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Chapter Text

Originally written November 19th, 2023
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Chapter 1

Cass awoke with a sharp intake of breath before she sat up straight. She'd rolled over onto her left arm and the sudden pain from the sensitive limb was enough to wake her up. It was quickly superseded by daggers in her head and stomach; a reminder and warning that excessive celebration was dangerous. Her tent was catching the first rays of the rising sun, diffusing the light into the confined space. The blanket and soft pad beneath her were drenched in cold sweat and she felt a brief chill when she removed herself from the damp fabric.

Hnngh, damned wine. She held one hand to her stomach and the other to her head. If the room didn't stop spinning soon, she was going to lose her...whatever she ate. Did she eat last night? It was all a blur. She remembered the final battle, throwing open the gates, and sneaking into the palace. She remembered the Emperor's personal guards, finding the old man, and-

"Knock knock, General," a deep voice said from just outside Cass's tent, interrupting her train of thought. A shadowy figure had approached without her notice, reaffirming that Cass had drank too much wine the night before. "You up or do I need to fetch some water?"

"Stop talking so loud." Cass winced at the sound of her own voice. Hoarse. Grating.

"I take it I can't come in then?"

"Do and I'll remove your...something," she groaned. Cit was a good second in command and took her hungover threats with all the seriousness they deserved.

"Hah, fair enough. I'll just leave this here then." A hand entered the bottom of her tent's flap and left a clay bowl dripping with thick, foaming, brown contents. "Fresh pot of beer this morning. We all voted you get the first bowl. Get to it before the whole thing dissolves or something, eh?"

Beer was the only thing that sounded good at that moment and Cass crawled over to the brown brew. She grabbed it with her left hand and felt the bowl crack. Damn brittle mud brick. At least the beer was watered down enough that it made the bowl somewhat self-sealing. She carefully cupped the two pieces together with her hands and sipped the thick, bitter, barley mash through a reed straw.

Cass's stomach churned at first, but the more she drank the better she felt. Having something in her belly did wondrous things to stop the nausea. Once the liquid was gone she split the muddy bowl in half again and scraped the mash out to eat. The bitterness on her tongue helped wake her up, and the semisolid texture helped ease itself into her upset gut. She rested on the floor for a few minutes, letting her stomach settle and her headache abate.

Once she felt alive, Cass got ready to face the world. The night before had been one of violence and celebration. Today was the first day of a new era, and she wanted to be presentable. Though she'd wiped off most of the blood and mud the night before, Cass was hoping to visit the royal palace and get a proper bath. Ideally with a special someone. There was a city between her and her goal, though, and she wanted to walk the streets with her head held high.

She started by wrapping a fresh bandage around her left arm. The black, withered limb was a sign of her curse. Her shame. The world was safer if she avoided using it, and she had found that was best done by treating it as an injury. Visions of the day before swam through her mind as she bound the arm but she shook her head to focus on the here and now. Her fighting clothes needed to be cleaned but her ceremonial robes were as pristine as could be, so she pulled those on. Long, flowing, white linen was always comfortable, but more than that it made her feel closer to the purity expected of a leader. She wrapped a sling around her neck to rest her 'injured' arm in and ducked through the tent flap.

Dozens of people worked around her. Carrying lumber, sharpening weapons, washing clothes, the activities of camp were a comforting familiarity. Four people ran past her, chanting a cadence together, there were several soldiers engaging in a calisthenic routine, but more than any of that Cass realized there was singing and dancing. Hardly the military discipline one normally expected, today was a grand day for an exception. They had won. The war was over. So many had died to bring them here. They deserved this.

Cass would have been joining them if she were not on her way to her first bath in months. Her first hot bath in years. She would have been on her way if her stomach had not grumbled in protest; she was hungry. She wanted more of whatever that delicious scent was. Cass followed her nose to a large pot of stew being stirred by none other than her second in command, Cit.

"Ah, there she is. Stew's almost ready. Want to worship at the altar of all things brown and bitter while you wait?" Cit dipped a bowl into the large pot beside him and handed it to her, "Out of reeds, General, so you'll have to-" He stopped as Cass upended the beer and drank rapidly, barley seeds and all, "Yeah, that. Glad to see your appetite's back."

"That's about all that's back," she groaned, handing him the bowl for a refill, "What happened last night? I barely remember returning to camp."

"Well, you killed the Emperor for one thing."

"Yeah, I remember that part." Cass rather wished she didn't. Not only was it against her orders, but the way she'd done it was less than honorable. She didn't burden her subordinates with the details. "What happened after we got back to camp."

"Ah, that's when the fun stuff began."

Chapter Text

Originally written November 26th, 2023
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Chapter 2

When Cit said "fun" he tended to mean one of two things; violent, or embarrassing. Cass had a strong suspicion that she hadn't returned to camp only for things to become violent. She gave him his cue to continue by taking a seat on a sack of grains.

"You rode in on top of a cart full of wine barrels," Cit chuckled at her expression, "Already had a fair few goblets yourself the way you were acting. By the time we tapped the third one you were well on your way to makin' out with half the camp." As she listened, there was a rising tension in her chest and she suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. Cit noticed her distress and added, "Oh don't worry too much about it. Worst thing on you is breakin' Lysander's arm."

Cass coughed and choked on her beer as Cit laughed.

"His own fault, I promise." He patted her on the back. "Damn fool challenged you to arm wrestlin'. After you beat him at spear tossin'. You offered to promote anyone who could throw your swordspear further than you."

"Hardly a fair contest."

"You were all out of your minds by then."

"And you weren't?"

"Someone had to wake up without a hangover to make breakfast. Here." Cit handed her a polished stone bowl filled with a steaming brown liquid. It smelled savory, as opposed to the bitter beer from earlier. She tried to balance the bowl in her outstretched hand while getting rid of the now-empty mud brick. "Don't be afraid to use both hands, general."

Cass yearned to put something besides bitter mash in her stomach and didn't wait for it to cool down.

"Easy there."

"I can handle it," she spat out with a red face, breathing quickly to cool her mouth down, "Where did my swordspear end up? Did I set a new record?"

"I'll tell ya when the scouts get back. I sent them out after you threw it past the edge of the camp. Reckon it made it to the riverbank."

A growing yammer at the back of the line caught their attention. Two people in white were riding their camels through the crowd towards them. They stopped at the head of the line and dismounted. Cass recognized the leader of the pair, Anatu, and knew her headache was about to get worse. Riding around with bare shoulders and stomach? This far from the city??

"General Cassandra," Anatu said, crossing their arms over their chest, "The Council summons you to the Emperor's Palace."

"Council?" Cit's question was incredulous.

"Take it easy, Anatu, I was going to the palace anyway." Cass wanted to ease tension quickly. They had been on the opposite side of the conflict until just over a year ago, and their knowledge of the Desheret defenses had been invaluable, but there was little love among soldiers for traitors. "We're just having breakfast, want to join us?"

"No. I want you to fetch a camel and come with me."

"I'm not leaving until I finish eating. Why don't you move aside so my soldiers can enjoy Cit's cooking?"

"This is not a request, it's an order."

Cass stood up from the grain sack and approached Anatu, slurping stew loudly from her bowl. She was easily two heads taller than the turncoat, and twice as wide at the shoulders. Where Anatu's hair was short, xanthic, and of a cut and style popular among aristocrats in the now-former Desheret Empire, Cass's was long, wild, and dark. She braided it before battle or for special occasions, true, but it was too early to look her best. Too early to deal with this much 'protocol'.

"You aren't in a position to order me, Captain." She was more than happy to remind Anatu of the pecking order, especially when in her own camp, "I don't know who or what this council is, and I only answer to one person. More than that, you are stopping the Thiria from eating a well-earned breakfast." She nodded up over the camp intruder's head. Anatu looked over their shoulder to where, past their camels and companion, quite a number of soldiers with grim faces and empty bowls.

"Fine. Kebb, move them aside. You may all continue your meal."

"Since when are you calling the shots?" Cid asked as the man in long white robes bowed and pulled the camels away. The line reformed and Cit snapped his fingers, gesturing for another soldier to start serving as he walked aside with Cass.

"They aren't calling the shots," Cass assured him, "They're just a messenger now that the war's over."

"So what's this about a council, then?"

"No idea. But if they're important I should probably check it out. Is Cassiopeia ready?"

"Who is that?" Anatu asked.

"My camel."

"Just take another. We cannot spare any more-"

"Can I take yours?"

"What? Of course not."

Cass looked over to Anatu's taller friend. "How about yours?"

"Of course, general," he said, a zen-like ease about him that Cass appreciated.

"Good. I'll take his, and he'll take yours," Cass told Anatu, "You can wait here for mine to be saddled."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Cass looked over to the man who had ridden in with them and asked, "You...what's your name?"

"Kebb, general." He crossed one hand over his chest and bowed from his waist.

"Kebb, who has ranking authority here?"

"You, of course."

"In that case, I order you to take their camel and ride with me to the palace. Anatu, I order you to have a bowl of stew and wait for another camel to be readied." Cass ignored the ensuing protests and walked with Cit over to Kebb's mount.

"I don't like the smell of this, general," Cit said quietly as she climbed into the saddle, "Be careful of this Council. If anyone tries anything funny, don't be afraid to use both hands."

Chapter Text

Originally written December 4th, 2023
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Chapter 3

The city of Dehenet - the former seat of the Imperial throne - sat atop a mesa high above the desert plains. Near-vertical cliffs on every side made assailing the city nigh impossible. Securing the highly defended route up had been a difficult task and Cass had her army camped there to keep it.

“This council,” Cass inquired as they rode up the city’s approach, “does Priestess Helen know of it?”

“Oh my yes,” Kebb said, wide-eyed, “High Priestess Helen ordered the formation of the Council and oversees it.”

“High Priestess? That’s new.”

“Many things have changed. The Council thought it prudent to raise High Priestess Helen above the level of others in the Order, lest any forget it was her divine vision that led to our ultimate victory.” The more Kebb spoke, the more warmth returned to his expression. He was a true believer, and Cass was glad of it.

If anyone deserved to be raised above others, it was Helen. If it was not for her, Cass would not have survived her childhood. More than her life, Helen had saved her home, Liothki, from the kings who thought of the poor as less than slaves. Helen paved the way for revolution, and Cass followed her every step of the way. She was truly an amazing woman.

Cass and Kebb were far from the only people on the road to Dehenet. Messengers were riding camels and horses up and down the path at great speed. They wove between columns of soldiers from the diverse rebel forces and countless retainers and other civilians flowing in and out of the grand capital.

The traffic slowed where a merchant cart had stopped. It stood out against the tan sand and brown stones with gaudy red and blue fabrics draped over angled lengths of wood, forming wide awnings that provided shade to anyone coming to peruse the wares. A piercing voice beseeched the murmuring crowds, shouting over the cacophony of the busy road.

“Water! Fresh cold water! I also have beer and wine!”

Cass could almost taste the wine, but showing up at the palace drunk was a bad idea. A first impression with the new Council could be important, even though she assumed her reputation would precede her through Helen. But it was getting hotter as the sun rose, and she was sweating through her clothes already so getting water was a good idea.

Cass dismounted her camel behind the colorful cart so as to not contribute to the press of bodies trying to circumnavigate it. She felt a near instant relief from the sun as she entered the shade of the awning. It was less crowded than she’d expected; it seemed that people were drifting through the shade but not lingering for long to buy anything.

“Well hello there!” A spritely figure in unique, colorful robes popped up in front of Cass, their hands pressed together as they bowed their head vigorously. “You are clearly a woman of strength. Might I help you?”

Cass’s long white robes could not hide the facts of her powerful physique. Her height alone put her a head above any crowd, and her broad shoulders left little doubt that she could hold her own in a contest of strength. She smiled at the petite merchant and nodded.

“Well yeah, I’m here about that fresh water?”

“Ah yes! Fresh water, fetched from the river - upstream, of course - myself. Unfortunately, I am all out.”

“Oh, that’s-”

“But! I was on my way to procure some more when, travesty of travesties, my cart struck rubble on the road and was damaged.” The merchant grabbed Cass’s arm and pulled, pointing at a cracked wheel. “I am laden with many items to offer the brave soldiers and citizens of the Empi-errr-rebellion and have not the strength to lift and repair my cart. But you! You clearly possess the strength of an ox! Two oxen! Would you do this humble merchant a favor and-”

“Excuse me,” Kebb cut in, grabbing the merchant’s wrist and gently removed their hand from Cass’s arm, “but do you know to whom you speak?”

“I speak to a mighty brave soldier of the rebellion, no?” the merchant asked, looking Cass up and down, “Or perhaps a priestess? But how a holy woman would receive such a grave injury.” They gestured Cass’s left arm, bandaged and wrapped in a sling. “Unless...are you a leper?”

“This is General Cassandra! Leader of the Thiria, Hero of Sammos, Lady of-”

“And I am Fariba of Shen, Captain of Trades, Consort to the throne. We can exchange pretty titles after my cart is fixed, no?”

“It’s fine.” Cass knelt down next to the broken wheel. She slid her bandaged arm out of the sling and under the carriage, lifting it rather easily, but puffed out her cheeks and clenched her jaw to make it look like she was straining.

“Exceptional!” Fariba said, clapping their hands and grabbing a bag out of the cart. They smacked the wheel with a hammer a few times and, with Kebb’s help, pulled it off so that it could be replaced with another one. Within minutes Cass was setting the cart back down as Fariba praised her and Kebb both.

“I, Fariba of Shen, promise you both that the strength of General Cassandra will be known far and wide!” Even as they buttered Cass up, though, the awnings were being pulled down and a camel was being strapped to front and urged to start moving. “I swear to return the kindness you have shown me!” they said, jumping onto the back of the cart as it made its way downhill. It was not until a minute later that the pair realized what happened.

“They stole my camel...” Kebb’s voice sounded stunned, like he had been struck in the stomach.

“No, they stole Anatu’s camel,” Cass chuckled, “Come on, we can ride together.”

Chapter Text

Originally written December 11th, 2023
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Chapter 4

The bright marble walls of the buildings of Dehenet glittered brilliantly in the glaring sunlight. The mesa-spanning city had no exterior walls, which allowed for a gentle breeze to blow away the heat of the day. Wide roads paved with smooth sandstone brick and lined with palm trees gave Cass blessed relief from the harsh sun.

She had only been to Dehenet once before, under the cover of darkness. Cit had planned the assault for a moonless night. Cass remembered scaling the cliffs on the north side - the steepest and most dangerous, therefore the least protected - with a hundred of her own hand-picked Thiria. Hoisting them up with their ropes, sneaking through the besieged capital.

“You needn’t have lied back there,” Kebb said, his tone quiet as they rode their camel.

“What lie?”

“The merchant’s cart. You made a show of straining to lift it.”

“Well, next time you do the heavy lifting, and I’ll make sure no one makes off with a camel.”

“I mean I know of your...affliction. I am a disciple of the High Priestess.”

“A disciple?” Cass tugged on the camel’s reigns a bit sharper than intended and it veered off of the main road. A couple of people ran away, narrowly avoiding being trampled. “You only joined us a year ago. How are you already so close to Helen?” Letting turncoats like Anatu and Kebb into the army in an advisory capacity was one thing. The absurdity of letting them get close to Helen was...infuriating.

“High Priestess Helen raises those of faith and devotion regardless of tenure,” Kebb said, his tone just condescending enough that Cass considered leaving him behind and possibly spraining his ankle in the process.

“You seem to be very faithful for someone who joined so recently.”

“I have been a worshipper of The Flame since childhood.”

“They don’t follow the tenets of The Flame in Desheret.”

“My parents were Sammosan.”

“I-” That took some of the wind out of Cass’s sails. She turned to get a better look at him. His complexion was too dark and his hair and features were distinctly Desheret. Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t look Sammosan.” Being from Sammos, Cass had a good idea.

“My father did not sire me.” The pleasant smile Kebb had worn near continually since she had met him faded, replaced by a slight frown.

“Ah.” Cass frowned too. She guided the camel back onto the road.

The outskirts of the city had been largely untouched, but the closer they got to the palace the more the signs of battle became visible. Pillars had been toppled, roads blockaded, and buildings set ablaze. The last lines of defense.

“May I dismount here?” Kebb asked. They had come upon some other white-robed priests and priestesses were tending to some bodies. There were many, many fallen soldiers to be burned. She watched him join the circle of prayers as more bodies were carefully carried and stacked on a pyre. Cass got off as well and tied the camel to a tree nearby. Kebb would need it more than her.

Continuing on foot, Cass pushed the larger bits of debris in the roadways aside to make enough room to walk through. She did not want to try and detour around the main road since she did not recall the city’s layout. The night before, she had used the rooftops to sneak up to the palace from the far side. After cutting her way through the guards to the emperor, after his pitiful attempts at bargaining for his family’s lives, Cass got so drunk that she remembered nothing about the city.

Sneak, slaughter, drink. Cass’s cycle.

The courtyard outside the palace was a wide-open area offering no shelter against the midday sun. The entrance to the palace was protected by four guards in leather and bronze armor. Two of them crossed their spears to block her progress.

“Halt.”

“What? Why?” Cass was very confused. No one told her to halt that was not an enemy, and she had been summoned here regardless.

“Name and business?”

“General Cassandra? I was summoned here by-”

“Where is your escort?”

“I don’t need an-”

“Disciple Kebb and Captain Anatu were sent to escort General Cassandra here. If you are General Cassandra, where is your escort?”

“I don’t have time for this,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. If these four tried anything she was liable to snap. Her patience, their spears, their necks, something. What in the smoldering embers were these guards thinking? Did they not know who she was? She gave them another look and recognized they wore the brightly colored trousers of the Shen military, so they had been part of the alliance for many years.

Shen... that reminded her of something.

“Do you know the...uh...Consort of the Throne?” She saw their eyebrows raise at the title drop. “I was delayed helping them. Anatu and Kebb are with...Fatiba, helping them load their-”

“You know Fariba?” The guard’s entire posture shifted, his grip on his weapon relaxing, a smile crossing his bearded face.

A dull ache grew in Cass’s jaw as it clenched tightly, containing a litany of creative and colorful swears she had learned from her soldiers over the years.

“Yes, I know Fariba,” she said slowly, measuring out her words, “They...I gave them a camel and helped repair their cart. My escort is with them, heading out of the city.”

The four guards exchanged looks and one leaned in to whisper to the leader.

“Any friend of Fariba is a friend to all of Shen!” he declared, stepping aside and gesturing.

Cass was rooted in place for a moment before bowing her head and passing them. The guards both did and did not do their job, so she was going to have them replaced. With some of her own soldiers. Perhaps even make a public display of it. Her plans slowly faded as she entered the palace and escaped the tyrannical gaze of the sun.

Chapter Text

Originally written December 18th, 2023
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Chapter 5

Thick stone walls and high, thin windows let the city breeze in but kept the heat out of the palace. There were no torches or lamps to assist the sunlight; a task slaves would have undoubtedly performed before the sun ever rose should their masters have been in a position to give orders any more.

The absence of lavish decorations inside the palace brought a smile to Cass. She’d ordered her soldiers to take everything that wasn’t nailed down and destroy it, and it was apparent that even after she had departed to celebrate they had taken it to heart. There were a few overturned statues with missing pieces, and the shredded remains of fine fabrics clung to the higher arches of windows and wall hangings. All else was gone. Vacant rooms of painted stone and tile.

It made the palace feel smaller, somehow. Without anything to occupy the vast space it rang out hollow, and Cass’s boots echoed with each step. The thin streamers of sunlight did nothing to warm the cool air, making the vacancy all the more enjoyable.

This was success. This was victory.

She crossed the grand hall and walked over the dais where a throne had once sat. She heard voices echoing out of a smaller room off of the back wall. A place where the Emperor and his advisors probably discussed things but was now a room where the Council wanted to meet.

Cass saw them standing around a large, cracked, marble table. It looked like a leader from each of the nations allied in the rebellion. Sammos, Shen, Gymir, Chol, and Harenae all represented, and each of the representatives gave her looks as sharp as daggers.

“A general should not be late when ordered to come to the Council,” the woman from Chol said. Her purple tunic was lavishly trimmed with gold filigree and hung off of her shoulders and arms, giving her an almost figureless shape.

Cass was taken aback by her tone. “I-”

“And you had your unruly rabble vandalize this palace!” The man from Harenae was not dressed as boisterously as his peers. Rather, he was wearing white robes not dissimilar from Cass’s own, marking him as a follower of the Flame. Cass was only slightly less angered by him interrupting her for that, but she would not have him insult her soldiers.

“Listen here-”

“Your robes are filthy.” The spritely man from Shen - whose outfit was a clashing assault on the senses - ran his finger down a thin, pointed beard as he clicked his tongue. “Blood on your cheek? Dirt? That could be seen as a sign of disrespect.” His artificial smile did nothing to mask the contempt in his eyes.

Cass slammed her fist into the table, silencing the squawking Council with a loud boom and adding a few new cracks to the smooth white surface. Her jaw worked as she swallowed the worst of what she wanted to say; direct, detailed, bodily threats. The anguish she could put them in for the way they were treating her. She deserved better than this.

“And just why should the general show you any respect?”

The soothing, commanding voice cut through Cass’s clouded thoughts like a knife through butter. The councilmembers all bowed and Cass turned around.

Helen, standing at all of three and a half cubits, smiled up at Cass and gave her a wink. “Calm yourself, Cassandra.” Helen touched Cass on the elbow. Her golden hair caught the sun through the window and seemed to glow with its own radiance. She shook her head to one side and Cass stepped out of her way so that she could stand by the table. The council members stood upright again, their postures no longer tall and haughty.

“I am waiting for an answer. Why should she show the least bit of deference to anyone here?” Helen asked.

The council members exchanged glances. Cass could see uncertainty pass between them. Cowardice in the face of an actual challenge. Their silent admission of weakness made her feel great.

“High Priestess,” the Haranae man said, half bowing and crossing his hand over his chest, “You chose us to-”

“General Cassandra fought and bled more for our cause than anyone else in this room,” she tapped the table with her index finger for emphasis, “She was unaware of the formation of this Council. What right do any of you have to criticize any of her decisions? Without Cassandra and her brave Thiria we would not be here, in this room, in the Emperor’s Palace. Look beyond your egos and consider that for a moment.”

Cass had a hard time looking beyond her ego at that instant. She felt pride swelling in her chest. Recognition. From the person she admired most in the world. It was a heady feeling, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. Cass tried her best not to smirk at the Council and instead kept herself solemnly silent behind Helen.

“The General was unaware of this Council’s formation,” Helen continued, “She was taking a well-earned respite to celebrate our victory. When we sent for her she was right to come here immediately. Punctuality over presentation.”

Cass glanced down at her white robes. They had certainly gotten dirty on the way up to the palace. Kneeling down to lift a cart, walking through the streets after leaving the camel behind for Kebb, and moving rubble aside was not clean work.

“You all discuss the agenda for the meeting, I am going to speak with General Cassandra for a moment.”

The sun-haired priestess turned and walked out of the room. Cass watched her go, gave the council members one more look, and followed Helen away.

Chapter Text

Originally written December 26th, 2023
------------------------

Chapter 6

Cass followed Helen out of the meeting chamber and into a corridor with nary a bauble or sprig of holly to hint at the wealth once contained therein. Her soldiers had done a thorough job looting the once grandiose palace, rendering it down to the truth of the fallen Empire; barren, empty, and worthless. Her pride was only overshadowed by her delight at being alone with Helen.

“Well,” the golden-haired priestess began, crossing her arms and looking up at Cass, “I am very disappointed in y-woah!” Cass slid her bandaged left arm carefully underneath Helen and lifted her. She pulled the beautiful woman in for a kiss only to find her lips meeting a soft, dark cheek as Helen turned her head.

“Cassandra, please,” Helen said quietly through gritted teeth, “My ladies-in-waiting spent all morning painting my face. I cannot have you smearing it before I face the Council again.”

“So what? Let them simmer in jealousy.” Cass tilted her head to try again. “It’s been ages since we were alone together.”

“Do not be uncouth, Cass!”

Cass groaned and set her back down, rolling her eyes. “I thought the whole point of this was so we didn’t have to hide anymore.” She could feel the desire to break something - like the wall - rising again. Her hands trembled. Perhaps the Council was more in the way than she’d thought.

“You can’t behead generations of tradition as easily as a single man,” Helen said, reaching up to caress her cheek. “It takes time to bring people around, and flaunting such indiscretions will only slow down our goals.”

The words logically made sense, but they did nothing to calm her down. Commoner and priestess, words that meant nothing in the grander scheme of things. Nothing now that the Emperor was decapitated. An outdated caste system that died with the King of Sammos. When the Empire came to reinstitute the monarchy she had stopped it as well. They’d taken the fight, hand-in-hand, across the land to the Imperial Throne itself. Cass stood there with the Emperor’s blood dried on her cheek, Helen’s fingers tracing the pattern.

The social divide should mean nothing for her. For them.

“What if we just leave?” Cass asked, running her fingers through Helen’s long, golden hair, “Just you and me. We can go back to Sammos like we always wanted.” The fantasy had been so distant when the war began. But now it was there, at their fingertips. Cass could taste it.

The beautiful priestess sighed and shook her head slowly. “We can’t just leave. What about our soldiers? What about the people here? The city would fall into chaos and its citizens would suffer for our freedom.” Helen always had a way of cutting to the heart of a problem the way Cass could cut to the heart of an enemy.

“The people can stay as they are. They’re free! They can learn to live together without the yoke of an oppressor over them. Our soldiers can go home. We’re not conquerors.” A part of her knew they couldn’t just leave, but she would. If Helen agreed, she would.

“It’s more complicated than that. Cass, I trusted you to lead us in war. Can you trust me to lead us in peace?”

Of course Cass trusted Helen to lead. She had followed the priestess since before she’d taken the white cloak. Since they had been children. Helen was everything Cass wanted to be, and if she thought it was better for them to remain as they were for a little bit longer then Cass could wait. But she wasn’t happy about it.

“Fine,” she said, turning to lean against the cool stone wall and sliding down to sit on the floor, “Of course. Sorry Helen, I’m being a fool again.” She buried her face in her hand. Helen slowly slid her fingers into Cass’s long, coarse hair. Always so gentle, so careful. Cass reached up to touch the soft fingers affectionately.

“You’re no fool,” Helen said, “you’re just...you simplify things. It’s part of your charm.”

“If only I could simplify the Council,” Cass muttered, “Why do we need them? What’s the point of them?”

“We made promises to gain allies. They are here to make sure we fulfill them.”

“They trusted us to lead them in war,” Cass looked up at Helen and grinned, “Can’t they trust us to live up to our promises in peace?”

Helen returned Cass’s smirk with one of her own. “Again, it’s more complicated, but I think you knew I’d say that. Leaders always want to lead, Cass. Only the best, like you, know when to follow.”

The delicate hand slid down Cass’s good arm and their fingers laced for a moment, distracting her from the questions of leadership and their dream of a world without Kings. Helen guided Cass back to a standing position and gave her a soft hug. Then she smiled up at her again, soft eyes glowing warm.

“Now, go wash up. The Council and I have a few non-military matters to discuss so you need not worry about things. Just politics and planning. I would take you to the bath myself but I need to make sure the Council stays in line, I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Cass said, trying and failing not to sigh. Helen clearly picked up on her disappointment and patted her on the arm.

“Why don’t you go find palace maid and some wine? You can wassail to your heart’s content then come rejoin us once you’re presentable.” Helen took Cass’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Oh, and braid your hair, it looks nicer.”

“I w-,” Cass had planned to do just that once her hair was clean, but she pulled back on her retort. She’d been combative enough and didn’t want to upset Helen. “I will,” she said with a smile and nod.