while Ameria, the queen’s assistant and occasional advisor, sat across from her.

Thain had shown up only a few minutes prior, and while Mira attempted to focus on what she was reading, she could just tell that Thain was gearing up to say something, something that she knew she wouldn’t like. His brow was furrowed, his lip twitching as though he wanted to smirk, but knew that he shouldn’t; both things she had come to recognize as meaning something vile was about to spill from his mouth.

She could not of predicted just what he was going to say, though, and had she been able to, she very well might of punched him in his face before he could even say a word, consequences be damned.

“I’ve just come from checking on your brother, Kepi,” He began with no preamble, leaning forward. The queen, busy with reading the parchment in her hand, looked up, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“And how is he doing today? Any changes?”

While Ravi, the king’s son, was his father’s primary healer, Thain often checked in to see how he might be able to help.

“I’m afraid not, no, though he remains stable.” The queen “hmmed” in response, her attention already returning to other matters.

“I have been thinking, though,” The healer continued after a brief pause, and Mira braced herself for whatever Thain had been thinking about. “And I believe that perhaps I should take over his care.”

Mira froze, Thain’s words taking a few long moments to properly register in her mind, and even then, she was sure she must have misheard him; she was even more sure that she must have also misheard Kepi’s response.

“That sounds fine to me, so long as it won’t interfere with your duties here.”

The conversation continued, but it was a quiet buzz in Mira’s ears, a dull roar overtaking her thoughts until she finally interrupted with a very quiet:

“What?”

All eyes turned to her, but her own gaze was locked onto Thain, as he narrowed his eyes at her, sensing a challenge.

“Is something the matter, Mira?” He prodded, feigning innocent curiosity.

“You…you can’t just…what about Ravi?”

“What about him?”

““What about him?” He’s already caring for the king, why would you need to take over?” Thain had the gall to roll his eyes and Mira had to grip the table with both hands to prevent herself from lunging at him.

“He’s much too close to the whole situation. If we have any hope of ever finding a way to wake up our queen’s poor brother, it won’t be through him. He’s so…emotional. It’s clouding his judgement, and I simply don’t think that-”

The healer was cut off by hands slapping roughly against the table as Mira stood, towering above them all, the wood nearly splintering beneath her hands. She was an imposing sight, and she knew it.

“That’s enough,” She practically snarled, her eyes swirling whirlpools of rage. “I’ve sat here for two long months and listened to you argue with me at every turn, give horrible advice, and just be an all around terrible presence, but I will not sit by and let you speak that way about Ravi.”

Ravi was family, her mate’s brother, a shining light among them before all of the stress of his father’s sudden illness came crashing down upon him.

(She often looked at Ravi and saw the little brother she left behind at home, sweet and loving and entirely too empathetic.)

Mira could let most arguments between her and Thain lie, had grown increasingly numb towards her advisor related duties, but this was different, this was Ravi, and the odds of her shoving her trident through the healer’s chest in the near future had just increased tenfold.

“Of course he’s emotional, it’s his father, but if you think for one moment that he would allow his emotions to cloud his judgement or get in the way of finding some sort of cure, then you’re an even bigger fool than I previously thought.”

Thain stood as well, a cold fury burning in his eyes, and oh how Mira wished for him to give her a reason, an actual, plausible reason for her to attack him in this moment. If he struck first, nobody would be able to quite blame her for whatever may happen next.

“How dare you, you will regret-”

“Stop,” The queen hissed, standing as well, clearly sensing just how close Mira was to leaping across the table. “Stop it, the both of you. I will not have any more fighting between you two. Thain, sit down.”

As the Nocturne begrudgingly did as she said, Kepi turned her gaze to Mira, softening slightly. Mira was coming to realize just how good of an actor the queen was, knowing that the way that her face turned sympathetic, her tone grew quiet, was all just an act. A good one, but not one that Mira was going to fall for any longer

“Mira, I know that it’s difficult to hear, but I trust Thain in this. If he says that Ravi is no longer fit, then I wish only to relieve Ravi of at least some of his stress, and for Rasmus’ situation to receive the best possible attention.”

Mira couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she was quick to make that clear.

“If you seriously believe that he will do any better than Ravi, Ravi who is doing everything in his power to bring Rasmus back to us, then perhaps you’re a fool as well.”

(Mira realized in that moment that perhaps not all of the anger that she’d been feeling had been because of Thain.)

Kepi’s face instantly darkened, hardening as she straightened up, any trace of sensitivity gone as she spoke.

“Get out of my throne room. Now.”

Later, maybe Mira would regret her words, falling too quickly from her mouth before she could filter herself, but for now she simply gave a mirthless laugh.

“Gladly,” She spat, knocking her chair to the ground as she turned and stormed out of the room.

All the while, Ameria stayed silent in her seat, the normally talkative Spiral deciding it best to stay out of everything. It’s not that she didn’t agree with Mira in every way, no, she just had a different way of going about things.

Because she, too, had seen the secretive glances that Thain and Kepi occasionally shared, had caught snippets of the verging on threatening way that he sometimes spoke to the queen, and it worried her.

She stayed quiet, bit her tongue more times than not, because she was afraid of Thain, of whatever his intentions were, but she was even more afraid of leaving him alone with Kepi. If she were to leave, or to be kicked out as Mira had been, he would be the only voice left whispering in the queen’s ear.

And Ameria, caring to a fault, refused to let that happen. She wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted the new queen yet, despite all of the good that she’d been doing for the kingdom, but that didn’t mean that she was going to leave her all alone with one of the most loathsome dragons that Ameria had ever met.

And so she would endure Thain’s cold glares, as though he was wishing her away, too, and she would not allow him to bait her into inane arguments, using her charm and quick wit to remain on Kepi’s good side. For the sake of the kingdom, but for the sake of the queen, as well.

-

I really liked this when I wrote it last night at 3 in the morning, but now I’m like??? It really got away from me there at the end, but oh well, it serves it’s intended purpose, which is to be a brief interlude between actual “official” parts of the main story.

There may or may not be one or two more things like this before the “actual” story keeps going (in quotation marks because, I mean, this is part of the story, it just doesn’t overly progress things along, other than giving some insight into some things, as well as getting Mira out of the throne room and Ravi away from his father), but we’ll see! I really just want to get to the rest of the story because it’s been sitting in my head for so long.

Mira is channeling all of you guys that fuckin hate Thain too lololol she’d like to hand out tridents to all of you :’D

“You’re like most Tooks,” his mother had told him one night, sitting next to his bed after he had confided in her about his strange desire to just go. “But it is stronger in you than most.”

“I want to go somewhere, but I don’t know where to go…? Is this normal?”

“Oh Bilbo,” Belladonna smiled, reaching out to tuck his curls behind his ear. “We all feel that way. I didn’t know where I was going, the first time I left my home to go on an adventure. I just let my feet bring me to wherever they wanted to go. And it brought me to your father. Wanderlust is not something we understand, it’s something we do.”

Living as a gentlehobbit, learning the ways of a Baggins and a Took had taken up most of his childhood, as well as learning how to defend himself and attack when need be, and Bilbo didn’t have time to let the wanderlust control him. His parents were his world, his studies were his life, the wanderlust took a back seat in these early days, quiet and steady, humming slowly beneath the surface of his skin, never breaking out to make him just want to up and go, but always there, close enough for Bilbo to feel it dancing in his soul.

When they left, going back to the lands of the Green Lady, from where they had first come from, Bilbo tried to tell himself that it was just wanderlust. That the wanderlust had taken them, that his parents had just wanted to go, somewhere, anywhere, and they had left on an adventure. It was just an adventure that they wouldn’t come back from.

But without them, without his two most important people holding him back, the wanderlust came back. It always sat at the back of his mind, when he went to the market to shop, when he went to parties, when he stopped that irritating Lobelia from taking his silverware, when he hosted his own parties.

His feet tingled and his ears twitched.

He wanted to run with the wind.

And so, with a haphazard decision after one too many bottles of ale, Bilbo packed up some of his essentials, slung his bow (not really his, it had been his mother’s but she had left it to him) across his back and strapped his daggers (not really his either, imagine both Bilbo and Belladonna’s shock when they found out Bungo’s secret daggers hidden in the pockets of his pants whenever they went out of Hobbiton – Bungo had laughed and claimed that Belladonna had changed him for the better, and he had wanted to at least learn a weapon of his own to keep up with his precious people) to his legs, and left.

Of course, he told the Gamgees next door to take care of his garden and inform the Thain of his adventure, and prevent Lobelia Sackville-Baggins from attempting to not only take Bilbo’s silverware, but also full ownership of Bag End. It was a simple affair to pack up and press the keys to his house (and his parent’s house before that, the house of respectable Bungo Baggins and the mad but still relatively respectable Belladonna Baggins who had once been a Took) in the open palm of Hamfast Gamgee.

He set off with a smile on his face, feet tracing the path of the wind and following the footsteps of his mother. Belladonna had once spoken of adventures, large and small, following her own wanderlust or being pushed on a journey by a mysterious wizard with long white hair (“He’s old, Bilbo, older than the Thain himself, I would think. His beard is immense!” “Is it really? Is he really that old?” “Of course he is, do you think your mother would lie to you?” “But he plays with fireworks!” “He can do a lot more than play with fireworks.”).

Belladonna had told him the story of The Last Homely House East of the Sea, and Bilbo wanted to see it for himself. But the trek from Hobbiton to Rivendell was a long and tiring one, and Bilbo decided to take random breaks here and then.

And in those random breaks, he somehow managed to amass quite a number of odd jobs.

---

Bilbo had been a gentlehobbit all his life, and he was terrible at farming. Oh, he was as good as the next gentlehobbit, which was to say, not at all, and he paled in comparison to Hamfast Gamgee.

When he stopped over at a village of hobbits – it had been a surprise to find them, the tiny village wasn’t on the map, nor had anyone ever informed anyone of the village – he was temporarily adopted into a family of hobbits who were brilliant farmers. Bilbo was sorry to say that he hadn’t been able to ration his food properly, and by the time he had reached this small village, he was running thin on food.

Hobbits were nice people, very respectable and hospitable, but Bilbo didn’t want to be a free loader and take advantage of these good people’s kindness, so he made himself useful and learnt how to farm.

On odd days, he worked the plots, planting seeds and tilling the land and watering the plants. He learnt how to use a sickle, how to use an axe – sometimes, when a farm was left alone long enough, it would become overrun with foliage, and logs were one irritating thing that kept reappearing. Chopping them up into wood made a lot of sense, and Bilbo finally understood why Hamfast always insisted on taking the logs away and not just dumping them in the river to be washed away down the current.

On even days, he learnt secret cooking recipes for food that could be found on the road. Bilbo secretly suspected that the hobbits living here were relatives of the Tooks – it explained why they were so keen on adventures, and knew so much about living on the road. Bilbo learnt which plants could be eaten, which couldn’t, which could be used to treat wounds, and which were poisonous (even if they didn’t look it), and the meanings of rarer flowers found on the roads. 

Hobbits were usually very secretive of their recipes (they were secrets, family secrets and heritage passed on down their bloodlines and they were sacred, sacred things that were as important as one’s life) but they were willing to share with Bilbo, share with him all their knowledge and their secret recipes and everything. It was stranger than strange, but the hobbits had assured Bilbo that it didn’t mean anything, and most definitely not in that sense.

And if Bilbo helped them with their expenses, taught them the finer arts of trading, how to manage finances and made sure that they earned more than they were spending, Bilbo didn’t mind. They had helped him, and Bilbo would help them back. Some hobbits didn’t know how to write or read, if that could even be believed! Bilbo took it upon himself to adequately educate every last hobbit in that small village.

It was with that whirlwind of activities that Bilbo became the makeshift Thain of the village. He hadn’t wanted to be a Thain, any Thain, at that. He had intended for Fortinbras to take over the position of Thain even back in the Shire, and that seemed proof enough that Bilbo really disliked positions of authority!

“But you help all of us, Mister Bilbo!” Little Olly insisted, nodding her head furiously. “You’re real nice, and you teach us our letters, and you help Ma and Da with their money, and isn’t that what a Thain does?”

“B-But surely, you wouldn’t want a stranger to be your Thain!” Bilbo cried out in a flustered manner. “I’ve only been here for two months, that’s-”

“That’s enough to be a Thain,” Olly’s mother replied, eyes twinkling as she hustled Olly off to take a bath. “Two months is enough for us to accept you, Mr Baggins, we’ve accepted others for less. You’re already one of us. It’s an unofficial title, of course, seeing as we don’t really need a Thain, but it’d be our little gift to you, as thanks for you helping us with so many things.”

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.