Ekkon and Fecchi stood in front of the tents entrance with their bronzed tattooed arms folded across their chest, guarding Ja'harra as she laid sideways in a fur coated chair. Her long bare legs dangled over the armrest, ankles decorated with gold rings bejeweled in deep jades and an even deeper amethyst color that shimmered every time she moved her foot around to the calming beat of the drums outdoors.
Over the small smile that graced her full lips, Ja'harra's nose flared at the sight of the note she was reading, sent by the king of D'treroh himself. She couldn't count how many times he wished for her to intervene in court and royalty affairs but her clan declined each time. War and bloodshed was over. They only kept the peace when need-be. When the pale man had marched upon their soils so many years ago and took their people, not a single hand of anyone else came to aid them, and although Great Donia Anabwei forgave them, she also promised they'd only work on healing the nation's instead of helping the crown gain power for selfish reasons.
Ja'harra tapped her index finger against the corner of her mouth and sighed. The cold winds gusting into her tent sending the fire in the center of her home sputtering. Smoke rose around thick in the air, and she waved a hand around to clear the vapor. "So if I don't lend him a hand in taking his son down he threatens to bring fire and Brimstone to Kovya, and of course the women nor their children will be safe. A heartless king who knows no boundaries or love." She crumbled the paper in her hand and tossed it into the fire without so as giving it another look over. She only really needed to read it once. Once was enough to feel the power and vehemence behind Ragnar's printed words.
She had Ineija wanting a truce to protect them from Eros, and then now Eros wanted help in finding the only other claim to the throne.
Ekkon's wide nose flared even more. "We take em head on. No ledda will be sent."
Fecchi waved a hand in the air, the bracelets around her wrist clanking. "Den dat leaves us open for attack. Don't be stupid." She snapped.
"So den we wait for them to come charging in, taken our babes and killing the old like they did a thousand years ago?" Retorted Ekkon with a bob of his head.
With a sharp turn of her head, her short dreadlocks swayed, their ends decorated in earthy colored beads. "Not with us on the front lines. We aren't part of da Habe Massai tribe. Bluebeard teaches hate with hate. Yes d'they did that a long time ago. But d'they need us alive for soldiers."
"And-" Ekkon went to say but Ja'harra waved a hand.
"She is right," Slowly she slipped her long curvy legs from the armrest and placed her feet on the furred bear carpet rugs before easing herself up. Her hips moved like the gentle waves of the ocean as she came forward. "He can't destroy what he needs." Ja'harra's brows furrowed, a tilt of her wrist and an upwards flick left her long dreadlocks spilling behind her. Brown and grey feathers were twined within, and her eyes were lined in black Kohl and gold liner. "I will handle him. Where is my daughter?"
"She's on da shore throwing a fit." Ekkon came forward holding a gauzy robe. It wasn't until Ja'harra had dropped the cover that was wrapped around her did one notice she was completely naked.
She shouldered herself inside the robe as Ekkon held it, the fabric fell around her waist and covered a good portion of her nether regions. "Because she read the letter?" Asked Ja'harra, lifting her hair from the inside of her robe so it would fall back into place upon the fabric itself.
Ekkon let out a deep huff, pointing at his blackened eye. No words needed.
"Lucky that was all you got knowing most who face her are usually more crippled than a black eye." Ja'harra laughed. Her daughter was truly blood of her blood.
Ekkon went on to lift his shirt where a bone dagger protruded between the space of his ribs. "Hmm?"
Ja'harra winced. "Still not that bad." Was all she'd said as she paced him and pushed the tent open. The crimson moonlight left her squinted. From here she could see her daughter sulking on the shore. The deep midnight blue waves lapped against the beach, the wind wild in her daughter's dark hair.
Pulling the robe tighter around herself, she approached her, stopping just beside her and taking a long intake of air. "You aren't ready when or if it comes to that." She finally said after a long moment. "I know you opened my letter and saw what was inside. You want to fight, as it is within your spirit to be a fighter. To want to protect your people... me even. But our people come before me, Azariah."
Honeyed gaze which mirrored her mother's trained on the angry ocean stirn by the winds which carried the scent of rage. Most people's vengeance left their blood boiling within their veins, burning them from the inside out until they were consumed. But Azariah was frozen. Rooted to the sands that steadily washed away beneath her feet; the soil of her home, the heart of her people, and most importantly her mother's pride. Her hands clenched and unclenched trying to work through the need to lash out. Not at her mother. Never.
She let out a breath through her nose. "Our people need you, so to protect them means to protect you. Why not send me in your place? The devil will never be satisfied by peace and objections." There was no denial that she had read the letter. She barely managed to leave without ripping it to pieces too tempted to spare her the truth.
Ja'harra's attention shifted to Azariah's swiftly. No longer did she stare at the waves tumbling over one another, she bore into the eyes of her angered daughter with a fury of her own. "And then what? Protect me and the people can still die. Majority over the ruler. That is how we've always worked. Who will protect your brother then while you're running behind my heels? This... This is why I won't give you a higher position than what you have. Because you always choose me."
She sighed, shoulders sinking low while she lowered to sit down. The sand parted beneath her legs and feet as she settled there on the shore. Smaller islands were in the distance, two in which Azaria and Akachi loved to go as children on their small ngalawa's (canoes) they crafted and painted by hand. A lime green, pink, and white Rock Dove soared down from the sky. It's wings opened as it tipped left and right, getting closer and closer and closer. "Another message. The one you kept from me was four weeks old. What did you think hiding it would do?"
Despite having outgrown her mother years ago, Ja'harra's presence always seemed big. Nothing was ever as lively without her. Again and again she was reprimanded for choosing her mother over their people but the choice was always one in the same to her. They couldn't exist without her. She'd spent long nights mulling over what they could do while training until her limbs went numb.
The corner of her mouth tipped into a warm smile when the little bird coasted down from above. "I was buying time. I know there has to be something we can do. Anything but stand by and watch them take everything from us. You say that you keep me lower because of my choices but even that is to protect me. Isn't it?" Finally she peered down at her mother with a full smile on display. Azariah had too much confidence and self assurance they all thought. When she was right, she was right even if they all failed to acknowledge it. At the end of the day there was no way around a hard decision.
Her legs folded beneath her until she sat on her knees, facing her mother in all her finery. They were droplets of molten bronze against the white sands. The seasons change brought a chill to the islands but it still remained warmer than the rest of the world. It was why they still skated by barely clothed when others wrapped themselves in wool and fur. "Akachi could be here with you if you would let me go and fight." Azariah pressed.
"Akacachi can't go and right when people aren't supposed to know he exists. He has to be treated like everyone else. Don't speak on things you know nothing about." Ja'harra said rather calmly, but the wind acted as her anger, blowing their hair away from their faces. "In the eyes of everyone else he isn't my son, only a tool to be had and a weakness for our nation. Thus, he is no one."
The sound of something heavy dropping into the sand brought her attention toward Akachi, his overly curly hair dancing in the air. He had dropped a large stick on the ground, one he had carved into a keen point. His face was twisted into sadness, nose flared, cheeks filled with air as tears dropped down his chin. Akachi hadn't given her time to say anything before he was bounding off into the distance—fast he was, feet tapping onto the sand which propelled him forward. He was always faster than most people here. They called him Swift foot.
Jaharra never wanted him to hear that. Those words could break any child's soul, but somewhere deep down inside she knew that Akachi felt she treated him different; not as her son but an orphan. During her speeches to the people he stood in the crowd and not beside her like Azariah. And so because she treated him with a love that wasn't the love of a mother but someone who felt sorry, so did the people. They gave him affection because they thought his mother died giving birth.
Azariah would ask for forgiveness later after she caught up with her brother. She didn't hesitate running off after him. The words were never meant for him to hear and her foolishness had hurt them all. Years of chasing after him made every stride upon the shifting sands surefooted, long braids twined with beads that mimicked the sound of rainfall slapped against her back with each bound forward.
After a minute of following him along the long stretch of beach until they grew closer and closer to the tall grasses, she finally caught him. Strong arms wrapping around him from behind, ensnaring Akachi in a hug he couldn't escape from. Her chest rose and fell steadily, winded by the chase but that didn't stop her from placing her chin atop his head affectionately. "You know mére loves you all the same, little brother. All the same I'm sorry you heard that." Azariah would have said nothing if she knew he'd been approaching. His life was hard enough without the worry of war. She wanted to spare him of any burdens other than childhood.
Akachi struggled against her hold but stilled once he realized he couldn't escape from those strong arms. Not only was he breathless from running, but also from the tears that kept falling from his eyes. "People don't hide the people they love. I know I'm different." Said the boy breathlessly. Although he couldn't break free, he turned in her hold so he could glimpse up at her. "Look at me." He cried out in anger, his fall hands coiling into tight fists. Just beside them was a large puddle with his reflection. The light skin, the light brown yet sandy-red hair that held soft curls. "They treat me like the pale people. And I know we don't have the same father. That I'm not hers. That my mother slept with some pale man who in turn left her on her birth bed. They pity me, that's the only reason they show kindness." His voice cracked, a bit higher than usual as he panted, still trying to push away from her.
"We don't need the same father to be family. Yours may have been some pale man but we still share the same blood, the same heart." She grasped his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. "I see you. You are my brother. We share the same mother and the same people. They treat you differently only because they don't understand. If you show them the same rambunctious, witty," Azariah reaches up to ruffle his curls. "Adorable Akachi I see every time we swim or race or sit by the fires at night. We only want to protect you." Callused fingers from long days of sparring gently brushed away the tears trailing down his cheeks. "Want me to stab them all for you?"
"Ja'harra said my mother died. Why can't she tell them I'm her son? Why did she lie to me?" Akachi's questions came spewing out one after another, and when she called him cute and ruffled his curls he smiled his little cheesy smile. He tried to push her hand off his head and laughed. "Mother would be mad if you went around stabbing people for me. And knowing you, you'd actual-wy do it." Sometimes he had a speech impediment when he said certain things.
Squirming a little, he slipped from her hold and glimpsed up at her once more. "Are we going to go to war? Bluebeard, I heard Ekkon say, he would sit back and not help since we've wanted peace with the pale men for so long. And mom won't help you fwight."
"Mére is thinking of everyone not just us. Think of how many people she must keep safe. That is why she doesn't think telling them would be good. We may be peaceful but the old ways are still ingrained in us." Azariah smiled at him, letting him pull away and push her off. She could accept it now that he wasn't stricken in tears. Staring down into those wide green eyes it reminded her of how happy she'd been when her mother gave birth to him. Even though everything around Akachi was a secret, her heart had been filled with love from the very first cheesy smile, the very same he flashed at her now.
"We will not go to war. We have stayed out of things this long and it will remain so. Now," A single finger rose to poke the tip of his nose. "Why don't we go do something fun instead? Whatever you like."
Akachi covered his nose with both his hands, his brows dipping down. "I am a man now. Men don't have time for fun." He huffed, thrusting his chest out the way he'd seen Ekkon do whenever he was on duty. His lips were curled into a seriousness that crumbled into another goofy smile that curled like swirls at the edge of his mouth. "But maybe for you I can have some fun... just a little."
"Fun without me?" Ekkon said from behind them. He was mirroring Akachi.
Her eyes narrowed at the man. If he hadn't been one of her mother's most trusted men Azariah would have left him with yet another wound to run off and tell about. "Why would we want you to come and spoil everything? Best to stay where you're wanted." Gently she began to steer Akachi away.
"You know your. muddah (mother) doesn't want you running around by yourself. I stay two paces behind you. As it has always been." Ekkon rolled his head around, stretching his thick neck.
Akachi tugged on his sister's hand, whispering. "Don't be mean to him. I look up to you but I look up to him too. One dway I want to have strong muscles."
Begrudgingly, Azariah nodded her head. "Fine. Fine. Only for you. I will try." Though every footstep that sounded in the dirt behind them was a test to her fraying patience. She wasn't a child anymore and didn't need guarding. At least Akachi had an almost decent man in his life for the father neither of them knew. An arm draped around her brother's shoulders, keeping him close. Always protective of him.
"Can we catch fish and cook them?" Asked Akachi, lifting his head to look up at her as they walked. Dinner was approaching and his stomach was already growling. "Teach me the spear."
"You'll stab yourself in the food." Ekkon commented in a teasing manner.
Akachi laughed. "I'm too swift, aren't I, Azariah?"
"Much too swift. Not even the fish can get away from you. Go get your spear then. You dropped it earlier." She pointed back where they'd both abandoned their mother on the beach.
"Can you get it?" Akachi frowned. "I don't want to see her right now." A sadness filled his voice and one could hear the heartbreak all over again.
Azariah thought on it for a moment. She should have pushed him to act like everything was fine but couldn't bare to make him suffer more. Her family was the only tender place in her heart. "You are lucky that I just happen to be going that way." Jogging over without anymore convincing and retrieving the spear he'd made himself. Akachi had probably been moments away from showing them, proud of his hard work when their mother uttered those devastating words all because of her provocation. Her hands tightened on the wood though she was careful not to snap it.
A quick glance at her mother. "He will be fine," she murmured. "He just needs time." Before heading back over where the two men waited.
"Only if we had enough time." Ja'harra said. "I have a meeting to attend to. Make sure you both rest early tonight." As always, she walked with her chin rose and her shoulders pushed back. "I do this because I love you both." Was all she said before she left back to her tent.
There was something ominous in her mother's words that gave her pause. Had she not already promised her time to Akachi, she would have insisted on going as well. Things grew more complicated by the day and despite her promises they would never see war, Azariah could smell the change in the air.