"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
It has been years since she has last been to Nerine—not since Heartfire was queen.
While the rocky shores of the north had not been her home for long she still held a fondness for the place that had housed her when she was truly, utterly lost. When she was still refusing to let go of feeling as if she had failed Tephra, when she had fallen for Badden only for it to crash and burn. Something about the ruggedness of the terrain, and the constant cold and cloak of mist had felt like shelter; a place to hide without feeling like she was hiding.
She knew only vaguely of the way the kingdom seat had shifted around over the years, and while she should have probably paid a visit to Icicle Isle, she never had. But now that rumors had made it to Tephra that the throne once again sat with Nerine, her interest had been piqued enough that she set off for the northern kingdom early in the morning, curious to see who holds the crown now.
When she touches down the kingdom is still shrouded in fog, Nerine noticeably much more frigid than the jungle kingdom she had just left. A shiver runs the length of her spine and she hugs her dragon wings close to her side, an armor of scales lacing across her body in an attempt to ward off the bitter wind that kept whipping through. There was a cover of broody looking clouds above, which she knows means it will likely rain soon, and she predicts this will likely be a short visit.
Slowly she begins to make her way through the kingdom, certain that who she is looking for will find her soon enough.
He should find it uncomfortable that so many remember this kingdom so easily as the one his grandmother ruled, yet he does not. He’d never intended to follow in her footsteps, and yet here he is, ruler of the same land she had ruled. But he is not nearly self-conscious enough for it to bother him. He is his own man, regardless of what blood runs through his veins. She had walked her path, but the one he walks now is vastly different.
It’s Rune that alerts him to the presence of another in his land. It’s a failing as a ruler perhaps, but he has never patrolled his borders like so many of the others do. But then, he has always found the extreme overprotectiveness of arbitrary lines drawn in dirt laughable. He has never respected those imaginary barriers, so why should he imagine others would? If someone has designs on his kingdom, it’s not like those lines will stop them.
No, he has always found his time far better spent doing things that matter to him more than policing his borders.
The large raptor’s cry heralds his arrival as he nears the mare making her way through the moors. He recognizes her, of course, despite never having met her. Casimira. He would be a very poor ruler indeed if he could not recognize his counterparts. Mist swirls around his pale legs as he strides across the damp heather, his vibrant blue eyes alight with curiosity. His grandmother’s blue eyes, anyone who knew her might say. But to Reave, they are his alone.
“If you’re here to admire the views,” he offers by way of greeting, a wicked grin kicking up the corners of his lips, “you have picked a bad day for it.”
She knows almost nothing about Reave; nothing about his abilities or how similar they are to Heartfire’s. But she does know how kingdoms work, and how leaders seemed to be drawn to visitors like magnets. Much like Reave, though, she did not pay particular attention to outsiders in Tephra. Even if she saw them and took notice she did not necessarily approach; not unless they carried that particular air that signaled they were in search of a leader, specifically.
She liked to be left alone, and she usually awarded everyone else the same honor.
It is the eagle she sees first, and she tilts her head upward to watch the way it circles, as if it is ensnaring her in an invisible trap. The sound of hoofbeats against the stony earth brings her gaze level with the approaching stallion, and almost instantly there are parts of Heartfire that jump out at her—the eyes, mostly, the same vivid shade of blue. The bone armor is different, though, and she finds her eyes drawn to it, at the way it plates his shoulders, and down the front of his face.
He is striking, but it is a polite, cordial smile that she greets him with that almost seems to clash against his wicked one. Casimira has not always been guarded, but years of misplacing her trust into the wrong hands has left her cautious, and he is no different. If anything she regards him with a greater wariness than she does most, that glint in his arresting blue eyes not going unnoticed. “It wouldn’t be Nerine if it wasn’t overcast and cold, would it?” is the most she can offer in the way of jesting, some of the formalness slipping from her smile and a bit of her own personal warmth finding its way through the cracks.
“I’m Casimira, of Tephra.” There is an almost awkward pause, before she tacks on hesitantly. “Queen of Tephra, I should say. I’m looking for Reave?” His name lilts on her tongue in a question, her pale blue eyes locking with his, searching for the confirmation that she has found the right individual.
Reave has avoided the more boring aspects of life with a dogged tenacity that defies reason for so long it has become second nature to him. This includes the deadly dullness of politics, though it is perhaps not the best way to manage a kingdom. So far though, it has worked out well enough for him. And now, even with another queen in his kingdom, here out of a sense of duty no doubt, he refuses to cede his questionable antics.
If she had come only to discuss kingdom matters, she would find herself sorely disappointed.
As it is, her caution in greeting him is not misplaced. Indeed, that caution would probably serve her far better in her dealings with Reave than any other approach, especially considering his own habitually incautious attention.
Her rejoinder brings a chuckle to his lips, vibrant eyes twinkling behind the carved bone masking his features. “You’ve spent time here, I see,” he replies, grin flashing wide before fading slightly. Tipping his head, he eyes her as she introduces herself, faltering over her title. A smirk steals over his lips before he says, “You sound uncertain about that.”
He shifts unconsciously, amusement clear in the shrouded lines of his face. “But you’re in luck,” he continues after a moment, corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’ve found him.” He pauses, lips curling up at the corners in an almost sly manner. “Though something tells me you already knew that.”
“I have,” she says with a small smile when he mentions how she must have spent time here, and some of the rigidness in her spine melts away. Not entirely relaxed, but at least now appearing as if she actually wants to make conversation rather than immediately return to Tephra. “When Heartfire was queen I stayed here for a little bit. It wasn’t long after the war in Tephra with Loess, and I just…needed a break, I suppose.” She does not say what really happened, even though, unbeknownst to her, he would be able to see it.
He would be able to see that concurrent with her thoughts of Nerine, there are, too, the memories of why she had come in the first place. Of Tephra cloaked in smoke and shadows, of a fight between her and another dragon, and then of a star-dappled mare colliding with her—and the bright flash of an explosion. The memory of being reborn from one of her own dragon scales comes next, when everywhere she looked everything had either been scorched by dragon’s fire or covered by hardened lava.
And there, too, is the feeling of failure that had bloomed alongside her newborn heart. The feeling that she failed her birthplace by not protecting it, by not being able to control herself in her shifted form.
She had been so young at the time that this brief falter had felt like a fall she could not recover from, and her naive mind had convinced her that Leliana and the other Tephran residents would despise her for what she could not overcome.
Leaving had felt like the only choice.
She had been grateful for the refuge that Heartfire had been able to offer her, and she is certain that most of the kindness had only been as a favor to her mother. Casimira is positive that despite her mother’s somewhat fickle ways and ever-changing morals that she would do the same for one of Heartfire’s children, too.
She laughs lightly when he calls her out for sounding uncertain, her smile turning into something almost sheepish, and yet somehow all the more genuine. “Guilty. It still sounds strange, I guess. I was born in Tephra and have spent most of my life there but I guess I did not expect to be queen of it one day.” She pauses, since she is not really sure how things like this are supposed to go. She was not actually after anything from him; she did not expect to solidify an alliance, at least. All she wanted was for them to be familiar with one another, to know who the other monarch is, since she already is close with Mazikeen and Hyaline. “You strike me as someone that always knew they would be king, though.”
if its not obvious since I went into so much detail, he's allowed to fully see her whole memory of the Tephra/Loess war, dying, etc lmao
The memory that filters through her thoughts is a strong one. A moment that had proven pivotal to her existence. It is a memory so loud that he would have to exert some effort to ignore it, so he does not even try. It’s a curious thing, passively watching someone interact with an ancestor one has met only in memories and visions. Even after all this time has passed, her legacy remains so strongly tied to north that Reave could not avoid it even if he wanted to.
And oh how desperately he wants to sometimes.
He says nothing however. Not out of kindness or desire to make her comfortable, but rather because there is little benefit to admitting his knowledge of it at this time. Instead he merely tilts his head curiously as she admits to her uncertainty, revealing her lack of expectations. Her observation brings a chuckle to his lips, causing him to scan the damp moors before returning his attention to her.
“I suppose it would appear that way,” he admits as freely as she had made her confessions. “But truthfully, I saw an opportunity and took it.” He shrugs faintly, shifting in his usual restless manner. “It aligned with my goals.”
Reave pauses a moment then, gaze sharpening where it rests on the queen of Tephra. “I have met your twin you know,” he continues, abruptly changing the subject as he studies Casimira with a careful eye. A grin tugs at his lips when he adds, “You strike me as his polar opposite, but the resemblance is there.”
“And what are your goals?” she cannot help but to ask when he mentions them. Casimira had not been born politically driven, but she knows that not everyone else is the same. She knows that there are many out there that seek to gain some kind of power, whether that is with a crown or from the magic they carry. She is sure there are some that would think dragon shifting had been wasted on her, that they look at her with a greedy kind of wonder as they imagine the kinds of things they could do if such a power had been granted to them.
Instead it sits with her, mostly dormant, and always under careful control.
She would never be the kind of queen that forced a kingdom to kneel using the threat of her dragon’s teeth.
She would never be the kind of queen that rained fire onto another kingdom just for the sake of watching them burn, the way Loess had once done to Tephra.
But she knows that there are others out there that if given the chance, they would not do the same.
She is distracted by the talk of kingdoms and goals when he mentions her twin, and almost immediately a genuine smile melts away her guarded exterior. “Cassian,” she confirms his name with a quiet laugh and a shake of her head. “We’re hardly anything alike, but he does manage to bring out a different side of me, in a good way.” Because her twin is perhaps the only one where she feels as if she can be her true self around him. Where she does not have to pretend to be confident or brave, or like her heart has never been torn asunder. He is the other half of her in the purest, most innocent of ways, in a way that no one else could ever be. “Do you have any siblings?” she asks, curious of this enigmatic man that seemed to know so much.
“That depends on when you ask,” he quips with an impish grin. In truth, his goals are not something most would understand or appreciate. He has never craved power in the same sense many others do. Instead he craves release. An outlet for the wildness that fills him until he feels as though he might burst if he does not let it loose. But how does one explain that to another?
Instead of further clarifying, he changes the subject. He watches the softness that steals over her at the mention of her twin. It’s a curious thing, that. Oh, Reave loves his family well enough, but he has never felt that kind of connection with anyone before. He’s not entirely certain he is capable of it. Aela is perhaps the closest he has come, but there is nothing gentle about their relationship, nor does he entirely trust her.
Of course, he doesn’t entirely trust anyone.
“I do.” He answers her question about siblings without hesitation, a faint grin touching his mouth. “Well, half-siblings at least. No one has seen fit to play a second joke on my mothers, so I have no full siblings.”
As he continues watching her in that curiously intense way of his, the endless threads of so many futures tickle strangely at his mind. He normally doesn’t have the patience to follow the many disparate paths another’s life can take, but as he stares at her, many of them coalesce. So many choices, yet all lead toward the same dark juncture.
He debates ignoring it, but the possibilities are too great. In the end, he fixes his brilliant gaze on her, lips unsmiling for once.
“You wanted to know my goals?” he asks, bringing them back around to the subject he had ignored before. “Well, today it’s to help you.” He pauses, then releases a breath. “Tephra’s in trouble. There’s a storm coming.” His lips kick upwards before he adds, “A big one.”
