Cetlali rushed off in the opposite direction of Ovar with equal parts terror and enthusiasm.
She had no intention of facing Ovar head on because he would obliterate her. Xocthl was quick on her tail, slinking through the mayhem of the Municipal Army, cutting down a good portion of Ovar's followers. They helped a few of their own as they passed by any soldiers getting overwhelmed or nursing injuries.
When Cetlali spotted Athua, it was only a slight surprise to see the Empress protecting the shit out of herself just fine. She'd never seen Athua wield the long staff she bore. But it was a sure thing of beauty as she swiped and jabbed at her attackers with the harpoon headed end.
Twirling it artfully into a pale blue and white blur, she bashed someone else's head in with the opposite side, a bulbous curve to the end about the size of a meaty fist.
Athua took out two of Eraughn's sentries, Gron and Teo who had both turned on her.
Wez had stayed as an Imperial Guard should, helping Ohmera cut down the remaining betrayers of Ezren's retainers. Kazu threw a man into a brazier with a glorious ululation.
Sivoy Enharouq cut through another charging at Athua and Masha's backs. Zoya Enharouq armed herself with Masha's spare daggers, trailing behind her husband, not entirely one for battle, but never without a fight.
Masha was, of course, fighting off Eraughn himself. The crowned Emperor wailed at her with his takoba. She deflected him with her ulu blades, swift as the wind. The curved ivory handles had carved out grips along the backside of wide, semicircular midnight sapphire blades.
They moved quicker than the flickering flames surrounding them. The Emperor seemed put out again, contested by someone who'd only been an Auxiliary for a short time. Not only younger than him, but several inches shorter than him as well. Few considered how ill-conceived notions could hamper them in a fight.
Cetlali looked around and saw that their battle was close to won. She cut down two more dissenters in quick succession as they panicked. She kept herself from looking the entire time she was fighting at Xocthl's side. It was admirable, but she eventually lost her ability to stay focused. She found herself stuck in a pocket free of violence and turned to watch Lovou and Ovar fight.
It was a horrifying sight if she'd ever seen one, and she had plenty to compare it to. Their movements were so swift and so fucking large, the room swelled with their presence alone. A horrible battle ignited between dark shadows and glimmering gold, the roaring of an unchained beast and the snarling birth of another.
Ovar was still moving fine, but he had a large gash on his cheek and multiple dents in his scale armor. Some looked so severe they had to be gouging him and hindering him somehow. He was missing a glove and an arm
guard on opposing limbs, huffing with rage as Lovou swung at him.
Lovou was quick and fierce with a focus so hell bent born on his features. The cut on his forehead did not daunt him, dripping blood down the side of his face, nor the sweat and hair clinging to his skin. He'd lost both of his gloves and an arm guard. Though he was huffing almost as hard as his brother, for a moment, Cetlali could have sworn he was smiling.
A distinct sense of relief settled over her chest for a beat. Then she heard Athua scream her name. The first thing she remembered doing was waiting with a sense of horror coming over her. She shook her head and with an ardent prayer he wouldn't have heard. When Lovou started turning in her direction with wide, alarmed eyes, a startling sense of agony verified he definitely did.
It all went wrong. Because of her.
No.
Cetlali heard the rattling of scale armor.
No.
The next thing she did was to look over her shoulder. Joseff was behind her, a single sword arm raised and leaving the rest of him unprotected.
No.
Cetlali struck like a fluid bolt of lightning.
With the grace of the practiced, she flipped the cutlass in her hand, reversing her hold in the same moment she stepped aside from his flailing strike. Flashing before him like a specter, she rammed her sword into the side of his neck like she was riving a hunk of wood. She yanked out her blade and the lifeless body crumbled to the floor. She flicked the blood off the end of her cutlass as she turned to look back.
Lovou sprawled out onto his hands and knees, blood coming up between his lips. Ovar just hit his sword away. The clattering still
echoed in the silence of Throne Forum. Ovar raised his falchion in his right hand with a fearsome snarl on his face. He pointed the tip down at the back of Lovou's neck.
"NO!" The wretched scream tore out of Cetlali's lips.
Her body threw itself into a sprint. She did not know what she was doing. Her feet just moved, taking a body along with it that was shaking and flailing and failing. There was a singular union of body and mind so intent on doing whatever she could to make sure Lovou didn't die. She hadn't had to think about it. He couldn't die. She just had to make sure that didn't happen.
Stumbling just a step, she sheathed her cutlass and pulled out one of her throwing knives. Using her awkward momentum, she flung it at Ovar with all of her strength. It ricochet off his scale armor, as useless as a toy.
Still, she sent two more after it until he turned his head with a snarl. Just in time to catch the sight of her flying at him.
"Not him!"
She leapt and sunk her dagger into the side of Ovar's neck. He roared in fury, sword clattering to the ground as he went to swipe at her. He lumbered about in a frenzy, turning in frantic circles. She hung from his back by her grip on the blade still jabbed in his neck, swinging like a wonky painting would form a tilted nail.
Ovar's hand reached for her, pulling her over his shoulder and throwing her to the ground by her hair. She wailed in agony, but the sound cut off when he grabbed her by the neck. Lifting her with a roar, Ovar slammed Cetlali against a stone pillar. Her toes dangled several feet off the ground, lungs heaving but rendered ineffective. She grappled at his arm as his bare hand firmed its hold around her neck and squeezed without mercy.
"I wanted to take my time with you," Ovar snarled with such rueful woe. He reached into
his belt, whipping out a dagger that could have been a cutlass to anyone else.
His most wicked smile curled. "Perhaps I'll just gut you. Let you bleed out slow so you can watch while I kill that bitch of a brother of mine. Hm, changeling?"
He pulled his arm bearing the dagger back, intent on making a home for it in her stomach.
But a shuddering clang sounded through the room and Ovar screeched. His arm lay cleaved from his shoulder and blood spurt everywhere.
Lovou stood there, face bloodied. The blade in his leg was the twin of the one just aimed at Cetlali. His Khopesh in hand, freshly bloodied, the tip pointed down at the dismembered arm on the floor still gripping the enormous dagger. "You don't get to call her Changeling..."
He rasped with a not quite exhausted fury.
Ovar flailed, blood streaming down both sides of him as his neck and arm both gushed.
He kicked back at Lovou's leg, making him howl in agony as he staggered to his knees and
dropped his blade. The grasp that still held Cetlali yanked her away from the pillar and slammed her back against it with a thunderous bellow. Ovar focused in on her with a sick looking smile oozing blood. The grip that had almost loosened around her neck hardened.
She knew that, even though Ovar was dying, it was going far too slow to keep him from killing her, too. He was going to crush her neck with his giant hand.
Her wriggling was valiant, doing her best to slip her own fingers inside his terrifying grip to get some room to breathe. When it didn't work, she hefted her legs up with a breathless, angered screech. She wrapped them around Ovar's arm with a vast and vicious effort, hooking her heel over his shoulder. She pulled up the opposite knee with a convulsing swiftness as he tried to shake her off.
With a virulent rage and a stream of squawking breathless curses, Cetlali kicked at the hilt of the small knife still embedded in the side of Ovar's neck. The blade wrenched through the front of his throat at the wrong
angle, taking with it hunks of skin and other tissue. It clattered down his chest and to the ground with several pings. His eyes bulged like he felt pain for the first time in his life. He coughed, blood and gore welled from the wound itself, but also burst out of his mouth. It dripped down the front of him, an effective eclipse of crimson, blotting out the golden crown on his chest. His eyes hardened again, a renewed lingering focus that could only see Cetlali through the haze of dwindling mortality. Ovar's fingers tightened, and he well intended to bring her through the gates of the deepest hell with him. One last dying infamy.
Lovou found one of Ovar's dropped
daggers. And from behind his brother, he drove the point of the blade through the back of his neck and out the front by several inches. It almost fully disconnected the head from the rest of him and the depravity finally faded from Ovar's eyes. The vacant, cow-sized dome sagged forward without the bony structure of Ovar's spine holding it up. With a deluge of blood, the pithed beast crumpled, starting at the knees. Cetlali went with him, dragged
down the stone pillar before falling to the floor in a painful heap.
She pried Ovar's wretched fingers from her neck. With the help of Lovou, who stared at her with such wide, frenzied eyes, she feared he might not see her at all. Once Ovar's dead fingers snapped off her skin, Lovou ripped her away from the corpse. He stumbled to his knees several paces away, and they tumbled into a heap of limbs, wounds, and tears.
Her face in his hands, she didn't know who was shaking, but her vision blurred with the movement. She wavered on the perch of him, grasping at him in whispers, begging each part of him to be ok.
"You're —?" His voice started with a crackling desperation.
"—bleeding!" she rasped at him and swiped his hands away. Her throat was aching, so she made wild gestures down at his leg. The knife stuck straight through the top of his thigh, tilted and angular, but appearing to be all fleshy
damage as blood seeped out on either side to slow to matter.
"Fuck my leg!" He snarled at her with vehemence and they both wobbled together on the floor. He still loomed over her as he threw his hands and arms into the fervor behind his words, "What the fuck do you think you were doing!?"
Cetlali curved in on herself as his voice rose and cracked. With that and the desperation behind his glare, she surged up against his scowl, clamoring to get her face right up in his.
Her words were watery but sharp. "I knew you'd get distracted!" She gave a crackling roar and for a moment, he seemed a bit frightened at her ire. "Why were you looking at me!? Ovar would have killed you! I can take care of myself!
I was fine!"
"Fine?!" He snarled right back, grabbing her shoulders with a fury that was startling in its gentleness. His grip vibrated with the effort not to crush her, overcome with an emotion he couldn't name. "You're covered in blood and
your neck looks like you're twice hanged after getting put through a meat grinder! I wouldn't have needed to worry about you if your were on your form and not getting snuck up on by the likes of Joseff!" The last of it was a screech if his voice could go high enough to call it that,
"Fucking Joseff Bresl of all the worthless fucks!?"
Her voice shot louder, still croaking, "You have a gaping head wound and knife through your fucking leg, you massive hypocritical asshole!" She grabbed at his chest plate and shook him as best as she could. Which was very little as he was big as a tree, so she did most of the moving and flailing herself.
"Diatata give you sense!" Masha's voice cut through the silent hall like thunder. She invoked the god of knowledge and wisdom on their petty squabbling, writhing on the floor like petulant children. "You're alive! Just be thankful!"
"What in the hells is going on here?!" Sivoy Enharouq's booming voice ricochet through
the hall sounding like he held onto the edge of calm with just his fingertips. "Many of my bravest men were killed tonight —,"
"Everyone's bravest men were killed tonight," Lovou snarled back. That was about the time Cetlali realized she'd crawled over his uninjured leg. She was straddling his large thigh in order to grab at his chest plate and scream in his face.
Her body heated quite confusingly for almost just dying. She was so thankful that, as she flushed on top of Lovou, he stayed preoccupied with snarling at Sivoy Enharouq's frantic questions. She watched him in profile as he spoke. The side without scars was an interesting sight, bathed in shadows and blood, outlined by the light of the fire. His face was home to harsh, hard lines that had such a significant grace to them. He was breathtaking.
He was alive. She was just so happy he was alive.
Her thighs clenched without her
permission. When she realized his head was
turning back to her, she scrambled backwards off of his lap and away from him like a rabid crab. Her knees knocked together and her boots splayed with a thrumming exhaustion going down her legs. She watched him, eyes wide and chest heaving as she forced herself to settle down.
His glare was full of betrayal at his thigh, uninjured and chilling, and his hands, now empty of her warmth. He looked up at Cetlali with a scowl, his fists squeezing tight. She couldn't help it when her knees pressed together in a reaction she didn't — couldn't —
anticipate. Him, just there, covered in blood, victorious, gorgeous, terrifying, and alive. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
His scowling eyes caught her wriggling. Her eyes widened as he dragged a languid gaze up to her face and a slow grin crawled right behind it. She swallowed, but a tiny smile ticked at her lip to match his.
"Is everyone alright?" Caran's voice sounded and cracked their bubble again.
"I'd still like to know what the hell happened," Sivoy Enharouq spoke with his usual clarity. "We were all sleeping when we heard the explosion. On our way to the vault, I saw the barracks on fire. Then Ovar's followers intercepted us."
"Herded in here more like," Lovou scoffed to himself and for a moment, Sivoy allowed himself to look incensed.
"What matters is everyone is okay!" Athua interjected and then swallowed down the way she started to shake. "Well, aside from all the dead people," she spoke with a sudden, devastating sadness. Her eyes gazed around the room to assess the damage. They came to Eraughn's lifeless form, a long thin slice across his throat that was a perfect match for Masha's ulus with how deep it went.
Athua's gaze hardened in an instant. She fisted her fingers in her fight-loosened robe, looking back out at everyone gathered. "At least the ones I know I can trust are safe." She walked down the dais with an illuminated grace
as she tightened her robe, stepping over the corpses of those who tried to kill her and all she cared for. "Imperator Caran, we will do all we can to ensure your soldiers get everything they need and none are forgotten, I promise you."
He nodded, solemn eyes taking in her sudden poise and ardent tone despite being in quite a disarray from the scuffle. "Thank you, your grace."
She nodded back to him and turned to all of his soldiers. "You have my most sincere gratitude for what you have done for me and my clan, for our Empire. I will not forget your efforts tonight or your losses. After we have figured out a way to move forward from this, I wish to speak with all of you to know what the Empire can do to repay you for your bravery and astute honor."
That genuine smile of hers was full of radiance as she continued. "I hope you will forgive me, but I wish to have some privacy with my most trusted advisors to catalogue what occurred tonight. We must assess
damages and mitigate the egregious violence we have all experienced. If you could all check in to see where assistance is needed with the fires and the injured outside, I would greatly appreciate it. I will personally help the staff prepare you all a hearty meal, plus plenty of water. And let us be honest with each other, some ale or wine would not hurt. I will arrange quarters for you in the palace as soon as possible as well. You are all more than deserving of having a good bath and a long and hard sleep for a day or two of recovery." She flashed that winsome smile and the surrounding group all shuffled and grinned back, appeased and enamored. Because if Athua was anything, she was disarmingly genuine.
As she was discussing things with the soldiers, the others started checking the bodies and lining them up according to their affiliation to take account of them all. Athua joined in soon after, but remained silent as they sorted through the dead. Fortunately, the dead were all enemies. The only wounded were friends.
Several had gashes that might need stitching,
but nothing was too severe. Masha might have tweaked her ankle quite badly, but she could still limp around on it without the pain of a break. Lovou and Cetlali seemed to be the most worst for wear, their injuries were many, but few too fresh.
Once people could sit down and have their wounds tended to, the talking started. Sivoy tended to Lovou, hearing the side of his story from when he was in the Vassour Elect's Complex. He detailed hearing the explosion and accounted for everything until they found the Imperial Clan in the Throne Forum. Sivoy tried to ask about Ezren, but all Lovou would do was assure him that Ezren Armistead was dead. And that he had deserved far worse. He insisted all concerns regarding it went to either Seun or Cetlali. Plus requiring a guarantee that it be done with a very specific level of respect.
Cetlali sat with Athua while Masha was over with Caran, tending to their own. No doubt, she was eager to help him figure out all they would need to do to get the army back to functioning.
"So..." Athua ventured, guiding Cetlali's head back to take a look at her mangled neck,
"You killed Ezren?"
Cetlali's eyes widened. She forgot she had said all that out loud. An ill-advised choice, maybe, however, needs must. She exhaled and nodded. "Yes."
"Why?" Athua's tone held the gentle curiosity of youth without seeming accusatory.
Cetlali looked at Athua with a direct, exhausted stare, more sure than sad. "He tried to kill Seun. He insinuated plans to harm you and tried to kidnap me, and when I wouldn't go with him, he beat me and tried to rape me.
When I wouldn't let him rape me, he tried to kill me. So I killed him first."
Athua observed her features. "And Seun is alive?"
Cetlali nodded. "He stabbed her near the hip, but she didn't think it was too bad. She
could walk, just not happily. She was in the care of Vae Encarnita and the other attendants when we left her."
Athua had a restrained smile on her face and nodded. "Seun is the very essence of the North."
"Truly. Amazing." Cetlali smiled and gave a short huff of laughter. Her eyes pooled with tears. "She saved my life. I owe her so much."
Athua nodded, gripping Cetlali's hands, trying to impart some comfort. "You will get a chance to thank her."
Cetlali nodded, her breaths wanting to come faster and shorter all at once. "A-Are you okay? They way you fought off the Imperial Guard would have made Arguox proud, but, you know, Eraughn and Ovar and..." She looked around the room at the lines and lines of corpses. She knew there were more waiting outside. Another in her solar that'd she'd prefer to never see ever again. She shivered and looked back at Athua who was also shuddering.
"I feel wretched," Athua's voice wavered and Cetlali gripped her closer as her face crumbled in despair. "My heart breaks because I feel despondent at the loss, but..." She choked on further words and sighed, "Eraughn would have killed us all. We had an advantage, and he kicked us onto the chopping block all the same just so he could get on what he thought was the winning side." She descended into sobs and Cetlali's entire body wracked with the agony pouring off of her in waves.
"He was a coward," Cetlali snarled and hugged Athua tighter. "you deserved better than this, than him. From the very beginning you always knew that."
"I overestimated his decency," a jagged sob ripped from Athua's chest. "I let myself think he might grow into a man who would be worthy of being called the father of my children, the Emperor of our realms. Now I'm in line to run a vast Empire with no one by my side."
"That's not true!" Cetlali insisted. "You have your clan and you have made an impression on
our realm. Even in such a short amount of time, the people love you, Athua."
"This will devastate the Empire. Ezren was a legend. Though the Adityan Clan was a rather recent addition to anointed Sovereign Clans, Eraughn came from a lineage that went hundreds of years back. It dwindled down to nothing with the loss of his life. I am Empress by all rights, but... The betrayal of Ovar and Ezren? The destruction of both the Municipal Army and the Imperial Guard?" Athua sniffled again and Cetlali held her close.
"We will rebuild. You'll have help and the Empire will rally around their Empress who, quite literally, fought hand to hand to defend her clan and her people when cowards tried to take them for their own. The soldiers saw you in here, none of them are of noble birth and couldn't give two shits about lines of succession or drama at court, but they did see the bravery of their Empress diving into the fray to protect those who fought for her," Cetlali replied.
"I was just doing what was right," Athua replied with a teary reluctancy.
"And that's why you'll be an amazing Empress. You'll always try to do what's right."
Cetlali squeezed her. "I'm here for you, Athua."
"Thank you Cetlali." Athua hugged her back. "I'm so sorry, my love, my kindred. This was a wretched night and I cannot wait for it to be behind us."
"It already is, Athua," Cetlali whispered, eyes laden with tears. "Now, we heal, and we do it together."
They pressed their heads against each other's and cried heavy, forbidden tears. Yet everyone let them. The Empress wasn't wrong.
The night was a wretched horror.
But Cetlali had the right of it.
It was over.