#465 // Teryte Chronicles: For the Lives That Built Our Nation (Patreon)

This time something from 2 months ago, that I totally forgot to submit! I feel like this artwork fits the Pride month theme better, so nothing was lost! <3 I hope you will enjoy the thane this month, accompanied by a serene story by Aksan, as usual <3

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Wrinkling the well-worn lines around her face, Allison’s bittersweet smile shifted as she sucked her lips and shook her head. Beside her, Iffe arrived with an embrace, nuzzling the older woman’s cheek with her familiar braids. As if her hair and hands were not enough to announce her, the soft sounds of presence and affirmation that the Stonewater maiden used drifted up to Allison, hidden under the murmur of the crowd.

“What warrants all this?” the Krinaale asked, looking down as she returned the affection with a hand stroking her companion’s back.

“You looked like you could use a hug,” Iffe began, holding the line for a moment before the curious expression from Allison diverted her, “Okay, I had no idea what that facial expression meant, but I thought it was a good excuse.”

“As if you need one.”

“Not going to share?” the younger woman questioned, “You don’t have to, but . . .”

A firm squeeze sealed the fate of the dropped sentence as Allison leaned down to point across the throne room. “You see Thane Caerulea there?”

Iffe snorted. “Yuhuh.”

“Stupid question, this is you, and that’s a dragon.”

“Mmhmm.” This affirmative came with a more measured chuckle.

“Well, you see what’s on his arm?”

“The classic bands of ribbon, a representative and expressive form of dress, worn on the arm by Dragons in lieu of other attire in situations where armour and the ilk would be inappropriate,” Iffe took on a sing-song tone as she recited the words, “You act like you don’t know which college it was that Pareth plucked me from.”

“I’m sorry, it’s having Harry around,” the Krinaale apologised, “The dear girl puts me in the mindset of a teacher so easily.”

“And I do rather adore you as the unobtainable schoolmistress.” The final words were barely audible even as they made their subject smile and blush. “However, could we jump to the advanced material?”

“What colours should they be?”

“White, blue, and grey, presumably. Caerulean colours, but that’s . . .” Iffe trailed off, pausing to adjust her glasses and resolve the distant red blur, “Red, white and red?”

“For those who lost their lives for their love, those who lost their lives for the nature of their birth, and those who lost their lives fighting for us all to be free from that oppression.”

“A remembrance band,” the young woman nodded firmly then paused and shook her head, amused, “I know the flag, which has the extra black bands of course because of . . .” They shared a subtle chuckle. “I’m still not used to seeing him in the flesh. Do you think–”

“No,” Allison cut off the question at the pass, “Not until we’ve taught you some better manners around the dragons.”

“I have manners,” Iffe protested with a wicked smirk.

“My dear girl, the way you conduct yourself around dragons is not acceptable, at least not when it is reflecting on our dear queen.”

“I am a grown woman, not a girl and I can–” Her throat shifted gently as she swallowed, the motion of the shapes beneath her dark, lustrous skin watched carefully by her companion’s eyes. “Lessons are taught to schoolgirls.”

“Yes they are.”

Words rose and fell with Iffe’s chest for a few moments, never making it far enough to be said as Allison’s gaze returned to the proceedings on the throne room floor. “I’m sorry,” she finally emitted words, “It feels a bit disrespectful to transition from that band to you getting me all hot and bothered.”

“Perhaps it is,” the Krinaale said, lingering on the words, “Or perhaps we are simply living in the world that they fought for. The freedom I have to live without persecution for my heritage. The freedom we have to love as women, all of us. That is the freedom that they fought for. To simply live our lives is to celebrate the nation that was built on their sacrifice.”

Iffe leaned into Allison’s side to embrace her, and was met on the other by Elle leaning in too. Behind them Winona scoffed, but offered a hand on the shoulder, lending her presence to the moment. From the floor of the grand chamber the booming voice of Thane Caerulea could be heard, officially declaring Brogan Flamesdaughter as his delegate. It took the edge off the shared embrace as Allison turned to Winona for a conformational nod. Iffe’s hand squeezed Elle’s shoulder for a moment before they parted ways and her dark-skinned face was taken over by a frown.

“But you looked troubled,” she began, shaping her thoughts as she spoke, “At least in part, by seeing that band on his arm.” The implicit question went unanswered for a while as Allison formed the words. “Why?”

“Because it will have annoyed our beloved queen,” Winona cut in to address the impatience, “To wear the colours of your hold is expected, anything else implicit disobedience, and in her own throne room.”

“But to do so with a memorial,” Iffe said in disbelief, twisting around in her seat, “Surely it’s something she can respect?”

“And that just annoys her all the more.” The answer came with a knowingly lifted finger, the black dressed woman speaking into her knuckles as she continued. “Because she won’t want to punish it, but will have to be seen to act in some way. Because being forced to find a clever non-punishment is annoying. Because we told her this would happen. It’s a lovely little constellation of things, none of which should annoy her. And it’s all making a mess of a moment that she really would just like to appreciate. Without all the trappings of court. Without any expectations placed upon her. Without any obligations to handle herself or the situation.”

In confusion, Iffe turned back to Allison, getting only a firm nod from the older woman. “I knew she would be tense after this, and given the nature of the delegation being declared today . . .”

“That’s it’s own whole thing,” Winona sighed.

“But with everything, as much as I love the gesture, and the beautiful sadness of remembering, that worry was what was troubling me,” she continued her idle confession, “Though perhaps not in as many words. Our dear Winona does have such an insightful way, especially with the queen.”

“If I might share a little more?” she asked, getting a nod from Allison and an affirmative noise from Iffe.

‘Always,’ Elle signed as she briefly glanced away from Pareth.

“Today is overtaken by formality, there won’t be any true business of court for another few hours at least.”

“She’ll want our opinions on the speeches afterwards,” Allison interjected.

“And she’ll have them,” Winona assured, “But she only needs us two watching, and Elle in case something does happen.” Stillness and silence. “Right?” Again, one noise, two gestures. “So, Iffe, my love, I would like you to go and make some arrangements for tonight.” More enthused noises from Iffe. “A gross of candles to be brought to the chamber. Ask if the Royal Guard can bring the flame for them when they light the lanterns tonight. Request . . .” The authoritative list paused for a single chuckle and a shake of her head. “Something with cheese and pasta from the kitchens. And find out copies of Final Verse by Duncan Guilder and Words of Remembrance by Bronwyn Burnought.”

“And a stack of handkerchiefs,” Allison added.

“And a stack of handkerchiefs,” she agreed, “If there is one thing we can offer Pareth above all else, it is a chance, in our chambers of an evening, to not have to be queen. And tonight that means being allowed to simply remember.”

Iffe’s chain of low, agreeing vocalisation was modulated heavily by her nodding. Assurance came in the form of hands from her three companions. With a final glance down to the throne room, and a wipe of her sleeve across her face, Iffe took her leave.