Do Better By You

[selenias]

Do Better By You

 

When Nailah imagined the forest Rafiel had described so fully to her, she had to wonder whether she had been listening carefully enough or not, as the forests weren't near as prominently green as she had been expecting. Aside from the caked bundles of frosted vegetation beneath her heals, the moss and lichen draping off the branches of trees like stiff graying skeletons, nothing conspicuously or so potently enough to be described as 'green' or 'lush' came to mind as she observed.

Perhaps the pine needles frosted to the bark of an oak contributed, but she was sure it wasn't what Rafiel had ever had in mind.

He was rocking on his heels silently, amicable green eyes holding a certain kind of expectancy. She merely raised an eyebrow in inquiry, before realizing he was waiting for her to speak. What was there to say?

“For a forest, I'd say it's healthier than most,” she stalled, cautiously trying to pick her way around the mine field she had surely just set for herself. He hardly looked defused from her comment, his exuberance of being home surely having something to do with the soft smile he returned her.

If he only was as attentive here as he was when I found him, perhaps our roles wouldn't be so different.

“It is, isn't it? This is one of the parts of Serenes that was never touched by the fire. I'm amazed that it's simply in as good of shape as it is with most of my clan deceased... it's survived without our aid all these years...” Rafiel drifted, and she watched him slip further from her grasp.

Leaves crunched under foot and Nailah didn't have to turn her head to recognize the new company. Rafiel was still walking through the brush ahead of her, robes catching on branches and sharp jabbing needles, oddly enough indifferent in regards to the fact that he'd abandoned her to the mercy of their guide.

I doubt he'd even notice if the sky was falling, at this point. He's completely and utterly absorbed in this place...

Tormod gave a low appreciative whistle, his grin nearly as bright as his hair. Certainly, the similarities were blatant, and temporarily at one point Nailah had cautioned herself around him, less he spontaneously combusted from all the hyperactivity he seemed to produce where ever he tended to wander, Muarim and Vika trailing behind him both with an attentive countenance—and she half expected a bucket of cold water, as well.

She disregarded him with a once over, lips curled down from boredom rather than irritation, though obviously the cloud of darkness she way trying to emit didn't dissuade him as much as she would have hoped for.

“Reyson's going to get a kick out of this! He's gonna go berserk when he sees his brother again.” Tormod was staring at Rafiel in more interest than Nailah thought appropriate, and she clenched her teeth to present herself from snapping out something unbefitting of a queen. Maybe Micaiah and Sothe had standards, but she was still building hers.

“When you say 'beserk', I hope you mean in a metaphorical sense. I would rather not be forced to drag his brother off him, if I can help it.” Nailah watched Rafiel wander further ahead, the contentedness emanating like a gentle humming shadow, following his every step and leaving glowing patches in his wake. All the grace he'd ever lacked seemed to have recollected within him the moment they'd entered Serenes—and hadn't seen fit to deserve him yet.

This is certainly a side of him I haven't witnessed before...

Tormod gave her a bizarre look, hands shoved deep within the pockets of his shorts as he kicked a small rock further ahead in Rafiel's general direction. Nailah was tempted to smack him upside the head with his expression. It was almost verging on insulting. “Why would you do that?” he asked in confusion. “I thought you were all for Rafiel's happiness.”

“His happiness, not his demise,” she corrected. “As long as his brother's weight doesn't crush him to death, I'm not concerned.” The boy spluttered for a moment before bursting out in laughter, and Nailah expectantly waited for his hair to start smoking.

“Ha! Reyson? Nah... he broke his fist three years ago after punching Duke Tanas in the face. I don't think he could do much damage to Rafiel without getting injured himself. It's a possibility, I suppose, though I really was simply joking about Reyson...”

Nailah blinked. “Duke Tanas...?”

Tormod's cheeks heated abashedly, and he drew a hand from his pocket to scratch at the back of his neck, eyes wandering. “Oh—right, sorry. I keep assuming you know everything but then I have to remind myself you're not actually from around here...” Despite his apology, she still stiffened.

I'm hardly ignorant. Rafiel's provided more than enough information to draw valid conclusions from.

“...Duke Tanas is from Begnion, correct? Of the Tanas estate?” She murmured it softly, eyes focused on Rafiel several yards ahead, paused at a large oak with branches as high as Daein's first four castle floors. A part of her didn't want to expose him to their conversation, she realized solemnly, no matter the fact that it did seem only proper.

If proper accounts for bringing about a guilty conscience, then I want nothing to do with it.

“...Lady Nailah? How did you know that?” Tormod was staring at her suspiciously, frolicsome demeanor abandoned as quickly as it had come. “I thought you mentioned earlier you didn't know much about the nations of Tellius?

She frowned seriously. “I don't. The only things I know are what I have been told. Rafiel mentioned the estates of the senators in Begnion, when we passed the border.”

He looked embarrassed. “Oh. Well then... I keep forgetting that he was here before as well...”

Nailah watched Tormod drop back after a few moments, leaving her alone with her own thoughts as he conversed quietly with his other companions. No doubt telling them of her knowledge of a nation she'd never even inhabited before. Her so-called wisdom as the Queen of Hatari.

That was simply dumb-luck. Sooner or later, they'll know the truth.

Revealing that she was as lost as he was not a status she wanted to acknowledge.

Not yet.

–

She woke to a cold hand resting lightly on her wrist, thin bones shaking her softly in a manner firm yet amiable. Nailah's lips twitched and she stretched, turning her palm in such a way from twenty-three years of practice that it collapsed against his own brusquely, and she heard his low laugh before she felt his breath defrost a frozen cheek bone.

“Good morning,” he murmured. She simply smiled, not awake enough to be hesitant nor care about the affection she so openly returned. He looked momentarily surprised, but the expression passed as quickly as it came, and she temporarily wondered if she had even seen it at all.

Let them all see how it is between us.

Rafiel tugged gently, prompting her to dismiss her weariness. “Nailah?”

“Hm?”

“I believe you should look around...”

She half expected there to be intruders or a wild animal entering the premises when she obediently cracked open a single lowly eyelid again, but the only thing that filled her mind was blankness.

Wonderful... Another obstacle I hadn't thought to account for...

“Snow...?”

“Yes.” Rafiel seemed bemused by her perplexity. “Pretty, isn't it?”

An endless amount of what resembled shredded paper birches drifted in and out of branches, caught on leaves like dandelion seeds, and clung in heavy flakes to her eyelashes, lumped together like a mass of spun cotton. She released Rafiel's hand to pull herself up, and without hesitation scooped a small palmful of the blinding whiteness off one of the tree's lowest branches behind her. It shimmered prettily like a handful of crystal shards, only... it shouldn't have begun to melt.

I shouldn't be surprised, considering what he's told me. That's simply poor memory on my account.

She cocked an eyebrow at Rafiel. “Its looks are deceitful. It doesn't appear as though it should be as cold as it is.”

“Snow is... something like that.”

“Elaborate?”

He smiled again, and briefly Nailah wondered if this time it wasn't because he knew something she, the Queen of the Wolves, Queen of Hatari, Queen of Victory—did not.

She dismissed it immediately. He was nothing if not virtuous. A saint. An innocent among innocents.

“Snow takes on the form of frozen water. From that perspective... I suppose it is pretending to be something it's truly not.”

Sounds familiar.

“Hm.” Nailah turned her hand and watched silently as it slid off her now numb fingertips, sinking back into the upturned earth in a slushy heap. “It does have those properties...” Her ears twitched, and Nailah glanced upward, blinking and brushing away the flakes that landed where they shouldn't have upon her warm skin:

Everywhere.

In the desert, the only thing she ever had to blink away was sand...

–

When Tormod started speaking specifically about the political turmoil plaguing Begnion, (the Senators behind it all, he had proclaimed) the civil war corrupting Crimea from the inside out, and the murdered envoy from the hawk laguz nation of Phoenicis—Nailah realized she was going to have to admit it eventually, no matter whether she wished to or not.

She knew absolutely nothing—and Rafiel was slowly proving to be no exception.

“Queen Elincia?” Rafiel mirrored her expression, only his exasperation wasn't nearly as grating as her own incompetence. “I believe Micaiah may have mentioned her once or twice, but she doesn't sound very familiar... She's wasn't a heir to the Crimean throne, was she? Her governing sounds similar to King Ramone's, though I thought he never had any children. Unless, in my absence...”

Tormod gave Muarim and Vika both level looks, before glancing back at Rafiel, mouth tugged down in a frown for once.

“Actually, Rafiel... long story short... Queen Elincia's a heir, alright. King Ramone's hidden daughter, to be exact. Though, I wouldn't expect you to know considering you've been gone since...” Tormod paused and cleared his throat awkwardly, tugging at his robes. “...It's simply been a while, I mean—you've been gone for over two decades!”

Boy lacks tact.

Rafiel simply frowned. “Whatever happened to that one man—the brother—Prince Renning? He had been in line for the throne, hadn't he?”

Tormod nodded sagely, “Yeah, he was—until he got butchered by King Ashnard during the beginning of the war three years ago, and the rest of the remaining family before him. Though, his body was never found...”

“You're not suggesting that he's still alive, are you?”

“Ah... not exactly. It's just a commonly known fact. He was simply never recovered from battle.”

...Our stupidity was expected the moment we were discovered. Is that simply 'just a fact' as well?

Nailah glowered stiffly at the snow, willing it to melt faster so she'd see something familiar beneath her feet. She felt Rafiel's eyes fall on her, a silent question hidden there, and she immediately realized her disgust with herself was becoming more tangible than she had intended.

“Nailah?”

“It's nothing, Rafiel,” she murmured.

I can't protect you when I know nothing. At this rate, our roles will be reversed...

Muarim and Vika glanced up when she spoke, but neither dared say a word, and Tormod continued speaking, oblivious to the entire near silent exchange that took place before him. “...I can tell you more about the wars if you want, Rafiel, though, while there's a lot to tell... it may help pass the time?”

By the time Rafiel and herself had been fully educated, the snow she'd been coaxing to melt away had at last disappeared. Only, it wasn't sand or soil that lurked beneath it.

Instead, dead vegetation stared up at her will sodden eyes, and from a mere stranger as one time it was now turning into a commonality. She wasn't sure whether to be appreciative, or concerned.

Neither sounded like an option.

Just another fact.

–

“My Queen? I hope you do not mind me asking, but... are you all right? You aren't usually this unsocial around others and... I'm rather concerned about it.”

I wouldn't ever mind you.

She looked him evenly in the eye, expression naturally weary.

“It's late, Rafiel, and I simply don't feel like talking.” His face crumpled, and alarmed, she hastily thought of something to soften her unintentionally sharp words. An alternate reason by honest means. “...I suspect our companions are used to rising before the sun. We don't want to be a hindrance when they've been taking the time to aid us—to give up passage... That's all”

I don't want to be a hindrance.

The sun was low, and Rafiel's shadow cast gray strangers along the frosted ground, each with a pair of broken wings and an unreadable expression, and he himself a silhouette before the dull dying flames of the fire. To keep out wild animals, Tormod had said, Don't worry, if it relieves any stress, Muarim doesn't particularly like it either. Me? I just don't want to find something gnawing on my head in the middle of the night...

“Under the circumstances, I do not think they would care...”

“Rafiel, I would be bothered,” she finished softly.

He was quiet at last, though his wounded expression said it all.

I'm just as lost as you.

-

There were no warm hands to wake her that morning.

Instead, the sun blinded her where she lay, a thousand brightly lit candles climbing over the endless rills of green forests and indigo clouds to the east. Slowly, she closed her eye and ignored the feeling, willed the pins and needles from stiffness to dissolve and take with it her idiocy, leave a day of wisdom and completeness in its wake.

Some tact would be an exceptionally nice change of pace...

Bracing her arms, she sat up slowly, propping her back against the tree and blinking away the crust around her lashes. Unsurprisingly, a pair of green eyes were already open—and clearly very, very awake.

“Nailah,” he uttered.

“Hm?”

“...You didn't fully expect me to accept your excuse yesterday. Did you.” Rafiel's occasional invasions of space were common—but never once had she ever taken offense to it. Boundaries were hardly something she could enforce against seid magic—and never against a heron.

He can't be bothered to let it lie as it is...

“Rafiel... now is hardly the time,” she started slowly, and his look was condescending and so out of place she simply kept her mouth shut. She knew that look.

It was her own.

“Is there ever truly a right time, Nailah?” For once, remarks deserted her, and it was a perspective she struggled to see him through.

Blinded by my own incompetence... I should have expected this to come back and bite me at some point.

Rafiel frowned. “We both knew there was a vague chance that there would be things that neither of us would understand when we made the journey here... We took that risk, and unfortunately, that is plainly the situation we have been dealt. We promised we'd deal with it—accordingly, if that came to be—which it has, Nailah, it has very much so.”

She closed her eye to avoid the accusation lingering there. Everywhere. My own fault. “Your point?” She breathed.

He was quiet for a long while, and then: “...I can't help if you don't leave me anything to work with...”

It wouldn't be just 'anything'... it would be 'everything'.

“You don't always have to do things alone. Let me help you.”

She didn't respond—because he was wrong.

“It's my duty and my privilege, Rafiel. I wouldn't have it any other way than how it is now.”

“My Queen...” he began, “I am as lost as you.”

“Perhaps... but here... Here... I'm worst than simply lost. There is nothing I can possibly offer you that someone else cannot provide in my place.”

I can't protect you when I don't know even where to start– what then?

He looked astounded. “Nailah, you're scarcely replaceable–”


“Aren't I, though? Would someone else not be able to provide you with care if I weren't there to offer it myself?” Her eyes flashed.

“That would never, “he said it obstinately, “be a realistic situation.”

She knew he had considered it with as much fervor as herself. How he went about it without her knowing the truth of it was a mystery, however.

Blind devotion will be the death of us both, then.

“I don't foresee it coming to that—unless the situation was forced for-for some particular reason–”

“But won't it? See here: it will always be a possibility, Rafiel, whether we like it or not. A war between nations never guarantees survivors—and we're here in the middle of one.”

“Perhaps... but replacements can never truly be justified in comparison to what already existed. I certainly don't need anyone else besides who I already have to feel whole,” he ended it quietly, and Nailah knew the words were aimed at her. “So let me help you be the exception. ...At least allow me that.”

I'm hardly able to do anything as it is.

“Of course not,” she muttered, but her own stubborn expression stared at her from Rafiel's pale face, and she finally acknowledged the truth of it.

He simply thought there were alternatives to every case that transpired with an error—and for her's, always a solution. She was no better trying to protect him than he her. In a country neither of them could express too much knowledge on... it was a fickle thought to think she could stand in the way of that.

“...Fine. We'll be lost together than.”

Rafiel's expression immediately formulated relief. “Thank you...” He smiled softly, and then almost hesitant, he added, “...It is a privilege and an honor, you said... I honestly would not have had it any other way myself.”

Nailah's lips slowly curved into a bemused smile, and she flicked her tail.

“I know. You always get what you want.”

“My Queen... it's only because you give it to me.”

“Hm. I know that, too...”