ruinations | adsom: reunions

adsom: reunions

Too much. It was too much.

Neria had slipped into the dark with incredible ease, buried herself in it so she could escape from her trial and from everything else. She jumped through the layers of the world - the dark, the fissures of other realms, a deeper dark she had no name for - and as she went, the world seemed to simply shimmer away. Neria fell through the layers of the realms and Cassian screamed for her. Rather than fight, she simply allowed herself to fall away from the world.

And as she came back out, she stepped from the shadows of an alley, breathless, leaning against the stone. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom as if she'd gone from dusk to twilight and she waited there a moment, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes until she saw dancing spots. Her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

Cassian whispered to her, cajoling, and she finally came back to herself.

And she was not in Emorr.

The street was unfamiliar. As she stretched her senses through the shadows, she realized that...nothing was familiar here. She'd come out elsewhere in her fit and Neria moved from the alley to quickly begin exploring, keeping to the shadows cautiously.

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Neria's gaze remained on Kell's for longer than a second set of heartbeats, uncertain, as if she was looking for something in his face that wasn't there. Her attention was drawn from him by Calla, who presented her with beautiful clothes that took her breath away. In the years after the Blight, Neria had more coin than she ever had in her life, and she'd never spent it on things like clothes. Armor, weapons, patches for the Keep. Salaries, investments, the occasional under-the-table bribe when she needed information. The armor she wore was enough. She hadn't worn dresses or anything so elegant since--

Since Sheatris. Since the masquerade and the officer's dinner. Or the nights after Ardismouth fell.

But these were something else entirely. The fabric was soft and lush in its beauty, and Neria looked almost a little too wide-eyed as Calla encouraged her to go try them on. She spent several moments simply touching them, looking them over. Like Kell's coat, they were rich and lovely. Unique. With care, she tried them on, folding the clothes she wore and setting them aside. After several minutes, she came out from behind the curtain, pulling her braid over one shoulder. She marveled at the way the tunic looked on her. Everything fit well and she felt as if she'd been given the raiment of a noble for all of its trappings. "How does it look?" she asked quietly, though she was already looking for a mirror.

As Neria disappeared behind the curtain, Calla's dark eyes met Kell's across a rack of clothes, searching, assessing, and Kell couldn't quite meet them.

There were no battlefields in Arnes, and there hadn't been since the King had been a young man. Calla knew this; and knew Kell could touch other worlds, places most of London knew precious little of. The look became thoughtful, and then she turned back to her work, selecting more items to put aside.

"Anesh," she said happily as Neria reappeared, putting down the cloth in her arms to go to Neria's side, making an adjustment here, there -- the whisper of magic flowed against her skin, brushing like a cat. The clothes, when she stepped back, fit Neria even better. She smiled warmly and indicated the full-length looking glass nearby.

Kell, meanwhile, was wide-eyed and quiet. A dusting of pink had appeared across his cheeks. After a moment he seemed to realized Neria had asked a question.

"Good," he answered, straightening, looking her over again, eyes flickering back up to her face.

"... very good."

Before he could embarrass himself further, Calla brought the clothes she'd selected to Neria to try on. More tunics and pants -- but a dark overcoat with blue patterning showing through -- slippers and a soft bronze gown.

The last was lovely but not particularly remarkable in this light. It wasn't until one moved the cloth nearer to candlelight that the bronze seemed to warm like bits of sunrise. Even more remarkable was when one shifted the skirts, showing the layers meant to peek through when the wearer moved or walked. They were a deep midnight blue, soft dusky indigo, shot through with bits of winking gold.

Edited 2018-09-18 04:14 (UTC)

The magic licked over her skin pleasantly and she shivered only once, delighted at the freedom there was in being touched by magic that was natural to these people, that was common and beloved. It still baffled her. She adjusted the tunic somewhat as Calla worked and, for a moment, she looked at herself in the mirror. Symon's blue and her strange silver eyes had changed back to what they once were, perhaps a sign that her connection to Asora and Emorr had grown weaker, its hold tentative. The person she saw in the mirror looked healthier, stronger, than she'd seen in weeks - though she knew she had also avoided mirrors since the fight in Aallotar, for more than one reason.

Briefly, she looked back at Kell from the mirror, and she gave him a warm smile at his approval.

Calla brought other clothes which she tried on, one by one, letting her fit them to Neria's specifications. They flattered her form very well, each and every one, and she did not know how to thank her.

The gown was the last to be tried on. It took Neria some time to step out from behind the curtain, so enamored was she with the material, the color, and the way it looked when she moved. Further still, she did not know what she would look like, and she hesitated.

But in the mirror, she looked...different. The tops of her shoulders and back were visible here, enough that she could see the top of the scars that ran down her back, and the whorls of the brand on her left shoulder. The person that stared back at her, even with her hair up, small strands askew from the various clothing changes, she looked foreign and strange. She appeared regal, as if she was someone important. The gown flattered her figure, even the places where she was still too thin, and the bronze accentuated her skin color in ways that hid the lingering paleness that was nearly gone.

She was silent, looking at herself, looking at this stranger. The gown made her feel...beautiful and worthy in ways she had not felt in months. Her throat tightened and kept her unable to say anything. But when she recovered, she turned to Calla. Her smile was heartfelt, if sad. "This is... I don't know what to say. It's perfect." It was a far greater gift than she deserved or could ever repay, just to look at herself in the mirror and to see this. "Thank you."

Kell was experienced in standing to one side, being patient while he companion tried on clothes -- he was Rhy's brother, after all. But something about this was different. It was old hat, or routine. The look in Neria's eyes, the way she fluttered her fingers over the fabric to smooth it down, the way her gaze caught in disbelief on her own reflection-

This was more than clothes, this was... something being sewn back together, maybe even remade.

It was the last one that made his breath catch. He'd seen her scars before, but he hadn't seen these. Not the ones from the dungeons of Aallotar... the brand.

Hot, sick guilt threatened to come up his throat, and he was grateful that Neria hadn't been looking at his face while the knowledge settled. It would have hurt her more. Instead he dragged his eyes to her face, to that look of wonder in her expression, and felt his heart skip a strange, elated beat, tasting of something bittersweet.

"Then it is yours. And the others." Calla nodded, pressing Neria's hand, then moving to start boxing them up, smiling widely to herself -- and then she paused, tilting her head to one side, walking over to a shining display of small masks, hairpieces...

She plucked something small and bronze-gold and brought it back to her, laying the delicate thing in Neria's hands.

"This will go well, I think."

The mask was pressed into her hands, intricate and fragile, and she held it as if it was made of porcelain. Neria's eyes were wide as she watched Calla begin to wrap the things she had offered, and she moved to take up the blue coat and the dark trousers, for walking around the city. She couldn't very well go around in gown, after all. She looked only once to Kell, a wide-eyed and uncertain sort of expression, before she disappeared to change. She unwound the long plaited braid and pulled her hair back up into a tie that allowed it to hang down for once, rather than always pulled back so tightly.

When she emerged, wearing the first set Calla had given her, she turned to the woman. "I cannot repay you for this kindness." Kell could pay her in gold, of course, but would forever be unable to put a price on the humanity Calla restored to her. The dignity she had given back. "If there is anything I can do for you, name it, and I will do my best to see it done." It was the very least she could offer her.

As Neria stepped out to change, Kell briefly conferred with Calla, his Arnesian low and musical, difficult to make out even if one did understand it. Neria hadn't precisely refused to let Kell take care of it, and he didn't intend to ask again. But he still stepped back to suddenly become very interested in the masks when Neria came back out, giving them space.

Calla was not a young woman, in body or in spirit. She watched Neria with steady, wistful eyes as she brought back the dress after she'd changed, taking it from her to box it up, carefully folding it and drawing the charms to keep it from wrinkling or creasing.

Like before, she reached out and grasped Neria's hand, squeezing.

"So concerned with debts," she said, shaking her head. "These things will balance." She drew Neria closer by the hand, taking advantage of Kell's distance and distraction. She squeezed, then looked into Neria's eyes.

"What I would ask you," she said quietly, nodding meaningfully toward Kell. "You already intend to do."

She wasn't foolish enough to believe that Kell wouldn't pay for it. Calla had to have coin on the table and if Neria did not stay very long, then the truth was that all of her efforts would be for nothing. Kell was a king's son. He could give her the coin she needed. But she still wanted to give Calla something; she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she walked around this world without providing anything in return for her stay.

Calla took her hand and, not for the first time, Neria was surprised at how...easy it was to let her do this. She did not flinch, not from her. And even as she was tugged closer, she did not feel afraid. When Calla's glance turned to Kell, she knew she had assumed rightly. Slowly, she nodded, her gaze briefly on Kell's back. "Of course," she whispered. She squeezed Calla's hand for a moment and then straightened.

Gently, she called to Kell, as if she wasn't acutely aware how he was pretending to be distracted. "Do you need anything before we go?" she asked him, knowing she had a few boxes of her own to carry now.

Kell looked up, straightened as Neria called out to him, fingers loosening from where they'd been fixed on his sleeve, arms dropping to his side. He turned his head to the left, sifting through his mind -- or considering.

Rather than answering immediately, he instead made his way back through the displays to Calla, where she was boxing up the things.

When he asked, it was almost uncomfortable, though he didn't seem to be hiding it.

"... the debt, is it...?"

Calla shook her head, and Kell's expression settled, but his shoulders dipped. He nodded, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face.

Turning, Calla held out the boxes. Kell automatically put his arms out to accept them, balancing everything. Calla showed no real reverence for his status, loading him up like this, and a part of him deeply appreciated it. Even if he pulled a face.

"To the palace?" he asked Neria, turning his head to glance at her through his blue eye.

The debt? Her brows lifted as Kell asked, uncertain how to take that, or even if she wished to ask. Calla shook her head and Kell seemed...appeased by the answer, though she could not completely read his expression. Neria was silent as she moved to help him with the boxes, making a sound when he took them all. "Kell--" He had already paid for them; he couldn't carry them too. "I can take half at least, you know."

For a moment, she paused, silent, questioning. She hadn't considered they were going to go to the palace. Neria had assumed she would go back to the sanctuary and Kell would continue on until they sent for her. But he was...going to carry her things to the castle. Kell Maresh, Antari, bound brother to the crowned prince, was going to carry an outsider's clothing boxes to the palace for people to see.

Really, she didn't know why she was very surprised.

Quietly, she exhaled the trepidation in her frame. "I suppose so." So long as you're with me...

"Only because I can't see over them," Kell answered, frowning as he adjusted to give her two of the boxes. Significantly less than half -- but months in a war camp with a collar around his neck, months at a forced march, fetching and carrying, had eaten away Kell's patience when it came to maintaining appearances.

He knew damned well what this would look like, and he did not care. In fact, in his opinion, it would send precisely the right message.

... especially considering he'd slipped his guards for this errand.

But Neria didn't know about that.

Kell said his goodbyes and final thanks to Calla. She patted both of their arms as they left, invited them to come back as they liked, and they stepped out into the gathering light of day. The Night Market was rather quiet as they walked through it -- this was the time the vendors slept.

As they drew closer to the Isle, Kell pushed back his hood to make his auburn hair visible; it made him stand out like a sore thumb among the few people on the streets, and guards straightened to attention as he neared them, passed them.

Kell walked by them without acknowledgement. Most of them dared not look straight at him, but several were bold enough to regard Neria, wide-eyed, curious, and alarmed.

She took the boxes he offered, shooting him a long look from over the ones he had. Neria did not refute, taking Kell's frown for what it was, and followed him out of the Night Market after a fond and warm farewell to Calla. Neria had hope she would see her again before she departed from this world.

As before, she gained a better view of the city this way, and the boxes allowed her to hide some of her wandering gazes. As they neared the Isle, however, Kell fell aware from all attempts to obscure his appearance. His hair and eye gave him away, and the few people they passed recognized him immediately, pulling themselves together as befitting his rank.

But they did not stare at Kell. They looked at her.

At first, she did her best to keep her gaze on her boxes, or settled elsewhere. As she walked beside Kell, however, she watched how he kept his head high and did not falter, did not even acknowledge those he passed. Slowly, she did the same. She stood straighter, her gaze level with just beyond Kell's shoulder. Every now and then, she did glance toward those who watched her. She did not smile but her countenance, at least, was softer and not so severe.

Mas Aven. She remembered what she had been called. She was an interloper, an outsider. Everything she did would speak to her credibility and whether she could be trusted.

Belatedly he realized he should have warned Neria, but the closer they came to the castle, the more he realized it was self-explanitory, and that he needn't have worried. She could and did hold her own. While he had no illusions over how comfortable she was with being stared at, she could tolerate it well.

Or seemed to, which was what truly mattered in the context of the present.

Kell's boots were loud on the marble flooring of the entrance hall as he strode inside, where a dozen or so servants were busily adding flowers to urns, putting some of the final decorating touches on the already sparkling-clean, highly polished room. It smelled of the cold dew still on the roses, fresh from the gardens.

More distant was the smell of baking bread, hot tea, the faint polish and oil the guards used on their armor and weaponry-

And suddenly, two of those guards were approaching them. Both men wore gleaming armor and carried swords with blades chased in spellwork. One was older, with a severe expression drawn into grave lines. His hair was going to silver.

The other was younger than Kell and Neria both, with bright eyes and softly curling hair. He beamed as soon as he saw Kell -- it wasn't the smile of a sycophant.

"Staff. Hastra." Kell nodded to them both in turn.

"I thought you'd be along soon, sir." the younger man, Hastra, smiled a touch wider, as if he'd argued that point to someone before Kell's arrival. By the stony look on Staff's face, it may have been him.

"I said I would be." Kell sighed, an undercurrent of something like tension in his shoulders if not his voice, and he tilted his head towards Neria.

"Neria, this is Staff and Hastra. My personal guard." Personal guard. As if an Antari needed one.

"This is Neria Surana. She's..." Kell paused, minutely, lips parting as he caught on what to say. "A close friend of mine."

Both Staff and Hastra's eyebrows lifted, but it was Hastra who regarded her with open, warm curiosity, followed by a smile and a bow, which the other guard followed, though not as deep.

"Be welcome," said the boy, a tiny bit breathless. As he came up he looked from Neria to Kell and back again, as if trying to put something together.

Neria held it together as the guards approached, though her grip on the boxes in her hands tightened, if only to ensure she did not do something else. She put her faith in Kell; he would not lead her anywhere where she would be out of her league. Remaining silent, she looked from one guard to the next, gaze briefly wary. Hastra, at least, seemed unassuming.

My personal guard. It garnered a brief glance of confusion toward Kell before that, too, eased away. Questions wouldn't be helpful here.

(She managed to hide her smile when he called her a close friend, though it was a near thing. Her eyes, however, held the faintest hint of mirth.)

To Staff and Hastra, Neria dipped herself into a brief bow. "Thank you, sirs. You've been most kind." She regarded their curiosity coolly; she remembered, after all, what Kell had said before: that those who might ask for him were clearly from other worlds and always a potential danger. That she was Kell's friend made that clear enough.

She wondered though, and perhaps not for the first time, if Kell had been allowed to have friends besides his brother or if his duty encompassed everything. And she wondered if that was who Lila was, once upon a time, and things had changed.

Though Staff gave little away, Hastra was plainly both thrown and awed by the fact that Neria had bowed back -- apparently, the status he'd assumed of her didn't match the display. His cheeks flamed red, and he stepped forward, arms out for the boxes.

"Ah, please let me carry those for you!"

Next to her, Kell held his mouth tight, but his eyes were bright, eyebrows raised. Close to a smile, but clamped down on it, actively trying not to let it show.

"I have arms, Hastra," Kell answered, but not harshly, keeping hold of his boxes when the boy offered to take his too, regardless of what Neria did with hers. "Have the King and Queen decided where they would like her to stay?" Kell asked, clearing his throat behind a hand. Hastra blinked, pulled from his fluster to nod.

"... yes! Sorry, we'll take you there right away." Snapping to attention, Hastra turned to lead the way, and Staff brought up the rear. It was a perfectly proper place for a guard, but... Kell's shoulders stiffened as he took up the position, and he looked straight ahead, following Hastra through the hallways.

The ballroom and hall turned quickly to a more intimate set of spaces, though they were no less beautifully decorated, suitably grand. It somewhat resembled Aallotar, though with far more flowers and greenery. Draped fabrics both muffled sounds and gave the cold marble halls more warmth.

The lights were the glow of magic, or candlelight- though the wax on the candles did not drip or melt. When they came near enough to the windows, soft winter sunlight streamed in.

The room was down a hallway with worked wooden doors -- down at the end, one was inscribed with a stylized golden K. The door Hastra opened for them was unmarked -- but the chamber inside was quiet, beautifully appointed with silvery ash furniture, autumn-red draperies and bedclothes. Touches of gold chased themselves into the details. It smelled of fresh linens and, faintly, lilies.

Edited 2018-09-30 03:16 (UTC)

It was far more difficult for her to contain her own smile, though she kept it carefully controlled, polite but warm. It was slowly getting easier to do so, to feel safe enough to brandish any kind of emotion. Hastra was kind and she appreciated his eagerness.

"Please," she said softly. "I'm used to carrying my belongings. I can do it." Which she might have added also to fluster him further. Who could say?

She turned to glance at Staff as he took up the rear, her gaze then sliding towards Kell, questioning once more. No voice was given to her concern, nor to the uncertain fear she felt that crawled up her back as they walked through the halls. It did remind her almost too much of Aallotar, but there was a warmth here that the halls of the elven lands could not hold a candle to. Where Aallotar had been swathed in blues and silvers, the halls here were bright, made beautiful and lively with flowers and greens that caught the eye. The longer they walked, the more she seemed to settle the barbed edges that had sprung up and the wariness that came with them, until they arrived at the designated hallway.

Down the hall was Kell's room, never too far. Neria hesitated, glancing once at Kell and then at Hastra before consenting to step inside the room. Warmer tones greeted her, inviting. She set the boxes in her arms down upon the dresser in passing as she moved further into the room, where she came to a stop at the center, simply looking around. It was far grander than the castle in Denerim, that much was certain. Barring Aallotar, it was perhaps the most extravagant place she'd been to, and though she had always felt estranged in such environments, this felt...welcoming.

It even had a trace of lilies. To herself, her back to the door, her lips briefly quirked up in a smile.

When she turned back, it had smoothed out. She still carried a wide-eyed expression, openly impressed, and the corners of her mouth were pulled up slightly once more, congenial. "This is breathtakingly beautiful. Thank you. I will have to thank the King and Queen as well for such hospitality."

Kell opened his mouth, and found that he was at a loss for what to say.

Neria had known Kell on a battlefield. In a collar. They'd met covered in dirt and blood and sweat, smelling of desperation. Their friendship had been forged by the fireside, feet sore from marching and terrible wine spreading its lingering taste in their mouths as they spoke of things that Kell, at least, had never spoken of to anyone else.

Neria had never seen him like this. As the brother of a prince, standing in the palace he'd grown up in, fit into too easily. Down the hall from the room that had been his since he'd been a child.

What left Neria wide-eyed and impressed was Kell's every day, and it was difficult not to be painfully aware of it.

All he could do was nod.

Kell set the boxes on the dresser alongside the ones Neria had been carrying and lingered there -- before glancing at the guards still shadowing the doorway.

"Speaking of- when would they like to see us?"

"As soon as you're both settled, sir." Hastra answered, lingering somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. Kell paused, then nodded.

"Neria? Do you need anything before I leave you alone?"

Kell's demeanor had changed, the difference striking even if she could not quite know its cause. He lingered nearby and she thought to ask him, but then she remembered the guards and--

The King and Queen wanted to see them. She shifted somewhat, uncomfortable, and steadied her faint breathing. "No, it's all right. I'll get ready." She would take the time to put away the clothes and redo her hair, and that would be enough.

Softly, she asked Kell before he left: Should I come as I am? Is this enough for them or--

Or should she put something nicer on? Visiting Queen Anora in Denerim had been something else; she had gone there as Warden-Commander responding to the summons of a queen. Here, she was an outsider, and did not know the rules. Should she seem fit for the hospitality they were affording her, or come as close to her own truth as possible, and hope they understood?

Her eyes wandered towards the guards.

Will they be following you or me?

Kell nodded, straightening -- and his lips parted as her thoughts reached out to him, her voice as clear in his mind as if she'd spoke aloud. She so rarely did this when they were near each other, he'd actually forgotten that she could.

He hesitated in his answer, thinking of the King and Queen, and how they were prepared to view her. There were a few seconds of silence before his measured answer.

When I Travel I come as I am.

He wouldn't tell her what to do. There was power and drawbacks in both options, and it would be up to her to decide how she weighed it.

"I'm down the hall," Kell told her, tilting his head as he strode to her doorway, looked back. "I'll leave the door open."

The door clicked shut after him, but his thoughts came steadily, keeping the thread of communication open.

... and don't worry. They're keeping an eye on me, not you.

Neria watched him go and waited until the click of the door to allow her shoulders to slump. He was just down the hall. The door would be open. When she finished, she would go back to him. Until then...

She was efficient, quick, as she moved about the room. She put the boxes away, taking great care with each. With that accomplished, she began to unwind her hair once more, looking for a brush. What Kell said stayed with her: to come as she was. She knew, as he did, that first impressions made all of the difference...and there was power in presenting one way over another. Neria wanted to look acceptable to the King and Queen, knowing this trip would be temporary - but also knowing that if she needed to return, until the doors were officially closed, she would want them to remember her well, and not to remember her as a problem.

Unconsciously, she reached for her throat for the first time in months. She had no pendant to show them, nothing to prove her authority. The elves had taken everything from her. She pressed her knuckles to her eyes for several moments, then gathered the energy to go sit at the boudoir, taking up the brush there to comb out her hair and re-tie it.

Why are they following you, Kell? You said it was as if you only left for moments; what are they afraid is going to happen?

Silence fell on Kell's side of their connection, along with the hot, prickly brush of pain before he closed it off.

It wasn't because of that. It's a long story, but... Kell trailed off, unsure of how to explain in a way that would not make her upset. He didn't need their connection to know how unsettled she already was. I will tell it to you later. It has to do with Holland.

In his own room, Kell washed his face, ran a comb properly through his hair, and straightened his coat, putting himself into a semblance of order. He touched the lock of hair that habitually fell into his eye, then slowly combed it back and out of his face.

Edited 2018-09-30 15:55 (UTC)

She let the brief flash of pain wash over her, frowning. Neria reached out and pressed back, warm against his thoughts, but did not push for answers. Holland was a subject they hadn't spoken of in months, though she remembered the things they had traded about him. But what Kell didn't say became clear to her: these guards were supposed to be with him, and he'd slipped their lead to be at her side.

All right. Give me a few minutes.

She pulled her hair back into something looser, and braided two short strands to pull back into the tie on either side of her head. Neria looked at herself in the mirror and pulled herself from her chair. She made her way to Kell's room, gently knocking for him.

Neria wasn't wrong.

Kell made a sound of assent under his breath, forgetting that she couldn't hear it. When she approached the room she'd find his door cracked, the guards stationed outside out of respect for his privacy.

When she knocked he tugged the door inward a moment later, moved through to join her in the hallway. His eyes warmed as he took her in -- herself as she was. Despite coming from worlds away, Neria... well, she'd always had a certain nobility to her bearing.

She fit the space more than she knew.

Kell offered her his arm.

Hastra moved again to lead, but not before offering Neria a warm smile. The place they went to wasn't terribly far- it was within the same wing of the palace, though closer to the outer rim of the buildings. The hallways gave over to more windows, affording a view of the city, and of the sprawling gardens and buildings of the Isle. It was a touch cooler here, but the sunlight through the well-placed windows warmed them.

In fact, the room they were led to was a sunroom, with glassed windows and roof, fragrant with green and the smell of freshly baked bread, hot tea. The floor was stone covered in soft carpet. It still held a sense of the royal, but... it was not so harshly formal.

Staff and Hastra stayed outside the chambers, but Kell led on -- and they encountered the king and queen almost immediately, seated in comfortable chairs around a glassed table set with tea.

Both of them looked nothing like Kell.

Though Rhy wasn't present -- he'd likely meet up with them later -- the family resemblance was plain. Rhy looked like a perfect blending of his parents. The Queen was a touch smaller than Rhy, a woman with large, careful brown eyes who had grown into matured beauty. Her long hair was braided through with golden ribbons, her every movement purposeful.

The King was a mountain of a man, older, but not gone soft in his age. Standing broader and taller than Kell, he had the look of a man who carried the weight of years of responsibility, but did not falter in the strength to do so. Where Rhy's golden-amber eyes (before the change, at least) had often been laughing, volatile, Maxim's were steady and hard as steel.

Though there was no hostility in how they regarded Kell, there was no warmth, either.

"Father, Mother," Kell said quietly, coming to a stop next to the table. "This is Neria Surana. Neria, this is King Maxim and Queen Emira Maresh."

The queen was the one to politely lift a hand to indicate the two empty seats.

"Please, join us."

When Kell emerged, Neria looked up and gave him a smile to match the warmth that showed in his gaze. It felt too easy to slip her arm around his and to follow beside him, though it certainly seemed surreal. Though they'd walked together several times before, this time they stood side-by-side, no collars, no bloodshed, no war, surrounded by finery.

Considering all they'd been through, it seemed a little like a far-off dream that she was walking in.

But follow him she did, with Hastra kind enough to lead. As they crossed the threshold into the sunroom, Neria forced her anxieties out, for her fear to settle. She held her head high and kept her expression open.

She did not know what she was going to expect from the King and Queen...but their resemblance to Rhy, while logical, surprised her. She saw the strength in both of them, the grace and poise, and inclined her head when Kell spoke her name. She dipped into a deep bow, deeper than she had for the guards. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, and released Kell slowly so she could sit as he did - and she shot him a brief look if he should try to pull her chair out for her. "I am humbled by your hospitality."

Kell did try to pull her chair out for her -- but he was quick to shoot her a look right back, then sit down next to her, remembering himself and where he was.

Emira's dark eyes took in the byplay, while Maxim's remained fixed on Neria, as if weighing her.

They could hardly keep you in the dungeons, Kell wanted to answer, but he schooled his tongue (and may have thought it too loudly, a bad habit).

"Of course," Emira responded politely, and moved the tea tray closer to them both in offer. One glance at Kell, and he automatically moved to pour them each a cup, if only to have something to do with his hands. "It seems your arrival was as much of a surprise to you as it was to us."

Kell shut his eyes for longer than a blink. The words were pleasant enough, but the question was there.

They could, she whispered back, solemn, but did not meet Kell's gaze this time. Instead, she sat, and she was drawn to look toward Maxim, unflinching beneath the steel weight he leveled upon her. I have been an interloper before. To herself, in silence, she mapped how quickly she could get out if needed, though it was her last resort.

She needed to rise up this time, rather than let herself be hobbled.

Her hands remained in her lap while Kell poured them tea. Her thumb pressed into the back of her hand. "It was, yes. It was my not my intention to intrude upon your world and its sanctuary." She did not say she held remorse over where she came out, nor in her reuniting with Kell. "It was only fortuitous that I knew someone here."

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