Private Tales Answers With the Ancestors

"I expect you have many stories for us, dear friend." Tigris grinned, nudging at the Prince as she hurried him along, casting a glance behind her, ensuring her father was out of earshot.

"And I hope you plan on telling me why you've brought all of these city folk here with you. The girl I understand, the Ogre too, but the rest?" her brow quirked.

”A pleasure to meet you.” Saen said, though his words were noticeably off, as though he were not quite used to the twists of the tongue that came with speaking the version of Tyrian that had slipped into common usage back in Tyr.

”Talmanes was the first outsider that had come to us for nearly a thousand years.” the Tyr’din said, looking up towards his daughter and the Prince beside her. ”He told us many stories, tales of what has happened to our people and how they have lost their way.”

He frowned for a brief moment, looking at Trista and particularly her hare. Obviously finding what they had done to her entirely abominable. ”I wish to know if what he said was true.”

The chief asked quietly.

”And then, I would like to offer you the same gift I offered him.” He said softly, gesturing up towards Talmanes.”A place here, for as long as you wish it.”

He continued, looking at her again with a smile. ”I do not know the city you come from, nor if you wish to return.”

”But you do not have to.” The generosity was almost instant, his arms and a place among his people offered as though it were the only thing he could do. ”They may have put a collar around your throat, and made you dye your hair, but your eyes betray your blood.”

His voice filled with a powerful conviction. ”You are Tyrian, and that means you have a place here. If you wish it.”

Saen finished as he looked ahead, the column of tribesman and caravaners slowly turning into what appeared to be a massive cavern.

'But, most important..Is the one where I broke free.'

Tigris paused, her yellow eyes falling from his face to his arms and widening, her grin almost as wide as his. "Talmanes.." she gasped. "You really did it." He had said he would.

She had expected what he confirmed next, but it didn't stop her from launching Tyche from her arm and grabbing him into a hug. "I knew it!" she whispered and pulled back, her hands on his face as she studied him with awe.

"I dreamt of it, almost every night these last weeks." her head shook. She had tried to ignore it, assuming him dead.. "I am sorry that I ever doubted you for one moment."

"And your father? Your brothers? Did you take back your throne?" her brows rose, glancing back down the line of pilgrims. Her hands fell, and she ushered him onward.

Trista followed Saen's gaze toward Talmanes, watching he and Saen's daughter rekindle their friendship, or perhaps more. She had not seen him so at ease, nor seemingly so happy. Trista soaked in Saen's words, her eyes stinging at the possibility of remaining here with people who would not sneer and spit in her path, who would see her as an equal and not a slave.

She swallowed and turned her attention back to the man, clearly nervous about speaking to him, about speaking ill of her former masters, about Calliope and the King who's home she had grown up in.

"I.." her brow furrowed, and her gaze fell to the ground. "I think, by disguising the colour of my hair they somewhat acknowledge that they have lost their way. It is not a way to shame me, but to hide their own."

She drew her dark waves around her shoulder, bowing her head so the he might see the brands on the back of her neck. "A slave, and a traitor's blood.." she explained. "I've known this life longer than I've known freedom. My father's house was once a great one..He was executed, and mother and sister were forced into slavery also. My mother died soon after, raped and beaten by her master, I heard." she frowned.

"Yes. They have lost their way." she confirmed with a single nod, her yellow eyes looking up at him.

"Thank you for your offer, though, my place is with Prince Talmanes. He gave me my freedom, at least, for now. King Drakkos would no doubt see me thrown into the pit upon my return.." she looked to Talmanes with a quiet sigh. "But I have faith in him. He will see things put right."

"I listened." Tigris added as she turned, catching the slave girl's gaze. Her lips pressed into a thin like, but she forced them into a tight smile since she looked so fucking nervous. She had little doubt what her father was saying to her. He'd have all Tyrians return to the mountains and live happily ever after, but Tigris had been closer to the city than he had, she had seen more than he had of how different their lives were now.

"Do not tell him." she cautioned. "I will help in whatever way I can." she grinned at him, excitement and mischief in her eyes as she looked down once more at the scars on his arms, and took his hands.. "They should be terrified."

She pulled him into the entryway, to the top of the steps, and smiled at the sight of the ancient, cavernous city of theirs. "Welcome home."

The more Trista spoke, the deeper Saen's frown became.

It was clear he did not like what he was hearing, though of course no blame was cast upon her. His fingers tightened into fists as she described the fate of her mother, outright disgust darkening his features as Trista spoke of the King who held her fate in his hand. ”It is no King that punishes the innocent in such a way.”

Saen denounced, resisting the urge to spit up on the ground.

”Our ancestors would be ashamed.” He said softly, still not quite able to grasp the thought of such punishment.

The Tyrian’s of old would punish those who went against the rule of law of course, and even his people did so, but to extend that punishment to a whole family? To break and bondage someone of the Blood for only the crimes of their father?

It made Saen sick, and as she rejected his offer he had to bite his tongue not to fight against her will. Just as with Talmanes, he would have fought to have her stay here. To live among her people and thrive in a world that would never see her as anything but equal. But he knew there was no point in arguing. He could see it in her. The way that she looked at him, the way that she spoke of him. Just like he saw in his own daughter, he could see Trista’s zeal for the wandering Prince.

His gaze drew upward, towards the cavern entrance where Tigris and Talmanes stood.

A weariness flickered through him. Wondering if Talmanes would lead this girl to salvation, or doom. Wondering, worrying, if his daughter would share the same fate. Regardless of what it was.

After a long, lingering moment, Saen sighed. ”If you will not stay, then we'll simply have to celebrate your visit.”

The Chief said, deciding that he would do as he always had; protect his people, and honor the traditions of their Ancestors. Talmanes and Trista were Tyrian, brother and sister to his tribe, and children to him as any young Tyrian would be. He would welcome them with open arms, and keep them safe for as long as they would need.

”Come.” He urged. ”My sisters will wash your hair and see you dressed in something proper, and I'll not have the rest of your caravan go unfed. You are all my guests, and you.”

He told Trista in particular. ”Are family.”

The chief smiled wide, wrapping his massive arm around Trista and practically dragging her forward towards the entrance of the tunnel. His sweeping steps carrying her up and towards Talmanes and Trista, the four of them heading into the cavern together as the village below began to encircle them. Whooping cheers and happy calls resounding from the walls as the warriors returned, and those who had stayed behind greeted them gladly.

Before long those within the Caravan had been welcomed, the outsiders given a space to stay and rest, while Trista and Talmanes were taken deeper into the stoney city, embraced within the warmth of fires that had burned for generations.

Tigris felt the depth of Talmanes' gratitude in the way he squeezed her hands, and she smiled smugly with a shrug. She knew his journey had been gruelling, but seeing him here, standing beside her, filled her with a fierce sense of purpose.

Her gaze followed his to the village below, where the torches flickered like stars in the dim light, casting shadows that danced on the ancient stone. "Our people need this." she continued, her voice gaining intensity. "They need to remember who they are, what we are capable of. The power of our blood." she smiled, pride burning in her eyes.

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And don't worry about my father. We'll handle him together. He may be stubborn, but even he can't deny the truth when it's staring him in the face."

She started down the steps, pulling him along with her. "Come on," she said, a playful glint in her eyes. "You owe me those stories, and I intend to hear every single one of them."

Trista decided here and now that she liked this man. Something about him was comforting, and something in her chest stirred and ached. He reminded her of her father. She was not used to people truly caring for her wellbeing, at least until Talmanes. At least, she believed he cared.

"You are very kind, Saen." she said sincerely, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips and a quiet laugh spilling free as he wrapped an arm around her. It was everything not to nestle into his side

As their homes came into view, Trista's mouth fell open, specks of firelight reflecting in her eyes as they swept across the ancient, carved village with awe. Her throat ached with the urge to let her emotions get the better of her, a swell of pride in her chest.

She smiled warmly as she was guided into the embrace of the city, as people cheered and greeted her as though she were someone important. She immediately liked it here, hidden away from the outside world with people she belonged with.

It wasn't long before as promised, Saen's sisters retrieved her and took her off to bathe. They used oil to delicately pull the dye from her hair, and when they were done bathing her they dressed her in a fresh shift and styled her crimson hair as though it was something precious. It hung in soft waves, falling over her shoulders, no longer masked, nor veiled.

She hugged each of them, and they led her back to the festivities, the scent of cooked meat causing her stomach to tighten with hunger.

As Itara and the rest of his sisters saw to Trista, and as Tigris distracted the Prince; Saen went about setting up the evenings feast.

Though the wilds of Sheketh were hardly plentiful, his people had long since understood how to live off the land. They had not the riches of their cousins in Tyr, but food was plentiful enough, and luckily for the caravan it had only been a few days since Tigris and her hunting party had slain a Magma Wyrm. The creatures meat was tough, but delicious when properly cooked, and it's size meant they could feed hundreds for a week if needed.

Usually such a bounty would be preserved and save for the winters, but guests were always to be treated warm and welcoming. The feast was spun into place over the course of a short hour, a long table brought, more torches lit, and before long music began to play.

As he'd worked, Saen had short conversations with each of those Talmanes had brought, lingering the longest with the Ogre. The ancient bond between their people transcended the limits of Tyr, and the chief found himself smiling as Volstus offered his thanks and short insight into the situation back home.

As Itara brought Trista from the baths, Saen smiled wide. Volstus still at his side. ”Ah! I see they treated you well.”

He said, glancing at his sister's.

”They're not always so welcoming to me!” The Chief said with a barking laugh. His sisters shaking their head, Itara offering a playful barb in return.

”That's because you don't have half the potential she does.” The Blood Witch said with a grin. ”Now where is Talmanes? He still owes me some loff root.”

Itara asked, her gaze quickly following Saen's. Her expectant state catching the Prince's eyes.

Trista felt a warm flush spread through her chest as she smiled at Saen and his sister, feeling a twinge of nostalgia at their warmth and playful banter, a faint echo of her childhood, before everything had changed.

As the scent of cooked meat wafted through the air, her stomach growled in anticipation. She hugged herself slightly, feeling the softness of the new shift against her skin. She felt like a different person, reborn with the removal of the dye. People looked at her differently now.

Her eyes scanned the bustling village, searching for Talmanes. Her gaze swept over the joyous faces, the dancing flames, and the ancient carvings that adorned the village holdings. Finally, she spotted him, perched atop a ledge with Tigris. The sight of him, bathed in the warm light of the fire, brought a sense of comfort.

Trista caught Tigris' gaze and offered a shy smile, and she looked away, fearing she was interrupting.
"Thank you, Saen," she said warmly, turning her attention back to him and Itara. "Your kindness means more to me than you can know."

Tigris listened intently, her head resting against Talmanes' shoulder as he recounted his journey over the last decade. Each tale he shared brought a myriad of emotions to the surface – awe at his bravery, anger at the injustices he endured, and amusement at the moments of unexpected humor and triumph. She had always lived within the confines of the ash wastes and mountains, and the stories of the wider world beyond fascinated her deeply.

As Talmanes spoke, Tigris felt a profound sense of understanding and connection. She saw not a prince burdened by his past but a dear friend who had faced unimaginable challenges and emerged stronger. There was no judgment in her heart, only a fierce pride and an unwavering belief in his cause.

When he paused, promising to continue his tales later, she sighed contentedly, shifting slightly to look up at him. "You've lived a lifetime in these ten years," she murmured, admiration evident in her voice. "I always knew you were destined for greatness, Talmanes Al' Vere." she grinned.

Her eyes followed his gaze to the bustling feast below, catching sight of Saen and Itara beckoning them to join the celebrations. As she rose to her feet, she double-took at Trista, her fiery hair gleaming in the torchlight. A smirk tugged at her lips as she nudged Talmanes again. "She scrubs up well," she remarked, her tone light and teasing, before she shuffled down and dove into the celebrations.

Saen smiled as Trista offered her thanks, though shook his head in a small rejection of her words. ”It is only as many Tyrian should do.”

The Chief said softly.

”We were a blighted people, Trista. Scoured from our home and sent across the wastelands of our nation.” There was an odd sort of pride in his voice as he spoke of the desolation. A time.that most people in Tyr considered to be a horrid and terrifying event. Yet Saen seemed to carry it almost as an honor. ”We survived by working together, trusting one another, and always looking after those who can't look after themselves.”

As he finished, Itara let out a laugh. Slapping Saen's shoulder and shaking her head. ”Sarena be blessed, Saen. She is offering her appreciation, not looking for a lecture. Let the girl enjoy the warmth of her people!”

For just the briefest moment, the chiefs cheeks colored crimson, but a loud boisterous laugh echoed from his lips.

”Yes, yes, please. Enjoy the festivities, and know there is no need of thanks.” He said, spying Tigris and Talmanes pushing through the crowd. His arm wrapping around his sister. ”Come Itara, let the youth enjoy their festival. We're far too old to be standing in the middle of all this.”

The Blood Witch cackled, her mirth sounding through a rebuke that could barely be heard over the growing music.

Tigris smiled at him, her admiration evident in her gaze. She had missed him greatly, had felt her heart splinter when he left. She had wanted so badly for him to stay, and yet she could be nothing but proud of him for accomplishing all he had despite the obstacles he'd faced. He belonged here, and yet he didn't. He belonged on a throne, he was the only one who could restore Tyr to its former glory, and for that she'd let him go, no matter how much she loved him.

As she watched him now, her gaze softened with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Her heart ached with the knowledge that his path, though destined to lead to greatness, would inevitably take him away from her again.

Her gaze drifted to Trista. She looked every bit the Tyrian she should be, and it only emphasized her point. He would change things, as he had changed Trista, as he had changed her. She only hoped the former slave would see him as she did, that she would not betray him as so many had.

Tigris looked back at him. "No matter where your path takes you, know that you will always have a place here, with us, with me." she gently reminded, before slipping away from him and into the crowd.

Trista took in the chief's words, and every one that he spoke made the pride bloom in her chest. He loved his people, their people. He was a leader, not a ruler, and Trista's respect only grew for him. She thanked them both again as they walked away, their laughter and playful banter echoing through the crowd.

She was still smiling as her gaze shifted back to Talmanes as he pushed through the crowd. She met his gaze and her smile brightened, relieved that he was coming back to her.

Her heart swelled at the gentle touch of his hand and his whispered compliment, her cheeks warming, unused to such kind words. She turned to face him, her eyes shining with gratitude and warmth. The festival's vibrant energy seemed to fade into the background as she focused on him, the man who had brought her into this new life.

"Thank you.." she said, her voice barely audible above the joyful clamour around them. "It doesn't quite feel real.."

She took a deep breath, the scent of cooked meat and the earthy aroma of the village filling her senses. Her eyes darted to Volstus, catching his watchful gaze. She offered him a small, reassuring smile before turning back to Talmanes.

"You.." she continued, her voice tinged with emotion. "You’ve given me so much. I don't know how to thank you enough."

She looked up at him, the smile on her lips spreading into something rare and radiant, something free. His demeanour here was so different. He had an ease to him that made him more vibrant, the shadows of his daily strife gone from his features.

"There is every reason to thank you.." she answered him softly, her fair skin blooming with goosebumps as his fingers combed into her hair. His smile at its true colour was infectious, and a sense of pride she had not felt in a very long time caused her chest to swell with a breath that tumbled free with ease.

As he leaned in however, her smile faltered at the vulnerability in his voice, her brow furrowing at what he was asking of her. She turned her head to look at him with nothing but devotion and sincerity in her gaze. "I will never betray you, Talmanes.. I would swear it in blood." she offered, her eyes falling over his face, his lips.

From now on, you take what you want.

Her hand reached to cup his face, fully aware of the eyes on them, of Tigris watching her, though caring little as she boldly claimed his lips with her own.

Trista's heart pounded as she pulled away from the kiss, her chest heaving with the effort of drawing in air as she opened her eyes on his stunned face. The world around them seemed to blur as she focused solely on the man before her, his presence consuming her senses like a blazing fire.

Her hand lingered on his cheek, fingers trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment. She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting the same mixture of surprise and wonder that danced in his own.

As the cheers of the onlookers washed over them, Trista couldn't help but smile, her lips tingling from the fervor of their kiss. She felt alive, electric with the energy that pulsed between them.

"You" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as her fingers trailed over his jaw, " ..are my strength, Talmanes. Your people's strength. And I wish to be by your side when you take back what is yours."

Her heart thrummed as Talmanes spoke, his words weaving a spell around her, binding her to him with an unbreakable vow. She felt the power in his voice, the conviction that crackled in the air like a storm ready to unleash its fury. It was a force she could almost touch, a tangible thing that filled her with awe and determination.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and glistening with unwavering faith. She felt his promise as though it were etched into her very soul. A promise for her.. The light that enveloped his arms seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat, a shared rhythm that spoke of their unity.

Her fingers curled around his, holding on as if to anchor herself in the maelstrom of his power. "I will never be anyone's but yours again." she whispered, slow smile spreading across her face. With those words, Trista sealed her own promise, her own oath to the man she had come to love and trust above all else.

"Now. Will you dance with me?.." she asked. "It's been many years since I was last allowed to do so." she admitted softly.