thick as wine, not as sweet

The early winter morning brought liquid honey light to drain weakly onto the castle ruins. All was quiet, which was rare, and perhaps only happened at this early morning hour-- otherwise, noise from the square and the bustling castle of servants and royals and soldiers and merchants filled the air with a white-noise hum. It was a noise that Cairo's ears found comforting, the noise of home and comfort and familiarity. But lately, it was too noisy. Suddenly, the white noise was no longer white noise but instead she heard the words-- used like daggers, used for the deals behind doors; she heard the cackling and flouncing of girls in frilly dresses; she heard lofty talk balls and gardens and peace. She heard rumors and whispers. Sometimes, she swore she heard her name. The girl had never been paranoid, and had surely never questioned her place in society. Life was stable. Life was good. And then the Highlanders had to go and fuck it all up. Cairo let out a breath as she stared at the eastern horizon. The sun reflected in her amber eyes, sparks of light refracting off the smallest imperfections in her irises like gemstones made of flame. The timber girl was seated beneath a spindly olive tree in a small outcropping. It was a rest-area set aside from the long line of stairs carved into the steep cliffside. It was laid down with uneven cobblestone and the remnants of an ancient bench still remained beneath that tree. It was a beautiful view of the land, and a place that she and her younger sister used to haunt when they'd bot6h been younger. When Xandria had been filled with wanderlust, the then-teenage-Cairo would bring her here to stare at the vastness of the world, and it always seemed to calm her. They would talk about grand battles and their great lineage, of the King and Queen, of the silly noblewomen, and sometimes of Bastet. Cairo let her thick lashes fall over her eyes. She was beginning to enjoy the quiet moments in the early mornings more and more. The night before, though, she'd heard another rumor: this time, it involved Xandria's name. Had she truly returned? Cairo had not sought her out in her normal spots -- she rarely believed the rumors she heard, and if it was true, she was sure she would see her sister soon. “I will be a Queen— with or without you.”

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@Xandria

No sleep had come upon the night of Xandria’s return. Her blood roared like a dragon trapped in her veins and she’d paced through her quarters like a caged animal until dawn. Vengeance had not tempered her steel, it had only sharpened it. The news of her mother’s engagement to Kvothe was salt in the wound of her father’s death. Kohl had not been close to any of his children, but the opportunity to bond with the distant man had been stolen from her. Now Kvothe’s shadow lingered where Kohl’s was meant to be. A man who she had regarded as an uncle figure was stepping in her father’s shoes while they were still warm and fresh with blood.

It was a far cry from the memories of home she held as a child. Days spent adventuring with Cairo and pestering Nassar for war stories. They had surrounded her with love where her father had rebuffed her affections. The war had brought distance between them, duty and obligation making it harder for them to talk much beyond a few conversations exchanged in the barracks between shifts. She knew where she would be without really thinking about it and she expected a similar welcome from how her mother had received her. She didn’t doubt that her big sister would be just as hurt by her absence, even more so if she knew the real dangers her younger sister had exposed herself to.

Radiant golden eyes fell upon the ash and fire pelt of her sister standing in their childhood hideaway, paws swiftly carrying her over to her side. She longed to greet her with their usual affection, but did not know how she would be received. I thought I’d find you here, she spoke first, tail flicking with agitation.

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“I thought I’d find you here.” came the familiar voice of her sister — though truth be told, it sounded somewhat strange in Cairo’s ears. Was it because it’d been weeks since she’d last heard it? Or was there a different note of something else now in her little sister’s voice? Cairo’s chestnut ear flicked back to show that she had heard her, though she didn’t say anything right at first. After a few moments of continuing her stare at the horizon, Cairo finally turned her head to take in Xandria. The same rustic fire and earthen robes, the same dandelion eyes. But something was different now. Cairo was uncertain if the change was in Xandria, or herself. “I thought you’d find me here.” Cairo replied, and while her voice was steely it was surprisingly tame for a Tiamat. For a reason that Cairo couldn’t comprehend, she did not feel the burning fires blazing within her belly as usual. Instead the fires had turned to embers, which had subsided into glowing coals. It was as if all the weight pressed down on the fire, smothering and smothering until finally, as Cairo stared at her only sister’s face, she only felt… cold. "I assume you've already talked with Mother and the Matriarch. I'm surprised to see your fur unsinged," she commented dryly, eyes roving the girl's form for signs of injury or shame. Each word she spoke so icily was like a puck of her heartstring, pulling it more and more taught. She wondered if it'd break, if the line between them would be severed forever. A few more moments of silence. “I needed you here.” she said, tone and stare turning sharp now. A brief flicker of fire.

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@Xandria

The silence that lingered after her greeting was icy and heavy. It drew out long enough to feel uncomfortable. She knew she had been heard, and saw the ear move in response. Her voice was not small or meek and neither was her sister deaf. Cairo simply did not want to answer. Xandria pretended to be indifferent to her sister's silence, watching the horizon with mirrored interest. Growing up in a house of Tiamat women she knew how effective the cold shoulder could be. Reputations could be ruined overnight by being snubbed by the politically powerful.

Finally Cairo’s head turned, acknowledging her younger sister’s existence. Her pride armored her, refusing to allow the sting of Cairo’s coldness to show through. There was still a part of her, a little girl that followed her older sister like a shadow, who wanted her approval. Being ignored was a cruel reminder of their father’s emotional distance, of never being good enough.

“I thought you’d find me here.” Cairo spoke, voice cold and cutting like the blade of a sword. Her features hardened, body tensing with anticipation. She was prepared for another lecture. Their mother had already squeezed her heart dry of the guilt she bore for abandoning her family.

"I assume you've already talked with Mother and the Matriarch. I'm surprised to see your fur unsinged," her sister’s voice was ice, nothing like the fire she had expected. It was much worse.

I’ve spoken with mom, she answered stiffly, golden eyes shifting to look at her sister. The mention of their grandmother caused her to stiffen, golden eyes blazing to life. The Matriarch has other concerns, she retorted bitterly, but she refrained from bringing up the subject of their mother’s engagement.

”I needed you here.” The admission cooled her ire and she was oddly relieved that the ice was melting. She wanted to know that her sister hadn’t given up on her. I’m sorry, she said, offering no excuses or arguments. It was all she could do. I should have been here sooner. I… I didn’t know how to handle it. I was just so angry. I couldn’t stop it, she spoke quietly, gaze returning to the horizon again. She didn’t regret killing him. She only regretted that it had taken so long.

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“I’ve spoken with mom. The Matriarch has other concerns,” Cairo looked up when she detected the added heat from her sister’s tone. So Xandeia knew, then. A childish part of her wanted to retort “well If you had been here perhaps you could’ve had a say in the matter” but the both of them knew the words were untrue and would’ve been a petty retort. It was strange even in that light Cairo kept her mouth shut— she’s never been above petty retorts before, but now she just couldn’t seem to find the energy for it. "We all are her concerns." Cairo replied blandly. "Do you think she won't have something to say or do about you not showing up for duty and disappearing on a wild hunt by yourself?" To avenge a man she didn't even like, her mind added, though Cairo had the sense to keep the words to herself. She wasn't sure what Ankh would do or say about Xandria's choices, but she was certain that it would not be pleasant. There had to be some recourse. Perhaps it was that thought that melted some of Cairo's rare ice, and pulled the admission from her mouth: that she needed her sister. "I'm sorry," Xandria said, and for some reason that irritated Cairo. The timber girl's eyes hardened. It seemed an apology wasn't what the older Tiamat needed or wanted. "I should have been here sooner. I... I didn't know how to handle it. I was just so angry. I couldn't stop it," Cairo let out a quiet scoff, following Xandria's eyes off to the horizon. "Couldn't stop it," she echoed, nearly in disbelief. Her eyes turned back to her sister. "That is war, Xan. We lose lives sometimes. This is what our family is." Her words were heavy and scornful. If Xandria would run off for vengeance any time one of them was killed in the line of duty, then perhaps she was not cut out for the Army. Somewhere in the back of her head, she understood how heartless she sounded. Deep down, she knew that, perhaps, her own response was not the politically correct one. But it was the one that was trained into her, and the one appropriate for her station and the life that she -- they-- lead. Cairo shook her head, as if trying to soften what she'd just said. "Why wouldn't you come to Mother first? Or me?" she demanded, and perhaps she was getting to the heart of her hurt. "You decided to go kill him on your own -- did you ever stop to think that I would want to come? Or that maybe Mother was the one who deserved to bleed him out? Look into his eyes and watch his soul eaten? But no, you decided on your own that somehow, you deserved that more than any of us." Kohl had not been close to any of his children. His death shook her more than she could have imagined, though perhaps for far different reasons than it shook Xandria. But they were all still and family. And truly, the biggest victim in all of this was Nassar. "You were selfish." she spat, and boy, was the fire returning now.

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@Xandria

Her sister was right to berate her, but instead of making her shrink guilt it made her rise with rebellion. Fire flashed in her golden eyes, tail snapping like a whip with brewing agitation. If the Matriarch sent for her she knew it wouldn't be pretty. Her rage towards the woman for ensnaring her mother in an engagement she hadn't wanted or asked for was great. Xandria stepping out of line would be the only time she looked behind her golden child to see the other granddaughter in Cairo's shadow.

That is war, Xan. We lose lives sometimes. This is what our family is.

Xandria recoiled at her sister's blith words, fur fluffing out and bristling with upset. Tears shined in her eyes, but they did not flow. She swallowed down a lump in her throat and gritted her teeth. And is that all we are? Pawns to be married off? Lives to be lost in a war? she exclaimed, voice shaking with anger. She was shocked that her sister spoke of them as if they were so trivial, as if their father's death was just something she should accept. It wasn't normal. The war wasn't meant to happen. Their dad should still be alive. It wasn't fair. Xandria refused to accept that that was her fate.

I didn't think you would let me go, Xandria admitted, golden eyes fixed on her sister's features. Her ears flicked with uncertainty as she went on, but they grew rigid and erect again once her rant was finished. Xandria flushed with rage and shame because she knew Cairo was right at least in part, but it hadn't been about glory or stealing anyone's thunder. It wasn't a prize to me. It wasn't about who deserved it more. she argued, anger making her raise her voice. I wasn't trying to steal anything from you or mom. I know he didn't care about us and I didn't know him as well as you or mom, but I still loved him, she retorted sharply and turned on her heel to march away from her sister, away from the hurt threatening to implode her chest.

- Exit unless stopped

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Xandria seemed to swell with rebellion and fury at the words of the Matriarch. Cairo watched her carefully; oddly, she felt as if she was a bird in the tree watching the scene, instead of being part of it. It was strange — in another life, Cairo felt like she might have harnessed the same wild inferno as her sister. But now? Her flames felt tamed— like they were her own weapon instead of her being the weapon of the flame. It felt surreal, and strange. Her sister was even more upset at her next words — and Cairo could almost understand why. “And is that all we are? Pawns to be married off? Lives to be lost in war?” she demanded, the passion twining her tones to the near point of breaking. Suddenly, Cairo felt as if she were much older. These were not conversations that she should have to have, and she should not be the one to have to teach her sister these lessons. It seemed Xandria was thinking only with her heart — it was as if she had left her gold-lined, iron-clad Tiamat armor on the battlefields and her soul was laid bare for all to see— and to harm. Cairo scrutinized her sister. “All we are?” She echoed. ”All? This life is one to cherish — there are hardships, but we were born for this. The life we lead is an honor, and worth every breath.” She said firmly. “Father’s death was a tragedy — but it was the most honorable death he could hope for. His heart will be weighed, and his bravery and honor will be seen.” Her voice turned more caustic near the end, for her thoughts had wandered to Xandria’s actions — and she wondered if her sister’s heart would be seen as purely. Killing in cold blood— would that be seen as honorable, even in the name of ‘justice’? Was it even justice, killing the man who had killed their father in a time of war? On the battlefield? She wasn’t sure, and for a heartbeat she was frightened for her sister’s soul. "And sacrifice is part of life," she added. “I didn’t think you would let me go,” Xandria admitted. Cairo met her gaze, such a similar shade of gold— and yet on such an opposite spectrum. “I suppose we’ll never know.” she retorted. Though she knew Xandria was probably right. Cairo wouldn’t have let her go. She would have stopped her. “It wasn’t a prize to me. It wasn’t about who deserved it more.” Xandria challenged and Cairo narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to steal anything from you or mom. I know he didn’t care about us and I didn’t know him as well as you or mom, but I still loved him,” And then she spun away. She turned her back on Cairo. Again. This sparked her fires, truly, finally. The elder Tiamat let out a snarl, the speckled fur of her nape prickling. She took a step after her sister. "Stop," she demanded, furiously. "He cared about us," there were things that her sister needed to have straight, for she seemed horribly misinformed. “And we all loved him,” she snarled, unbelieving at the entitlement of her sister. As if she loved him more than she did, than Nassar did. Cairo couldn't comprehend the falsehood that Xandria seemed to be touting — that she did it out of love. “You were bitter and you killed in cold blood, you broke our code because you were hurt. Because you let your emotions get the best of you, " she snarled.

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@Xandria

The anger she held within her fought against the fragile barrier that kept it tethered. Xandria could only endure Cairo's fangs for so long before she bit back. Black lined lips twitched with urge to bare her teeth back, to show her older sister that she was not a child to be reprimanded. It ruffled her the way she acted like the Matriarch as if the baton had been passed to her and it was her right to berate her like this. Even worse was when Cairo questioned her honour and her courage as if she was some cowardly murderer. Her fur fluffed out like raging flames, bristling at the veiled insults her sister aimed at her. If you're going to call me a dishonourable coward. Then say it, she growled, golden eyes flaring with rage and hurt. She was tired of pretty words hiding poisonous meanings.

Her attempt to leave was met with a command and again she bristled. More orders as if she were a subordinate serving at her beck and call. Why? You've already judged me. You aren't interested in listening to what I have to say, she retorted, glaring over her shoulder at Cairo. She wasn't going to be her sister's personal punching bag. There was plenty she wanted to say. She wanted to question Cairo why it would be honourable and just for Nassar to kill him and not her. Because she was the youngest daughter, did that make her any less worthy of avenging her father? Was it cold blooded because it wasn't her sister exacting revenge? And what determines that? Who, where and why? If you had been there, killed him moments after he'd killed dad would that have been cold blooded too? Or would it be honourable and brave? she pressed her sister, wanting to know where the line was. She had fought the man, one on one. A yearling with barely a year of combat experience under her belt. The odds had been against her, but she had won fairly. There had been no cowardly or dirty tricks, just two soldiers face to face.

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“If you’re going to call me a dishonourable coward. Then say it.” Xandria demanded. Cairo met her sister’s caustic gaze, alive and so, so bright. For a moment, she thought she really would say it -- she thought she would rise to her sister’s challenge and call her those words. But her tongue remained immobile, and her apparent lack of candor was surprising. Perhaps that meant she didn’t truly believe those words, despite having nearly said it in an entirely different way. “You were being dishonorable.” she settled on finally. “It does not mean I think that’s what you are.” she was feeling tired again all of the sudden. But in true Tiamat fashion their conversation ebbed and flowed like the fires they so preciously cultivated. “Why? You’ve already judged me. You aren’t interested in listening to what I have to say,” she spat back, tossed over her shoulder. “And what determines that? Who, where, and why? If you had been there, killed him moments after he’d killed dad would that have been cold blooded too? Or would it be honorable and brave?” The line was obvious to Cairo. It also pained her that she had been there... and she hadn't managed to kill him. “There are different rules for war and battle than life,” she responded. “That’s why the Crown sends murderers to jail, and not soldiers.” And she watched Xandria carefully then, wondering. It turns out Ankh may not be entirely Royalist… she wondered if Xandria may be the same, if she would question the law. It did dawn on her, in that moment, her own hypocrisy -- as if she had heard Xandria’s thoughts. She had just whined about not taking the wolf down herself, or with Xandria, or letting their mother do it. And now she was preaching on the rules that she very well may have broken too -- if Nassar or Ankh had given the word. The timber woman shook her head. “Look, I’m not sorry he’s dead.” she said, trying to keep her voice level -- an olive branch. “I’m glad that whoever he was, he no longer is. But I just --” another shake of her head. "I think you need to be honest with yourself about why you did it. Why you didn't tell me or mom, why you think it's okay to kill out of battle and outside of the law -- even if it's deserved. And be careful moving forward." Suddenly, she just wanted the conversation to be over.

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@Xandria

Eyes of liquid gold flashed with a turbulent rage. One that was armed like a weapon, swords crossed with her own sister. “You were being dishonorable.” Her judgement was like a sharp dagger cutting deep into her heart. It didn't matter that she claimed not to think it of her. To Xandria they were the same damning words and she refused to acknowledge otherwise. That's exactly what it means, she scoffed and looked away from her sister.

She then proceeded to lecture her on the law like she was an apprentice soldier which stirred a growl deep from within her chest. It didn't escape her notice that she had avoided answering her question. Closing her eyes, she released a frustrated sigh and opened them again when she spoke further. Just sorry that it was me, Xandria remarked, but made no further interruptions. There was truth in Cairo's words, ones that touched a nerve in the young soldier. Her vigilante justice had been a criminal act, but that was the exception. She wasn't a bloodthirsty murderer who killed on a whim.

If that's all I have to report to the Barracks, she answered stiffly, wanting to be alone. Her mother's hot fury and her sister's cold wrath in succession left her feeling drained and numb.

Exit

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