Ode turns her eyes, of hues scarlet and black, onto the realm of Rahasia. She watches as the snow-white caravan crosses the everlasting desert, making their steady way with stallions all in silver plumes. Their silky-fox furs, though beautiful, don't fare them too well in the scorching heat of the sun. Diamonds and silver drip from the reigns, spears of the legionnaires, women and men, pointed towards the Lioness Gate.
One of the legionnaires breaks away from the rest. From the way he smiles at the queen, Ode can see he's the lover of the young Northern Matriarch, the ruthless Cassia, owner of countless precious gems, of glittering wealth. A woman sculpted from the unbreakable ice of the North.
The pretty boy stands with little armor, most of his dress is ornamental in design, with beads of glass forming an "x" over his chest, a tunic of spun-gold silk. Cheeks blooming the color of roses, a hard edge of arrogance to his brows. A lethal boy-toy.
Made to be loved.
Made to humiliate his enemies, ridiculed in their ugly defeat.
Queen Cassia, teenage matriarch and overseer of her shining legionnaires, swoops down, kisses him lightly on the cheek as he marches on, proud and strong.
"The tournament for hand-to-hand fighting," the still-teenage Queen Cassia informs her slightly younger lover, "I want you to win it. The Northern Kingdoms and Rahasian Empire might be at peace, but a show of strength is never worthless." She whispers near his ear, inciting him to hot-blooded violence. "Win for me, Valens of Valentia. Maybe then, I'll finally have found a warrior worthy of bearing children with. The last one was so close... but ultimately lacking. Shame the Emperor of this desert's taken. He was a looker, but alas," she sighs, throwing one arm dramatically over her head, plunging her face in shadow, "I can't stand up to consort Ryu's prettiness."
Damned right you aren't as pretty as my honorary brother.
Ode casts her jealousy away. Cassia's done nothing to deserve this ire, as supporting of Elio and Ryu's union as she is. But still, something about gladiatorial combat. Of a competition.
It makes Ode's warrior blood boil.
In the Before, wrapped in the power of the endless night, of life and death outside of mortal time, Ode raises a brow.
Valens is a mortal. It wouldn't be a fair fight if Ode came down to thoroughly clout him.
But Ode knows someone who is a mortal, someone she trusts.
A certain Queen of Thieves, for instance.
***
"For the last time, Ode, no. You might have eternal youth and all that, meong, but I'm getting too old to go on crazy adventures."
Ode, arms crossed, stands over Ratu's sleeping form on her Jiwanese mattress. The death goddess lifts Ratu's coiled arm, hugging several daggers to her chest. "You hug your knives like they're your lovers. You aren't made for domestic life, Ratu. We're warriors."
Ratu's dream form, invisible to any mortal eye, shakes her head at her old charge. "You're a warrior, Ode. I'm just a thief."
"Queen Cassia and that pretty boy Valens want to humiliate the Rahasian Empire. I know you could beat him at the Heart-Render's Tournament." Ode gets on her knees, a humorous sight, to see the embodiment of death pleading. "Please."
"The Heart-Render's Tournament?" Ratu snorts at that one, her dreamscape form flickering with her laughter. Her sleeping, physical form snores extra loudly.
"It's some strange Northern tradition. A fighting tournament celebrating when a Northern Matriarch, long ago, ripped out the heart of one of her cheating lovers. Now, the Northern Matriarch has her warriors fight for her honor. Usually, they're her lovers, though that's a tradition that's been coming into style in recent years."
Ratu rolls her eyes. "I'm Jiwanese, and a Rahasian citizen to boot. Why should Northern traditions matter to me?"
"Because the Northerners should fear us. Because they should cower in terror at the mere mention of our armies. So that all women will see that you, Ratu, are the greatest fighter the Empire's known. Be a devourer of hearts, a crusher of souls." Ode stands at her full height then, no longer the mortal she once was. She draws on the power of the Before in that dreamscape. As she did in Raja, she stands at the height where normal men should cower in terror, where warriors should fall on their knees in glorious admiration. "Ratu, Queen of Thieves, will you fight for me?"
Ratu smirks at that, staring down at her sleeping form, the sensual glint of the moonlight against the newly sharpened daggers. "Well, seeing the challenge from that angle," her grin grows almost feline, "how could I refuse?"
***
"You say she's a former thief?" Queen Cassia raises a thin, imperious brow at that declaration. Her ice-eyes linger over Ratu's frame, the dragon veils subsuming half her face, leaving Ratu's kohl-lined eyes in shadow. "And you want a mere criminal to fight for your entire Empire?"
Emperor Elio sighs, struggling to keep his face diplomatically impassive, if not emotionally pleasant overall. "It isn't a question of her past history, Queen Cassia. It's a question of who the best fighter is." He makes sure to glance over at Valens then, the pretty boy currently glaring so harshly at Ratu that the Queen of Thieves has to keep herself from laughing spitefully at his ego. "And I believe she's the best."
"How can you dare say that when I am in the room?" Valens steps forwards then, his silver-lined boots squeaking against the mosaic tile. The image of Rahasia's rose-print all over the advising chamber.
"Calm down, Valens." Queen Cassia's voice, though young, commands a presence that speaks of someone decades older. Born to rule. A woman to be admired. Like a chiding mother to her child, Valens backs down and sulks. "I suppose I'll allow it. But this Jiwanese woman better not disappoint in combat, Šāhanšāh."
"Diplomacy speaks best on the battlefield, my queen." Elio takes a flourishing bow, his light silk şalvar and tunics both embroidered with delicate roses, a mirror of Ryu's own fleshy brands.
That selfsame Ryu, the high Consort, strides in with a vest that bares his lean stomach. Şalvar cuffed fashionably at his slim ankles. Shaggy head of hair braided with glass beads, he kisses Emperor Elio boldly on the back o his hand, lips pressed against the golden signet ring of the Empire. "I'd argue diplomacy is best represented through music and good conversation, but that goes to show you how my husband and I differ." He winks at Cassia, enveloping her in a hug as her floral Northern perfume clashes with the woody incense Ryu wears. "Darling, how are you?"
"Good conversation, just what I came here for." She kisses him, as a brother, on the cheek. "How are you enjoying my wedding present?"
"That harp? I'm making beautiful music."
Queen Cassia glances between Ryu and Elio, a light blush runs over the Emperor's face and neck. "Beautiful music? I'm sure the two of you make plenty."
Lovely, Ryu's an even better diplomat than his husband, the actual Emperor. They make such a good team together. But as much as I love Ryu's banter, I'm still here to make a statement.
Ratu smirks as she leans on her back foot, shifting position into a fighting stance to intimidate Valens. It works. The fighter, young and hotheaded as he is, sputters in a rage as he attempts to keep his anger in check.
Yes, do you see that Valens? My statement.
She doesn't break eye contact with the Idriolan fighter as she stands up straighter, proudly showing her dragon veils, the mark of her criminal past. Watch out, Valens of Valentia.
You will lose.
***
The royals of Idriola and Rahasia gather beneath a simple canopy, alongside their people. They hold positions no greater than anybody else, an initiative that young scholar Boaz, nephew to Ryu and Elio, came up with. A concept of democracy, the young scholar said. As inconvenient and non-showy as the seating arrangement is, it has cut down the number of rebellions in the rural radicalized villages on the outskirts of the Empire. Something about cutting down on overt spending and feeding the poor.
Damn, Elio thinks with a hidden smile, how fortunate that Boaz was just as skilled at diplomacy as his half-brother, Ryu.
A fire Diviner raises his hands to the sky, creating an elaborate light show around the sand pit arena outside Lioness Gate. An ice Diviner joins him, weaving his hands in the air to create giant sculptures of the fighters Valens and Ratu to tower as high as the walls surrounding the desert city.
Ratu steps forwards to deafening applause from the Rahasian citizens and Jiwanese merchants. But the Idriolans derisively call her a "heathen" and a "foreign criminal."
Valens, on the other hand, is constantly berated by the opposing side for being, "a boy toy" and a "golden-haired letch".
They strip off their armor. Ratu arrives in her usual fighting clothes, dragon veils and simple tunics with long sleeves and loose trousers for optimal movement. Valens wears lighter cotton to reveal bare arms, short pants that cut at his lower knees.
"You think you'll defeat me, thief? Asine! Nebulo! You're a donkey. You're trash. How can you hope to win?" Valens stretches, flexing a bit as he prepares himself for the fight.
"Well, you wind-bag bloon, feel lucky I don't kill you for that insult instead." Oh, how Ratu wishes she has her knives, to draw some more lines on that face of his. In some ways, she's glad she doesn't.
It'll at least make defeating him slightly more of a challenge.
A drum sounds, the hand-to-hand combat's begun.
Valens runs straight for Ratu.
She doesn't even move.
Still standing there, staring the young, charging bull down, she does nothing at all.
Doesn't even look concerned.
"What is she doing?" Queen Cassia hisses in disbelief. "I thought you said she'd fight! She's just... giving up."
"Patience," Elio says, hiding a satisfied smile, "she taught Ode everything she knew about unarmed combat."
Right as Valens is about to wring Ratu's neck, she ducks low. With a sweeping kick, Valens falls nearly on his face. He recovers at the last second.
That's more than enough stumbling time for Ratu to come back and lock him into a chokehold.
The Idriolan legionnaires go paler-faced than usual, deathly silent like they're already interred within their graves.
Ratu pulls her elbow back, a mistake as Valens takes that time to rear forwards and throw her over his bulky shoulder. He wrings her neck then, the sheer weight of him enough to leave Ratu scrabbling for air.
And scrabbling.
Clawing.
Pushing at his arms.
"She'll die out there." Ryu buries his face into Elio's shoulder. "I can't watch."
"No," Elio whispers in awe. "She's... she's..."
Ratu slumps over, with a whoop of triumph, Valens releases his grip.
And that's when Ratu lifts her head and slams her forehead into his nose. A horrid cracking sound as his pretty face shatters.
"She faked her own defeat." Elio and Ryu come to the same conclusion in unison, a testament to the strength of their bond.
With that, the fight is over. Ratu stands victorious as Valens howls like a wild beast. "My face, my face, my beautiful face."
Ratu helps him come to a staggering stand. "You'll recover."
"How could you win?" Valens whimpers. "You're a thief."
"No, boy," Ratu leaves him to stumble away. "I'm queen of them all."
***
Kane materializes behind Ode's shoulder, drapes a teardrop diamond necklace around her warm-hued neck. A soft kiss at the shell of her ear.
Glancing back, the goddess of death asks, "what is this?"
"A teardrop necklace forged from the Idriolan fighter boy, Valen's, egotistical tears."
"The tears of a warrior," Ode smiles back at the silver-haired god of life, brought to his knees by her own warrior spirit, "how fitting, blood and tears are what forged our relationship too. Happy Heart-Render's Day, joon-am."
Kane laughs, the sound echoing through the expanse of eternity. "You can rend my heart any day, love."
Is that a challenge?
Ode jokingly reaches for her scimitar, but Kane pulls her into his embrace before she can.
She'll rend hearts some other time.