Nathaniel woke up feeling the softest bedding he's ever felt in his life. It slid over his skin like water and wrapped around him like a pleasant hug. He opened his eyes and found an alpha hovering over him, dressed in what looked like casual wrappings, if not robes. His brief moment of panic passed as he recognized the Empress of Sonhrai sighing at his bedside.
"I can tell you've awakened," the Empress said lightly. Her hands tucked the bedding around him snugly. "I would prefer you have more sleep, but I should ask first, how do you feel?"
"Alive." And then once the words were said, he regretted it.
The Empress laughed, and the shape of her mouth in laughter reminded him of his omega father's. "It's not all that funny. This could have been dire. But I am glad Donte arrived when he did. I can't imagine how--how he would've felt knowing." Her voice trailed off into a sigh. "You know, don't you?"
Nathaniel swallowed. "You mean, with what was said?"
"And what they said is true," the Empress cut in. Her stern eyes looked him over before she patted his arm through the sheets. "You are my grandson. An illegitimate heir, I must make clear, but a recognized heir, nonetheless. I imagine you must have questions or requests."
He blinked and then said, "When can I leave, your highness?"
"I--" the Empress pursed her lips, and Nathaniel felt he had to reassess the situation. "You may ask me anything while you're here."
"I have already been given marriage. My titles and status are beyond repair," Nathaniel repeated to make clear that he had no wants or desires that he shouldn't have. "I will be returning to an empire that doesn't care if I'm Sonhrai nobility, royalty, or anything Sonhrai at all, actually. Thank you for allowing me to keep my life."
He stumbled out of bed, and the Empress gestured to catch him, but he flinched at the motion. This was inappropriate. He kneeled even as the Empress asked that he stand, and nearly bent at the knee too.
"I was nearly killed for having curiosity about my lineage," Nathaniel said. "I have lived my life in ignorance, but I have never been killed for it. It would be better for me if I kept it that way. I don't believe I ask much of you here."
He twisted around, tripping his way towards the door as his knees felt sore from the injuries in scratching against the rough stone ground.
"You don't have any wants! Dreams. Interests?" The Empress repeated. "If you need a bigger dowry, I can send you one. Make your husband's family respect you as you deserve to be--"
"I will be fine as is."
He could tell her actions were sincere.
Nathaniel felt the simmering heat at the bottom of his belly spin, but she is an Empress. And he was nothing. It was far too late for something of this size to change his life.
"I hear what they do to male omegas in the Carolingian," the Empress said. "Perhaps--you would be interested in staying? Or I could build you housing elsewhere? Places where you can make the demands without worry."
He clutched his side and shoved down his fury.
"They tell you, your Gods hate you and that you must pay them back with servitude. Pure and unadulterated servitude. It's not fair, is it? You must want something for yourself. It can be something simple, but it should be something. Let me offer that."
His eyes fell over the intricate carvings on the wooden panels over the walls, and then he shook his head as his hand nearly met the grooves of the door.
"The hands of my grandfather carved these walls," the Empress said and the words froze Nathaniel. "Your great-grandfather, an omega like you, was trained in the way of our family's skills. He wasn't exceptional in any way, politically or anything of the sort, but he was skilled in woodcarving. We haven't had anyone willing to be mentored in three generations, but if you--?"
"I'm of Carolingian birth," Nathaniel retorted. "I don't understand why you believe that blood is thicker than water. The water of the covenant will spin in my body longer than the blood that I will spill from a wound or injury. Blood that spent most of my life staying hidden."
"You're bitter?"
"I'm exhausted." Nathaniel leaned against the door and exhaled, "I want to live freely, and that is all."
"And yet your eyes draw over these walls and the door, as you hesitate to leave. Why are you still here?"
The bitterness stirring in the bottom of his stomach met his throat and to his mouth, off his lips on the tip of his tongue, he said, "I do not know the measure of my existence. And I want even less to be told how to measure it by. Can you fix that? Put back together a cracked stone."
The Empress slowly nodded and then said, "May I have one good look at you? I gather a guess that we may never meet again."
He twisted around but nodded. And the older woman, much less like a royal and more like an elder, pinched his cheeks and brushed her fingers through his hair.
She continued to speak, "Your Carolingian lineage changes nothing in this kingdom. You will always be a child of our dynasty. If you are ever in need, no matter where you are, someone will be there."
Nathaniel huffed.
It was a ludicrous thing to say.
But a kind thing, nonetheless.
The motions were calming now that he knew, at a bare level, what her intent was. He carefully pulled away and motioned to push the door.
"My brother is being sent off to war," Nathaniel added over his shoulder. "I think he deserves more help than I do."
She sighed heavily. "I understand."
He pushed through the door and guards greeted him before leading him out of the palace to a kajawa that would take him to the Campgrounds. Trunks filled with what he imagined to be that dowry that she spoke of rattled as they moved. Perhaps it was childish of him to be upset at the older woman. Then, he thought of Titus and Orellano family secrets.
When the kajawa reached the Campgrounds, he found Donte pacing the stretch of the entrance on one end and his in-laws with his husband, surprisingly, waiting.
He stepped out and motioned for the transfer of the dowry to the port to prep for shipping and greeted his in-laws. Ahanu leaned forward and hugged him deeply, a warm pleasant comfort. His head tucked on his shoulder as Master Orellano spoke, "We apologize for being so late. There was an issue with missives to my relatives in the East. I spent most of the time arguing about prices and fees."
"We heard about the accident," Ahanu added and then pulled away. "How are you feeling? Titus, come here and check over your husband. I can't believe I have to remind you."
"It's no worries," he said as Titus' typical demeanor stood there--bored and disinterested. "He's fine there."
"I bargain to disagree," Donte snapped from behind him and tucked at his side, glaring at Titus. "If he had been there during the wedding, it would've been impossible for things to go the way they had."
"My son hasn't regained his natural senses after wandering out for so many months," Ahanu tried to explain but it sounded weak probably even to his ears. "He would've been there had we known he could. It's not easy to gain entrance into the palace."
Nathaniel could see the invisible lines of insults and mud slinging between Titus and Donte but was more interested in the absence of his brother. He hadn't seen him since before the ceremony. "Where did my brother go? He must've arrived by now."
"Well," Donte admitted uncomfortably. "We should discuss that inside."
"What do you--?"
"He's safe," Titus hissed and then crossed his arms. "But he's missing."
He nearly lost his balance as dizziness clouded his mind and then repeated, "Where did he go? How do you know he's safe?"
"We don't know," Donte said calmly and patted his hand down Nathaniel's back, like he would a baby. Nathaniel wasn't sure if he was offended or not. "But we'll surely find out. Akhutenan can take care of himself. And so should you in the meantime."
It felt as though things were happening that they refused to tell him. His eyes landed on every single person, and the same look reflected in their eyes as they avoided direct eye contact.
They were lying.
He yanked out of Donte's hold and dusted off his already fairly discolored clothing and said, "I'll simply find out for myself. No need to coddle me," and stepped inside the Campgrounds.
The first person he caught sight of was Enzo and Roy Casas speaking with a few other Captains and generals. He recognized Boucher and Cordero but didn't know the others. They huddled around and then quieted when their eyes switched on his form closing in on them.
"I'm alive, thank you," he said, hoping to disarm them a bit.
Enzo was the first to speak. "They'll have to hear about this. It's one thing to encourage strict laws of hierarchy and status, but to make assumptions and not inform themselves before proceeding? Even as you dressed within customs," He sniffed. "Have no worries, Donte. We will handle this. It won't happen again."
He knew it wouldn't happen again, but he wasn't returning to this land ever again--that was neither here nor there.
"We saw him right before," Nathaniel said as his eyes drew on them and a few nods agreed. "What happened? It had to be one of the guests. No one else could get inside. Not with those guards."
"There's a shortlist, there," Roy sighed and then shook his head. "Akhutenan is the glue for continued wealth in our alliance with Sonhrai but most of the guests have nothing to benefit from disrupting the alliance."
His eyes fell on the others as he pursed his lips.
Because he knew there was one.
"I saw the Crown Prince of Zhuong there," Nathaniel said weakly. "Wouldn't he--?"
"The Crown Prince?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"I think we would've known."
"I doubt--"
The night sky hovering over them and the disquieting nature of the desert floated their words over his ears. He shouldn't have said anything. They could do more for his brother than Nathaniel ever could.
And he realized, as he turned around, leaving the arguing soldiers, generals, captains, and so on behind him, that he had never really wandered the Campgrounds.
This place was no less foreign than the rest of the empire. He walked backward directly into the path, returning to the entrance. The kajawa was still there, and he motioned for them to take him back to the port instead.
He couldn't stay here either.
As the wheels clicked over pebbles and uneven road, he felt foolish for thinking he could find his way to reach anything, anywhere without help. As soon as he stepped out, Titus stood there staring out at the sea.
"I rented out the best room available," Titus said with crossed arms. His eyes refused to meet his. "I remember you having trouble sleeping in new places. Figured you might end up back here."
"Where's--?"
"They're busy trying to find the Commander."
Nathaniel nodded and then followed Titus inside the port inn, where they were waved upstairs and entered one of the rooms with a little balcony facing the water. His husband's sharp figure in the candelit lighting, flickering over his Zhuong robes and tattoos, reminded him how much had changed in such little time. He settled onto the bed and relaxed into the familiar sort of bedding.
"Did it help? Being away." Nathaniel said, pointing to the tattoos. "You seem--healthier. Better. Last I saw, you looked like a porcupine trying to wear clothes in your wedding robes."
His lips nearly twitched into what may have been a smile, but Nathaniel thought he imagined it.
"It was both better and worse," Titus said, leaning against the wall of the inn, in the continued flickering light and lack of it. "I enjoyed retracing what I could of my ancestors, but when I reached the end, all I could do was measure the emptiness."
Nathaniel nodded. "Finding out how far you can go is a good experience in and of itself."
"And how would you know about that?"
The question sounded just as mean as his words before but Nathaniel couldn't hear it in his tone. His brows raised as if he were honestly interested in what Nathaniel had to say.
"You know," Nathaniel started uncomfortably. "We--male omegas are taught to know our limitations so that we never stretch beyond ourselves. They teach us that so we can tell what we can and cannot learn."
"The emptiness," Titus said slowly. "It isn't meant to be the end. The end is when you find out what can fill it. And whether you're willing to do so."
Nathaniel wanted to speak but the words caught in his throat. "I'm willing to do anything for that feeling, but I'm not allowed to want those things, am I? I was meant to wait in some shape or form. The capacity requires a freedom I don't have. So I wait. I wait until it's all over."
"Until we die?"
He pursed his lips, but yes, that was the point of it all.
They were meant to wait on hand and foot until they died.
And it finally ended.
He said, as if the weight on his chest burdened itself and became the size of a mountain, shakily, "Of course."
Titus went still.
His husband exhaled slowly and then kneeled at the foot of the bed where Nathaniel sat. His hands, a much stronger strength than Nathaniel remembered him having before, clasped around his thighs, as he peered up at him. "You shouldn't wait for me, but I can promise that I will wait for no other."
Something about those words cracked in Nathaniel. Worse than before. He leaned forward as the lump in his throat, water pooled beneath his eyes, and a choking sound escaped his body as he began to cry. His hands, arms, and the rest of the length of his upper sleeves couldn't wipe fast enough as Titus wrapped his hands around his hips and pulled him close.
Why was the weight so heavy?
"I wish I had," Titus said, under his breath but loud enough to be heard, "seen how similar our sense of duty stands. I wish--I had seen you clearer."
As the tears dried up, the suffocating hot feeling in his chest seeped out. He grabbed Titus' hand and said, "Then don't leave."
Those hazel-like green eyes met his and then nodded. "I can stay for a few more days," and stood up, but Nathaniel kept his hold on his hands, standing up when he did. "Is there--?"
All he could think about as his eyes gazed into the other's was how much more humiliation he could stand to take.
And it was enough.
It was now or never.
His fingers trailed up Titus' wrists, sinewed with muscle and veins, his arm barreled and taut, and then to his shoulder, rounded and thick. The skin-to-skin link held Titus from moving with his eyes following the length of his hands.
Hair sprinkled around his chest and trailed down his stomach, with Nathaniel's hands marking the trail down. He looked up at Titus. "Does this work for you?" and his fingers delved beneath the robe, finding his hardness lengthen in his palm. He could barely wrap his full palm around it and then leaned on Titus' chest, the muscles contracting on touch, as he still hadn't spoken a word. "I'll need help."
With his other hand, drew Titus' hand beneath his own robes shaping his hand to cup his fingers before pressing in shallowly as his hand fisted around Titus' cock, he could hear his husband's muffled groans in his ear. His husband buried his lips and tongue against his neck, clenching his free hand tight against his hip, until he felt himself unable to budge. The fingers delved deeper, burying until he crooked his finger, and blinding lights struck him. A moan wrangled out of him as wet coated his hand, and he slipped out of his thickly sewn silken robes. Titus mirrored him, freeing his hand, but yanked Nathaniel's lower robes off. He may have even heard it rip. His teeth grazed Nathaniel's neck as his hands grappled above his waist, pulling himself in, easing himself inside. The angle pulled his hips in, and the stretch was never-ending until Titus snapped up. His tongue lapping at his neck with intermittent kisses trailing up and around his nape, up his chin, and then twisting in his mouth as his hips snapped again. His legs wrapped around his hips and bounced on his cock as his hips snapped up with increasing speed filling him up again and again.
Titus' release shivered through him like lightning, and his release pulled from his body when hands tightened around his waist enough to almost hurt. With little fanfare, Titus kissed across his cheek over his lips before Nathaniel's grip loosened and his body slid over the bed. His husband twisted him around and impaled him on his cock again, his chest covering his back like heavy, thick winter robe. Yanking his hips back and forth instead of thrusting. His hips slicking with wet as cum trailed down between them. In the haze, he heard, "Waited. Too long." and his hips snapped forward with hands twisting around chest. It didn't take long this time before his release struck him and Titus' soon after, filling him up as his hips held tight against his back.
His lips trailed his ear when he said, "Tired?"
Nathaniel nodded off and felt his body carried off the bed.
Empress Shlaweya sat in her great-grandfather's empty old study that had now become an empty guestroom. She gestured to one of her servants to send the palace woodcarving master to train Nathaniel. A master who would follow him to the Carolingian Empire, protect him, and offer him insight into the French family.
It was the least she could do.
The door opened, breaking the quiet, with her Empress' Consort and Hurulari kneeling.
"You feel guilty now?"
"I hadn't known his relationship to the family," her Empress' Consort pleaded and then clutched Hurulari, who sat there pale and frightened. "She has nothing to do with this. The guilt lies on me solely for--"
"Let Jata Niara know that I've changed my mind," the Empress sighed. "Perhaps it's good that she relies on the foreigners in that way; they can rely on her. We have alliances for a reason. It is best that we use them, isn't it?"
She saw the trembling clench of her main consort as he acquiesced with a nod. It hadn't even been a full day but she would be lenient.
"Of course, you know much better than I," Evie nodded again before yanking Hurulari and himself out of the room. "Servants will await your orders outside the door.. I will wait as well."
"And send Khaemwaset in as soon as possible," She waved them out, ignoring the Consort's contrite appearance, and leaned back on the bedding.
Finally, one of the guards entered and said, "The El Mahdy matriarch has received your message. She will be here shortly."
"Be sure to keep watch," she warned. "I have no qualms with a post-wedding execution."
"Of course, your Highness," the guard said as he kneeled before he marched out. His muffled voice shouted orders.
The door opened, and Khaemwaset, with the El Mahdy Matriarch, entered the room. Her son's hooded figure and quiet nature as of late was worrisome but not surprising. The Empress' Consort had aimed so high for rank that she ignored that the state of a marriage mattered more. Likewise, her old friend appeared troubled but no less able-minded or able-bodied.
She wasted no time informing them, "I will be shipping out Afolabi Cissé, my son-in-law, and Akhutenan, my grandson, within the next few days. They are working mainly on behalf of Sonhrai's needs. This should be clear. The Crown Prince and Jata Niara, within the several months, will follow once our reconnaissance is successful. Are those terms amenable?"
Her old friend agreed, nodding ruefully, "The war-ready ships and boats will be here by tomorrow evening, much in the likeness of the ones used in our earlier battles. Has the French clan's patriarch replied?"
"He has been given notice, but this does not require his approval."
"We will be ready then."
She sighed as the logistics of the war had fully begun to take shape. They needed ships, laborers on the ships, knowledgeable sailors, supplies, and the destinations that would shelter their people in the meantime.
El Mahdy had great craftsmen. She would require the support of the Sarakhs and Reviere for sailors and supplies, respectively. The destinations would have to be shared only amongst her most trusted. And these following days would decide that.
Her main worries stemmed from Carolingian clerics and religious figures backed by their mercenaries. Many of them had taken over lands, handing them over to relatives to increase their titles and status.
"Who will you have leading them?"
"One of your royal guards has been promoted under your guidance, I believe," the Matriarch smiled. "Nwaijaku will be good for the position. I hope that this is to your tastes."
"Jata Niara has a personal interest in her success," She nodded and then clapped her hand on her knee. "I believe in the same. Reviere should have received the requests for supplies. Let me know if we require more suppliers or if anything can't be completed to request."
"Of course, your Highness."
She gestured for her old friend to leave.
When the door closed, Khaemwaset was left behind. His posture never faltered, and he didn't complain as he would've done before his marriage. She leaned forward and said, "This isn't a formal discussion. This is simply between you and your manye."
His posture relaxed and face formed a pout with his upturned braids tilted, much in the way she remembered when he was young.
"Why are you shipping off my husband?"
"In punishment," she replied as Khaemwaset raised his head. "I have heard rumors that he spits on the floor you walk on and discusses second marriages rather than concubines. You are my main consort's child; when he disrespects you, then he disrespects me. And I don't respond well to disrespect."
"He--I know how to handle concubines and second wives," Khaemwaset said with distaste. "I don't wish to damage your relations with Minister Babatu."
"Babatu wanted this marriage as much as your abani did," she sighed before waving him over. Khaemwaset tucked against her side and she patted his cheeks, humming as she held him close. "You are the first of my sons to be married off. If you need anything, and I care little for Babatu's regard in that, you will inform me. You understand?"
"Will you allow me to follow him to the Carolingian later?"
She blinked at her son and then said, "You would lack all the comforts of our empire."
"I hope to--convince him of my value along the way."
She could see that he had been planning for such a thing for quite a long while but this would be dangerous.
"I will send you as a delegate and representative of the envoy with the Crown Prince," she sighed. "Follow your sister's orders when she arrives. Before then, listen to Akhutenan. Your husband is not the one whose decision ends it all."
Khaemwaset pulled away and then kneeled with a shoulder bow.
"I will do our dynasty proud."