ruinations | adsom: reunions

"Perhaps."

Though given what they'd been through, the divinity thrust upon them, even if Neria had sought it out... the rules weren't always what they seemed to be. Though there were parallels between worlds, that worked differently.

Kell's fingers curled around hers, squeezing.

"I know that, but others will not. And you know as well as I do that people do not need a reason to fear something powerful, only a lack of understanding."

Giving Neria a level look, Kell pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Faro and Vesk have citizens who legitimately believe that I can and do dictate the sun rising and setting on Arnes. You would be a target and a prize; your alignment and disposition significant."

Tilting his head, Kell nodded to the stone wall, in the vague direction of the Isle.

"The King's concern is not just for you; the Essen Tasch is about to begin. The Games are meant to be a symbol of friendship between our lands, but it's no secret that our peace is not entirely solid. The house of Maresh does not want war, and our strength is the stopgap. But it is not absolute."

Kell wet his lip, then turned back to look at Neria, as more than her friend and ally. As a protector of his Kingdom.

"The city is flooded with strangers and foreign royals. They are staying in the palace, and will undoubtedly, immediately take an interest in you. This is partially why the King and Queen are concerned."

Squeezing Neria's hand, he shook his head.

"Rhy and I will be there for you. But I want you to be aware."

Neria's brow furrowed. Her expression was an uncertain one. "But...a prize of what? I'm not a native of Red London and I won't be here long. Do you really think they would be able to sense all that I am?" The protests quieted as she listened, shaking her head faintly as she tried to reason and understand it.

Her lips pulled down into a deep frown. Her thumb brushed over his hand, more out of the need to fidget than to offer comfort.

Softly, she asked, "Would it be better if I stayed here in the Sanctuary? Or...that I should try to go back tonight or tomorrow? I don't want to make this more difficult for the King and Queen or for your home-- And you need to have your eyes open. You can't be concerned over where I am and what I'm doing."

"Not all, and not in any detail, certainly. But you feel..." Kell trailed off, his brow pinching. "Something in your power has the echo of mine and Rhy's. It's far from the same," he added, quickly, "but it gives you the taste of an Antari. And Antari are certainly prizes."

Not for the first time, he wondered if he was scaring her needlessly, building her up for something that would not happen -- but then he remembered Lord Sol-in-Ar's eyes on him, and shook off the lingering feeling of disgust.

"I don't- mean to alarm you. I do not think it will be so dire a situation, and certainly nothing like Asora."

Nothing like Asora. Something folded in on itself in her chest. Neria was silent, letting it sit there, and weighed his words. Slowly, she nodded. "I understand." She would be seen as powerful and useful, no matter how she might try to hide it. Even staying in the Sanctuary would not offer much in the way of solace. So long as no one meant her harm, someone could still come looking.

"What else should I know, so I don't blunder ahead and make things difficult for you and your city?"

"I do not think you would blunder," Kell answered, honest, and only belatedly realized what he'd made it sound like. With a rough sigh, he shut his eyes, shook his head. None of this was coming out right.

"People may- to treat you differently," he said softly, thinking of Rhy, thinking of the fear in the guards' faces when he turned his dark eye on them for the first time. How clearly he'd felt the twinges of pain and shock.

"Not badly," Kell was quick to add. "But differently."

Neria listened, parsing through what Kell did not quite say. Differently, not badly. But there was something derogatory in the way he said prize. Kell had lived his life in a unique way that Neria had not completely understood. He was seen as brother to the prince but not related; he was protector and Antari. Useful, marked. Blessed or cursed. Aven.

"I don't know your culture. What I did tonight could have very easily gotten me into a great deal of trouble. I don't...want my actions to reflect poorly on you, Kell, nor do I want to give the wrong impression to the people who matter." The King and Queen, the potential allies they were trying to secure.

"What do I need to know for tomorrow, so I can act accordingly?"

"No," Kell shook his head. "I don't believe you would have attacked anyone unless you were defending yourself. Even then-"

... she would have been detained.

Kell's mouth was suddenly dry. That had not gone well for her last time, even with Kell in a position of power, capable of having her released. It took a few moments for the full impact of that to sink in, and Kell squeezed her hand, holding it between both of his.

"I trust you to conduct yourself. Answer them honestly, as best you can, even if you know they will not like the answer."

She wasn't quite certain what he would have said. But by the way Kell squeezes her hand, she at least understood it was not something he wanted to contemplate. Neria's fingers threaded with the one clasped over hers; her other hand pressed over his, trying to reassure him.

"I'll be honest, I promise." What might come after was what frightened her, and it was an icy lance up her spine - very quietly mirrored for Kell. "How...much do you want them to know about Asora, if they ask me? About what we have seen?"

"Answer what they ask. I've told them an overview, but Tieren knows the whole story. They may ask you to corroborate parts of what I've said, or-"

Kell pressed his lips together.

"Be truthful, even if it does not show me in the best light. They know what happened, but may be checking your story against mine."

Neria's frown grew somewhat. She would, of course, act in the best interest of his world...but it felt a little like betrayal. She'd been loyal to Kell first.

"Won't that get you in trouble?" she asked. And, worse, that they were Rhy's parents... Did they blame Kell for what had happened? Did they think it was his fault that Rhy came back changed, came back as an Other? "Can they sense what is true and what is false? Not...that I would lie. I know better than to do that. But if they can sense such a thing, I'd like to know."

“Highly unlikely. Tieren was placed in charge of reviewing our stories, and given the… circumstances-“

The lengths he’d gone to. Accepted enslavement to avoid fighting a war on behalf of another crown. Inadvertently freeing both Rhy and himself from slavery. Brought them home. Ensuring Rhy remained alive, even at the expense of his own life.

“I was ruled to have acted as the crown required.”

With Rhy’s own testimony weighed in, he’d performed his duties to the letter. To lengths to be commended. It was not praise that had sat comfortably, and it showed in Kell’s eyes even if he did not explain aloud.

Kell considered her next question carefully, silent longer than a few seconds, then shook his head.

“Not that I know of – but they are both rulers and parents.”

She heard what Kell did not say. There had been so much sacrifice. Kell had submitted to slavery, allowed himself to die because he would not give Rhy up. If anything, shouldn't they be proud of him?

Slowly, Neria slid closer to him until she was a solid weight against his side. She looped her arm around his and leaned against his shoulder. "And you did," she whispered, reminding him, for she often feared Kell lost parts of himself to his duty. He loved deeply and painfully, as she did, and he was fierce in his protection. He had done everything.

"Rulers are more suspicious of others than they are clairvoyant," she murmured. "And parents... I can't speak to that. Sometimes, they miss important things." Neria's gaze was briefly hard. "But they will be protective and concerned. I understand."

The easy hugs had mostly ever only come from Rhy, but Kell hadn't realized how much he'd missed hers until he'd thought they would not touch again. She felt like a warmth that threatened to have him melting.

Kell didn't let go of himself, but he did relax marginally, a shiver of nerves under her touch before he braced himself, becoming something more comfortable to lean into and against. He wrapped his arm around her back.

Sometimes they miss important things.

"They will be," Kell confirmed, but didn't explain that their protective concern would be for Arnes, and for Rhy, far before it would ever be for Kell himself. Emira saw him as invincible, and Saints only knew what Maxim thought.

Rather than get into it, sipped at his tea. It was already starting to cool.

"Do you have any other questions?"

He did not need to say they would be more concerned for Rhy. Neria knew that and said nothing of it. Kell relaxed in increments and wrapped an arm around her back, and for a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to be still.

At his question, she shook her head. "No, you've told me enough. I'll need to simply allow the rest of it to happen." And she would need to trust that the King and Queen were not similar to the last king they had confronted. She believed Kell and put her faith in him implicitly; if he said it would be all right, then it would be. The rest was nerves and unpredictability.

Reluctantly, she stopped leaning so much so she could sip at her tea.

"How is Rhy?" she asked softly.

Kell genuinely believed it wouldn't be as bad as Neria feared it might. Deliberately, he tried to project some of that faith, in the hopes that it would siphon away some of the anxiety. His parents could be harsh, yes, but they were only human, and they weren't bad people.

As the conversation turned to Rhy, however, she'd feel the worry settle over Kell like a weary blanket.

"Healing," he answered. "But slowly." Kell cut off, trapped his tongue between his teeth before going on. "Learning the power he carries, and how to use it. But he..."

Kell paused again, here. "I don't think he was prepared for how people would react to his eye."

It helped a bit, staunching some of the deeper wounds the anxiety reopened. Neria loosed her tension in increments, reminding herself that things were not the same here. Kell knew his world, knew the monarchs, and that was enough to faintly soothe her.

Neria fixed her attention on what he told her of Rhy, her expression saddened. Rhy had been gentle, open, smiling before his death and even after. But Asora took from people and it had taken some of that wide-eyed wonderment from him. She could not imagine how it must have felt to return to a world where people loved him, where people knew him, and to see the shock and horror as they saw him forever changed.

"Do they still...look on him as if he is Rhy? Or do people look at him the way they look at you?"

Kell, she surmised, had always been different. It wasn't the eye that concerned her. What she was really asking was if they looked at Rhy as useful and powerful now instead, or if they continued to love him because he was Rhy.

"He's always been apart from others. He is a prince."

Kell's sadness echoed Neria's. "But he put so much into bridging that gap, into making people comfortable with him, into being beloved by our people. He's the typical spoiled royal, yes, but he's also generous, kind, and genuine.

"So many people play at that, but for Rhy, it's the way he is. He's never liked barriers or holding himself apart. Now... he's something almost other than a person. Holy. And it's written on his face."

Kell pressed his lips together. "It is different for him than it is for me. People still see him, yes, but... it will take time for them to look past the eye, and what they've been taught it means."

"And now it feels like all that work has come crumbling down because of a much more visible mark of what he's become. Even simply...having that power would have been a marker but this is more obvious." She held Kell close for a moment, resting there and sitting with the worry he had, the sadness, the love he held for Rhy.

Softly, she sighed. "I'm sorry this has happened to him and to you." Apologies would not bring back their safety and security. It would not bring either of them back to life or free them from their godhood. "He's worked so hard."

And Kell was right: Rhy was genuine in his care, in his love and his kindness. For that love to pale in comparison to the power they would see first-- It didn't seem right. "Do you think he'll see me?"

I'm sorry this happened, she said, and Kell shook his head, because there was no changing it, and despite the pain, it solved more problems than it created. It was sad, yes, but it was.

Rhy had always wanted the power to serve his country, and Kell had always wanted him safe. In a twisted way they'd both gotten their wish.

"I can't think of why he wouldn't want to," he said honestly. "He would be more likely to think you would rather not see him."

"Rhy didn't hurt me," she murmured softly, and knew the words would sting. She leaned closer into Kell to remind him of what she said earlier. "He wasn't responsible for what happened."

Neither were you, she whispered beneath that, tucked away as she was deep within him, wound up in who he was, as she had let him do the same for her. They made the choice to do what they did. Kell hurt her in his silence, when he did not share what had happened. But she knew Kell to shoulder responsibility, to be the protector, the shield that tried to deflect all harm at the cost to himself.

That time, others had paid the cost.

"I would be glad to see him," she said quietly. "But - and no offense to Rhy; you know I adore him - it will not be as glad as I was to see you today."

Wasn't responsible, perhaps, but maybe--

Again, Kell fell down the mineshaft of what-ifs, the walkbacks, the second-guessing. If only he'd been stronger. If only he'd asked more questions. If only he'd been more aware, hadn't accepted the idea that she was dead simply because she was silent.

It wasn't fair, of course; the path Kell and Rhy had taken had allowed them to save countless lives in the attack, and to ensure the freedom of all the prisoners even if it had come with costly delay.

But for too many, they hadn't come soon enough.

Now was far from the time for regrets, for revisiting old guilt. Now, there was nothing to be done. But with the wounds still fresh, he appreciated the way Neria leaned into him. Her warmth against his side was more than just a reassurance, and her admission was no small comfort.

"And you," Kell said softly, his voice faltering at the edges, faintly overwhelmed. He gave her a squeeze, then shifted on the bed, downing the last of his tea.

"... we should try to sleep."

His silence said enough. Neria sat with Kell and the hurt until he spoke again, and she leaned into the brief squeeze he provided. But as he parted and said they should sleep, she took a better glance at the bed and noted its size. It was a simple cot, enough for her, but--

Was he going to stay the night here with her? Neria cast her gaze around, down at the floor, frowning. She drank her tea in the quiet for a moment.

Then, she murmured, "I don't know if we're both going to fit, if you're planning to stay."

Kell's brow twitched, and he glanced at the cot, following her gaze. Though he and Hakkyuu had managed to fit in the one in their tent (only on certain occassions, and only by practically sleeping on each other) this one was a bit more narrow.

"I can fetch a spare," he assured her, shifting, then making to get up. He seemed utterly unconcerned with the conventions of who might see.

Then again, this wasn't a church, exactly.

He'd been planning to stay after all. It shouldn't have surprised her like it did, she knew, and as he started to rise, Neria reached out and took Kell by the arm. "No, it's all right." Her gaze went to the cot again and she nudged off her boots with care. "It's all right, Kell. We'll make it work."

After all, she could make herself much smaller if they really couldn't fit.

Neria finished her tea and rose to put the mug off to the side, where it wouldn't be tripped over in the middle of the night. And then she returned to the one side of the cot, nudging him a little with her arm. "Lay down."

Kell stilled at the touch, surprised, but let her pull him back, sinking down onto the cot, then removing his own boots. They were fine and soft, without the stains of travel, and all the more he felt the difference.

He took off his coat, easing it down from his shoulders, then settled down alongside her. They had to be very close to make this work, and it took a moment to make sense of where his arms and legs should be, and then to ease her in against his chest.

Beneath it all his heart still beat.

"All right?"

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