The sound echoed in the halls.
Her Imperial Mother had turned away while servants and the Empress's Consort stared her down. The omega's hand was still raised in the air after its mark left what felt like an indent on her cheek.
"You dare accuse me of treason," the Empress' Consort hissed. His usual placating and humoring smile was gone from his face. "Where would you be without my actions? Married to a rat from the Carolingian or espoused to a screeching thing from the Zhuong."
When Jata Niara first walked into the room, she saw the Empress' Consort fanned by his line of servants as the Empress listened to her servants recite missives. It didn't appear to be a trap.
It appeared safe.
Therefore, her request to help lead the charge in the battle against the Carolingian Empire on behalf of the Sonhrai should've been safe.
But, the servants bowed their heads, and the Empress' Consort snapped her head at her entrance as if on edge, and Jata Niara kneeled on the ground, unlike how she was required to greet her own omega father, as if in penance for being born from the wrong womb.
The Empress' Consort was the omega father of them all, after all.
Servants snatched her at the shoulder, holding her down, and the Empress' Consort swung his palm flat against her face. The room was quiet, and nothing, not even her Imperial Mother, spoke a word.
"Do you know how long your Imperial Mother toiled to bring this dynasty into peace and wealth?" The Empress' Consort sniffed as he held his closed hand to his chest, both in disgust and vindication. "Only for you to clamor for attention within the eyes of our enemy. Don't you have shame?"
Jata Niara thought the same of him and shrugged off the servants, who stumbled back from the rough shiver like a lion shaking off the rain. She said, "I have only spoken to those of our alliance. The only moment I wandered was to the ship occupied by--"
The Empress cleared her throat and wrapped her hand over the shoulder of the Empress Consort's. "That is something we can speak of privately. I think she's innocent of whatever gossip has found its way to your ears. I doubt she was accusing my ministers of collusion, especially with Babatu."
It seemed her Imperial Mother hadn't informed him of her connections with Akira Lin. What could've been a weapon at Jata Niara's side was rendered useless as a weak shield used to protect the Empress' Consort instead.
The Empress' Consort couldn't be committing treason, or so was the Empress.
She always thought the Empress' Consort had the face of a bird, sharp eyes, and an even sharper nose, with the sleek acuity of a hunter. His eyes veered on Jata Niara before he smirked, lips curving like a scythe, as he said, "Has she told you of her guarded meetings with the Prince? Another secret, I imagine, she waited to spring upon us at her leisure. Her grandfather was found slinking around the slave quarters again, even as he was ordered to leave. What is it then? Were you meeting the Prince or your grandfather illegally?"
Her Imperial Mother's mouth twisted as if she knew but disapproved greatly. It was not as if any of the things required any grounded fact, but the truth remained that she carried a long history of working with foreigners. And the Orakpo would always be known for dirtying hands in ways no one else was willing to.
Being trusted under such lofty biases was difficult.
"As a nephew of our family," Jata Niara said calmly and then kneeled. "I thought to offer him advice on how to enrich the Sonhrai Empire and appeal to his needs."
These things formed a grand beast that Jata Niara would have to fight every day for the rest of her life.
And she could see the image of the beast in her Imperial Mother's eyes instead of her own as distaste sat on her face.
"You often disappear along the ports, though; it can't be helped that you meet them by accident or in random occurrences then," the Empress' Consort added with a sigh. "So many new adventures I've heard about you lately. I'm sure they're all exaggerations, as you've suggested. You've certainly grown past the mistakes of your youth."
What she had done as a child that few people outside of the Casas, the El Mahdy, and Babatu knew was an axe hanging over her neck.
Swinging down on the Empress' Consort's whim.
It wasn't about the foreign prince and princess.
It was about the suggestion.
"Well," her Imperial Mother smiled as she gestured for her servants to leave. "She will be busy with her new marriage. A war can be handled by any in our royal family, even nobility. We ought to hurry lest she's late for her own ceremony."
"Babatu Cissé's son has studied their war strategies for years," was heard even from Jata Niara's kneeled position.
"Ah, that is good news!"
With those words and the grand shared exit with her Imperial Mother and the Empress' Consort, she knew she had lost this round. As her knees dug into the cold stone, the pain prodded at her bone.
She gritted her teeth, acknowledging she had not only lost, but now her Imperial Mother thought any action made from then on from the Empress' Consort on Jata Niara were the acts of a concerned sovereign warding off foreign invasion.
Jata Niara had become the foreigner.
Nathaniel was not surprised by the fact that his brother was avoiding him. What he was surprised by was how shy his husband had become in his absence. His burly form, gnashing glare, and lined skin didn't stop him from blushing when he reached for his hand, leading him into the quaint Sonhrai eatery.
Walls were painted in glittering seashells, no less beautiful than jewels, and crystals lined their edges. The people who walked in were no less elegant in the sweeping robes and bodies bogged down with jewelry and bright colors. They found enough seating for the four of them, although his in-laws still hadn't finished their weekly meeting with the shopkeeper. He knew his in-laws were investors, but he hadn't known how thorough such work was. His parents tended to push the work on guildsmen, who were more comfortable with haggling and making purchases than handling it themselves.
His husband gestured for him to sit first and then said, as they settled in, "Are you offended that your brother hasn't visited you yet?"
"No," Nathaniel frowned. "We'll be returning on the ship together. He won't be able to avoid me then. Besides, I hear there's a wedding today. If it's anything like home, as a dignitary, he'll be busy enough."
Titus cleared his throat and then awkwardly searched around the restaurant as if he weren't allowed to make commentary, so Nathaniel motioned for one of the workers to take their order. It was meant to be a quick meal, but after a bit of waiting with his in-laws, nowhere to be seen, he decided to start the conversation again as a delicate cup with steaming tea was placed before him.
"Where have you been?"
Those heavy words settled in the air. The others in the eatery wore various styles of clothing, hairstyles, and jewelry. Many of them appeared from places far away and were in and of themselves more distracting than the conversation they were having.
No one would be listening in.
Titus frowned and then crossed his arms. "I was making a name for myself. Not adding accolades to the flashy name I was born with."
"Does Orellano appear flashy to you?"
"Maybe not to a French, it's not."
"Is that why you disappeared? My name was too much."
"No," Titus pursed his lips. "It's not about your family name."
"Is it about our names together, then?"
Titus went quiet, but his lips twisted.
Nathaniel's hand tightened on the table, but he kept his smile light. It shouldn't have hurt his feelings that Titus liked him, but just not enough.
"I could raise the child alone," Nathaniel said, and it was like icicles pierced his chest that not even steaming tea could melt. "You wouldn't have to worry. You could even pretend we don't exist, but us not having a child will cause more issues for us than not."
"Do you know who my father is?" Titus said and then lowered his voice as he leaned forward. "Who he really is?"
"A Captain. Or General now?"
Titus waved his hand. "My omega father. Do you know who he is?"
He blinked at the words.
For several months, he had been close to the older omega, learning recipes from him, reading from his collection of books, and watching as he described the purposes behind the various scales of fish. Ahanu Orellano is wonderfully intelligent and interesting. At his engagement, he feared a bored life within the Orellano household and was delightfully surprised by the many things Ahanu did in his free time. His French name allowed little leeway. It was made worse by his omega father's claim to nobility, which was an unspoken and notably absent truth that everyone knew existed but could not explain.
Most of his life was spent making up for that absence.
"Your father."
Titus sighed heavily and then added, "He was born in the noble and royal line of the Lapita."
"Lapita?" Nathaniel blinked but refused to argue about a people and kingdom he had never heard of before. "I thought he was from the east."
"He says that to avoid discussion," Titus said, and then his eyes wandered off to a Zhuong caravan passing by. "The Zhuong's ministers and soldiers surveyed their ocean borders and found my father's people living on a mountain of minerals. They sought to have those minerals for themselves. Lapita people refused to destroy their entire mountains and offered a small portion out of compromise."
"The Zhuong refused."
Titus nodded. "They slaughtered them all. Those who survived had built boats and sails of superior build to the Zhuong's ships. Those people wandered out to sea at speeds the Zhuong never caught up to, but those who were left behind were not so lucky."
"Like your father."
"My father was relegated to a kidnapped hostage of the Zhuong empire, neither nobility nor a Prince, eventually sold to the Campgrounds like a gift," Titus spat at the ground. "I can't imagine if my father hadn't been the one to meet him. We're not meant to be gifts to the Carolingian Empire."
"So you see our marriage," Nathaniel said slowly. "As a punishment? A cruel, mean thing that your family doesn't deserve."
"Just because you're a good person," Titus said coldly. "Doesn't mean I should waver."
Nathaniel's fingers trailed the handle of the teacup, but he had nothing to say in reply. Time passed before he emerged from the mindless wandering of his thoughts. He exhaled sharply, "This isn't like them," Nathaniel paused as his eyes peered around the streets, but no one appeared like the sort of people who would kidnap an older couple. "We should check on them. The shopkeeper would know."
"I don't interrupt them during their meetings."
Titus was so resolute about those words.
He couldn't tell what part of what he said was more hilarious. Perhaps it was his sharp tone, his shrugging gesture, or the boredom in his eyes.
The words were final, and Nathaniel couldn't change his mind. So, he felt laughter crack through his face, and Titus responded with a twisted look as his eyes looked around searchingly. No one paid them any mind, but the rogue still hunched forward.
This laughter was powerful. It was the sort of laughter that trembled through his ribs, up his throat, and like grim, bony hands stretched up around his throat, choking him as tears spouted from his eyes. He couldn't tell if it was due to numbness, pain, or the sort of reaction he wasn't trained to recognize in all that highbred male omega tutelage.
What could Titus understand? When he thought Nathaniel was incapable of existing.
"I'm not a person to you, am I?" Nathaniel broke out, and the laughter bubbled out again. He slid out of his chair. He thumbed the salty wetness staining his cheeks and flicked it away. "I will be at the Campgrounds. If you wish to dissolve this marriage, you are free to do so. If not, I suggest you find time for us to do what is required of us. Preferably multiple appointments before I leave so that I can at least pretend that we tried."
As soon as his foot touched the outside, his eyes caught a familiar shape hooded as it rode a camel through the road. His eyes trailed behind where the Campgrounds stood, but he was exhausted. He followed the slow trudging camel instead, pushing through the crowd of people slowly clogging up the road as he walked further and further down. His hands finally reached close enough to wave through the peripheral of the hooded figure, who turned his head to the side and hissed, "Nate?"
"Is that you, Casas?" Nathaniel leaned forward as the camel stopped its trudging. "I thought you were loose in the desert, desperate and dehydrated. A ringing warning to all male omegas who fail their duty."
"My uncle likes to exaggerate," the hooded figure lightly removed the hood, showing the face of Micah Casas, the new Commander's son and nephew of Enzo Casas. "Not that he's one to talk. How did you get here? Your rogue husband gave you the runaround. Again."
"Yes and no," Nathaniel looked back and then stared at Micah. "Are you going somewhere?"
Micah sputtered out, "Of course not, I'm just--there's a wedding going on, and, what can I say, I'm curious."
"Take me with you," he begged, and his eyes fell over the distance downhill where what looked like Titu's stumbling figure. "It seems the Orellano family is--bored with me. And I'm simply bored, in general."
Micah grinned. "Ah, well then, you can be my cover, and I will be your cover."
"Agreed."
Nathaniel hooked onto the back of the camel saddle and wrapped around Micah's waist as he lifted his hood back up. He could hear a noise that could've been the shouts of Titus in the distance, but he refused to acknowledge what had to be a fever dream.
There was nothing about Titus that could be interested in anything of Nathaniel's. What felt like the slow walk of a turtle led to them arriving at the palace of the imperial family of Sonhrai.
Micah gestured to one of the guards as his camel was pulled aside. A woman alpha spun around the corner as if by magic, as her eyes caught Micah and his form. She wore swords at the side and clothing, unlike the other guards, with gold decorating her uniform and paint over her skin.
"You look formal today," Micah said to the alpha.
The alpha pinched her nose. "No."
"I only wish to see my rival, Nwai, please," Micah said again and then leaned forward, whispering something Nathaniel couldn't hear.
The alpha clicked her tongue. "A nickname in my language is not a nickname in yours." and then gestured to the guards to take them back to their camel. "You shouldn't be here. I suggest you leave at once."
As guards pressed in on them, it felt like it was make or break. The words stumbled out of his mouth like marbles, and he imagined the fever dream may have transformed into a nightmare.
"I'm here to see my brother," Nathaniel spoke up with a shy hand. He felt they had to get in no matter what. In particular, if this was a nightmare, there would be no repercussions. "Akhutenan."
The woman reared back as if struck and then sighed again. A sound that was similar to a wounded fox. "The Empress will be angered if I prevent you from entering."
Micah blinked, and then a broad smile stretched across his face, the sort of big grin that pulled at the eyes and cheeks. It scared Nathaniel into rethinking his current life choices. The Casas said, "It would be a great dishonor if she was unable to meet her grandchild."
"I'm sorry--I--what?" Nathaniel giggled. His hand covered his mouth when the honest laughter yanked out of his chest. "I think you--you shouldn't be making jokes like that. This is a royal guard."
What should've been a sneaky bout of curiosity turned into him being led by Micah before being pulled into a dressing room with foreign servants where his clothing, which wasn't cheap, mind you, was tossed aside for a formal robe with twisted linings of glimmering stones. They painted his eyes but not his skin.
Each and every one of the rooms was carved in thick designs that led him to run his fingers along. His interests had never been in the buildings or their materials. Still, lush fabrics, intricate decorations, and furniture built of wood he had never seen, scented with aromas he wished to pocket for himself.
Micah clarified as he was also dressed by servants but in a similar dress to the royal servants, "You haven't technically been fully acknowledged by the Empress, but your omega father was. And that's enough to give you a foothold here."
"I don't understand," Nathaniel said aloud as he thought this could be a nightmare, but, for right now, it felt like a very, very strange dream. Perhaps he had gotten drunk, and this is a hallucination from those effects. "I think you should tell me how you know this much. Or why. Or when this all happened."
"It was before I arrived, but my uncle told me it was a big thing, an entire event where the politics boiled to a point with only one solution," Micah added as he straightened Nathaniel's robes. "It's the reason the Crown Prince was able to gain allies in this kingdom. Not sure it would have been so easy otherwise."
Nathaniel noted that Micah's touches on the fabric were not envious but certainly covetous. "Why did they dress you like that?"
"Because that is what I am to the royal family," Micah sighed as his eyes drew on the crystals again. "For now, anyway. Follow me. I have an idea where--"
The royal guard burst into the hallway as soon as they pushed the curtain aside. "I will be your escort for the entirety of the wedding. You won't need to have an idea."
"Nwaijaku," Micah whined. "Couldn't you do your job elsewhere?"
"I think I'm fine where I'm at," Nwaijaku said with a hmph. "I suggest you listen, or I'll kick you out faster than--"
"Egwu adiro atu afo, oburu uzo," Micah said to the guard. His eyes were pleading this time with his hands raised. "I know you understand my position."
It was something Nathaniel couldn't translate or hadn't heard before.
"Fine," the royal guard snapped. "But be warned, the situation is not good for Jata Niara right now. If you make things worse, you will have nothing but death to gain."
Micah nodded as he clutched Nathaniel's arm, and the royal guard's figure grew smaller and smaller until they turned around the corner of the palace into an open area where the inner courtyard could be seen from their position. The arches split into more arches as granite coated the floors in geometric shapes, twisting down solid stone staircases with thick sides for banisters.
A figure floated below them, trailed by servants dressed in intricate gemmed robes behind him. Briefly, he caught the figure and noted the colors and paints upon his body with gems and jewelry coating every length of his skin, trailing over his face in a fringe with only his light honeyed brown eyes poking through.
Micah froze at his side, and his hold on Nathaniel's shoulder tightened.
"What did you say to the royal guard?" He asked Micah as his hands patted Micah's clenched hand. "I hadn't heard those words in that order before. Fear doesn't like the stomach?"
"It meant there's nothing to be frightened of if you face it head-on," Micah said lowly. "Not that I know anything."
Nathaniel sighed in relief as Micah's tight hold loosened. "I'm guessing that's your rival."
The other absentmindedly nodded before leading him back down the stairway. As they wandered the palace halls, they found themselves following the sound of voices until Nathaniel caught the tone of his brother near the courtyard floors.
"He has to be over there," Nathaniel pointed as they pushed through the halls into the next section of the palace, where the rooms were covered and lacked archways. It wasn't dark, but there was a distinct lack of light without the square openings above them raining down on them. They found a group of legionnaires and a few familiar faces from the Campgrounds, including his brother.
Akhutenan held an omega at his side, pretty with long lashes, and Nathaniel knew the rumors that reached their ears were true. His omega father would tear him a new one. He also saw that his brother was smiling bright in such a way he hadn't ever seen him do as he nuzzled, almost disgustingly sweet, into the omega's side.
Ignorance would be the best course of action in a situation like this.
"Brother!" He shouted, and Akhutenan twisted around with a smile on his face as he rushed over; Micah huddled at his side as his father stood there at the shoulder of Akhutenan without recognizing Micah's form. "You wouldn't imagine the things I heard."
"You're dressed like a royal," Akhutenan blinked. "And this servant of yours--?"
"I told a royal guard you were my brother and then reminded me to dress properly," Nathaniel shrugged. "I presume to wake up from this strange dream when everything has played itself out."
Akhutenan laughed. "I'm not sure you'll like what you find when all the pieces have fallen into place."
Nathaniel nearly retorted but blinked at the quintessential Akhutenan response that was. His mind couldn't be that creative? No. No. It had to be that he was still hallucinating.
"I have heard kind and good things about you, Nathaniel," the sickeningly sweet omega said. "It wasn't without great effort that I tried to push your brother to visit."
Nathaniel shoved down the wave of correctional training he had been given, reminding him to be grateful and apologize as its overwhelming strength sickened his stomach sour. "He doesn't have to. It's fine." His eyes trailed off to the bright entrance of the palace at the end of the hall. He hadn't seen the bright lights of the outside since they had wandered into the deeper interior of the palace. "We can go to the wedding together."
The omega touched his shoulder, and he flinched.
"You can call me Donte," he said carefully and then intertwined his hand with his own. "Pretend that I'm merely your guide."
"I thought you were my partner for the evening," Akhutenan cut in, and the other legionnaires laughed. "I've been pushed out by my brother, then."
Donte fluttered his eyes and then said, "The wedding should be beginning soon." as he gently tugged him through the bright doorway.
The light blinded Nathaniel until he could see dancing, drums, and conversation amongst those dressed in thick jewelry, furs, woven robes, and various paints and designs upon their skin. Laughter and the sounds of beads clicking like music before a figure dressed in a flourished robe and hat upon his head with paint coloring his eyes. Crowds huddled up, pressing against each other as they tried to listen in.
Everyone silenced.
"My daughter," the figure said, "is to be married into a great family, one headed by Babatu Cissé, with my own son married to his heir. A family rich in wealth and will honor the Imperial family as dutiful guardians to our people's interests."
Micah huddled at his shoulder and then whispered, "Isn't Babatu Cissé one of the Empress' political hands?"
He nodded and then heard a wary sigh escape the other's mouth.
Donte motioned for them to be silent as the figure continued to speak.
"Jata Niara, Princess of the Molokhiyya Dynasty, will--"
The words muffled into white noise as the ceremony began. He recognized the adorned figure from earlier, entering the dais with an alpha, and imagined it to be the princess, dressed like a warrior with weapons, furs, jewelry, shells, and animal teeth.
It wasn't long before voices grew loud again as music strummed up and the vows had been given, or what appeared to be their version of vows.
The married couple warded off to the northern quarters.
His eyes caught multiple figures of the royal family divided, separated from the rest of the crowd, with a few guards clinging to them as they split off. Then, he saw the Empress' face and felt his own grow pale.
Why did it remind him of his omega father?
"Oh, look, they're sharing the food," Micah said at his side.
Donte argued, blocking Micah's route towards the northern quarters, "You should make your escape before you're seen. I can take care of Nathaniel. You've had your fun. Do you feel better now that you've seen?"
"Not in the least," Micah sighed.
"Exactly."
Donte and Micah continued to squabble as the royal family stood out to Nathaniel like a lantern. His feet pulled him forward as if by some unnatural force; perhaps it was spirits or the ancestors they had spoken to during the ceremony.
Perhaps those ancestors that they both shared.
He froze.
No.
He was no gift.
There was no reward in his acknowledgment.
His feet twisted around when his head bumped into a figure. His eyes trailed over the robes of someone who wore the dress of someone distinctly Zhuong. He tried looking for his brother among the splinters of the legionnaires, but he couldn't find him. When he attempted to turn around, the male alpha blocked him off.
He could tell by the fabric and those who stood behind him that the alpha was no simple man. His eyes peered down in curiosity instead of meanness as he expected.
"You are of the royal family, yes?" the man said in choppy Djemme, the language of Sonhrai.
Nathaniel replied in Qin, "I don't know, but I won't be able to introduce you."
"No worries!" the man said as he waved a servant over. "These are wedding gifts, but I have been unable to get through. Perhaps you can?"
He furrowed his brow but then shrugged.
It wasn't like any of this was real.
Nathaniel sucked in a deep breath and then gestured for the Zhuong man's servant to follow him as he carried what looked like a jade leopard. The division between the crowd and the imperial family was like a warning. It felt like the splitting of an ocean, and he was walking through the center, but the only person he led was himself.
Guards ignored him as if he actually were a part of the royal family. As he met the royal guards, with Nwaijaku as one of them, he uncomfortably said to them, the two princes, two princesses, and what looked like three consorts or other relatives, "There is a gift from a Zhuong representative. This jade leopard here."
At this moment, Nwaijaku, the Empress, and another figure was pulled aside. Any sort of communication he planned on saving himself would be all for naught as he faced a group of strangers.
"The Crown Prince," the guard mumbled at his side.
Nathaniel repeated, realizing he may have made a horrible mistake, "The Crown Prince--of Zhuong."
One of the consorts, dressed in what appeared to be the highest status among them, said, with insincerity dripping off every word, "We don't like being handed things directly, especially from strangers. Who are you again?"
"Nathaniel," he said, and then he could tell the guard behind him was frightened by the atmosphere. The consort smiled at the response but said nothing else while one of the other consorts sighed loudly.
"We're not going to humor him, are we?"
The third consort said soothingly, "There's no reason to be cruel."
Now he divided the consorts by Janus, the god with two faces, the Bully, and the Palibarides, jewelry that symbolizes rank.
"Kneel," one of the Princess' said with a nod from Janus. "And hold the sculpture above your head as we decide whether to ask our servants to accept it."
Nathaniel could tell they had no intent on accepting the gift. He had somehow stumbled on a political faux pas. He kneeled as the jade leopard fell in his open palm, teetering his whole body over. He stood upright before he could fall but scraped his knee against the stone flooring. It had to be bleeding as he winced at the pain.
It was as heavy as it looked. Heavier now that he held it above his head.
"You realize you're dressed in clothing unbefitting of your status," Janus scolded. "This is the only proper punishment since we can't remove your limbs during a wedding."
The other princes were distracted by their food, and the extra princess appeared enthralled by whatever whispered words Palibarides said.
"I didn't," Nathaniel said as his arms shook from the weight above his shoulders. "Someone else dressed me."
"This person must hate you," the Bully retorted and then waved his hand. "That makes you a fool and a fake. Nothing to be done about you except to remove you. You're ruining my daughter's wedding."
He wasn't sure if it was bravery or bravado, but as the guards closed in, he blurted out, "How is Akhutenan related to the Empress? They look nothing alike."
The consorts snapped to attention, and then Janus gestured one of the guards to yank the statue out from his hand while another grasped his large hand around his jaw as if to twist his neck.
"You speak of things you shouldn't," Janus said slowly with eyes sharp like daggers. "All things considered, we're well within our rights to get rid of you discretely."
"Wait--!" Nathaniel tried grappling out of the guard's hold, but the man was a mountain. None of his movements budged a limb. "I wasn't--!"
As he felt the twitch of the guard's wrist, he closed his eyes, expecting never to open them again, when he heard the voice of Donte shout, "Wait! He's Akhutenan's brother!"
The guard dropped him, and Nathaniel felt his body plummet to the ground as the guard must've slowly raised his body up in the air without him realizing. His chest was beating through his ribs, and his lungs burned as air rushed in.
Donte clutched his shoulders and said, "Nathaniel! Listen, can you see me? Hear me?"
He blearily blinked and then said, "Not the worst nightmare I've ever had."
And his eyes closed completely.