Writing: Nuada and Argyros

    Would you look at that? I actually have something else to post for Nuada. Actually, technically speaking, I have had more to post, but until now, it hasn't been very much.

    I sat down this afternoon to work on the bit that follows directly after the section I posted earlier this month. Be warned that it's a bit choppy; my groove is off when it comes to writing anything of length or quality.


     The diner they’d been instructed to meet Mr. Stafford in was run-down and not a name brand chain restaurant, meaning it was likely a family owned business. Nuada had seen worse in the past several weeks of her life though, and parked the car alongside an old pickup that seemed familiar to her.
    The silence in their vehicle was deafening once the radio was turned off along with the engine, and Argyros was the first to break it, as he had so often in the past few days.
    “Stafford said to meet him here?”
    Nuada didn’t afford him a glance as she twisted around to grab her messenger back from the back seat. It held most of her dad’s information along with her own findings over the years. “Yes. Gram’s Burgers, Alcair, Indiana.”
    He shrugged in her peripherals and got out of the car, stretching to try and remove the kinks from his tall frame.
    Getting out herself, Nuada could feel the ever present aches making themselves known as she stood up, but she resisted the urge to stretch as well. Instead, she locked the car and slid the keys into her pocket.
    Taking in the red Ford pickup once again, she identified it as Mr. Stafford’s 1989 F150 Ford. Also known as his pride and joy. Nuada held memories of that green truck from when she was just a child.
    Turning her attention to the diner, she led the way up the steps and in the front door. Argyros came behind and frowned at the smell that greeted them once inside.
    “It smells like grease...” He said under his breath, and this time Nuada’s gaze flicked his direction for a moment.
    After she pressed down the comeback that came to mind, she quickly located Mr. Stafford at a table with several other people, most of which she had no memories of.
    One was Harold Johnson, who she knew to be a good friend of Mr. Stafford, but Nuada’s gut twisted when she realized who it was sitting with her back to the room.
    Stafford noticed them in the relative emptiness of the restaurant and rose.
    “Nuada, it’s great to see you.” He said by way of greeting, and she shook his hand, almost numb with shock.
    Maggie. What’s going on here?
    “It’s been a while, Argyros,” the older man continued, sincere but it was clear he was relieved to see the two of them. “We were beginning to wonder if you guys had gotten the wrong diner.”
    Nuada forced her mind back to the present, straightening her shoulders, and her chin rose from its lowered position. Ten people at the table, a mixture of men and women, Maggie and Mr. Stafford not included. Maggie still hadn’t turned around to face them and somehow, Nuada wasn’t surprised.
    I wouldn’t be feeling too chatty at this point either.
    She wasn’t an idiot though. Nuada had a good understanding of her feelings and knew that anger was kindling inside of her along with the sharp sting of betrayal.
    “I’d love an explanation,” the young woman said after a moment, not bothering to even attempt at pleasantries. “First of all, to the purpose of this meeting, and second, Maggie Titus, what in the world are you doing here?”
    Argyros touched her shoulder and she could see that he was winding up for a calming speech already. She wasn’t wrong.
    “Nuada, there’s a lot to talk about that you don’t know, alright? We need to talk about Dad, what killed him, why it killed him, and—how Maggie is involved in all of this.”
    She tightened her jaw and addressed her friend. “Are you going to stand up and look at me, Maggie? Because sitting there is not going to change the fact that you lied to me.”
    “Have a seat, both of you,” Mr. Stafford said, warning in his tone that Nuada ignored along with his request.
    She was tired. She was sore. She hadn’t eaten much since the day prior, and she had no idea what was going on. Why was Maggie here? What was her purpose? Had she known all along—
    “You knew where he was, didn’t you?” Nuada said, even as her best friend for a decade turned in her seat to meet her gaze. “All that time. And you were keeping in touch, weren’t you?” She looked to her brother. “Which means that you knew as well.”
    The answer was in both of their eyes and it was a blow that Nuada had wished wouldn’t come.
    Her laugh was bitter as she rubbed her forehead before she face Maggie again, her throat tight.
    “You know what, Maggie? I actually thought for a long while that maybe, just maybe, I had one person on my side. One person, and you were it, Maggie. Mom died, Argyros left, and Dad hardly noticed I was alive, but you were there,” Nuada took in a breath, determined to speak her mind. “You were there, Mags, and yet you were lying to me the entire time.”
    “Nuada, let me explain—“ the other female tried to explain, rising carefully from her seat at the full table.
    “No.” She bit out, voice hard and uncompromising even in a moment of brief unsteadiness. “No. I’m done with explanations from you. I’m done with all these lies. My life has been nothing but lies and I am done.”
    Silence reigned around the diner table’s occupants. Mr. Stafford appeared ready to intervene and Nuada forced herself to ignore the pain on Maggie’s face at her harsh words.
    Forcing her eyes away, she looked to Stafford. “I would like to get some answers, Mr. Stafford, but I want them to come from you.”
    The man nodded, his features grim and she could only imagine what he might be thinking.
    “And I want him,” the young woman jerked a thumb at her brother where he stood only a few paces away. “Out of my car. If there isn’t extra space, he can buy himself a new ride.”
    “Nuada, come on, we need to talk about this,” Agryos protested, stepping forward and she rounded on him.
    “No, you are done talking. You and her. Both of you have done your utmost best at stabbing me in the back and I refuse to spend my time second guessing everything that comes out of your mouth.” An angry fire kindled in her silvery eyes that caused him to close his mouth.
    Her hand tightened on the strap of her messenger. “What motel are you all at, Mr. Stafford?”
    “Roadside Inn, just down the street, back towards the center of town.”
    She nodded once, a sharp movement. “I’ll meet you here in the morning and we’ll talk.”
    “Alright. I’ll be here.”
    Nuada turned on her heel and began walking back towards the door. “Get your stuff out of my car, Argyros, or you won’t be seeing it again until tomorrow.”
    “Nuada—“ she heard Maggie call and she couldn’t help herself. She paused and looked back at the other woman, taking in the tears in her eyes.
    “Please come back?” Her friend asked, voice shaky. “Please? I didn’t want to hurt you, but it was better for you this way.”
    “My father is dead, Maggie. My mother is dead. My brother left. And you lied to me for years. How can you know what is good for me?” Nuada’s voice was flat and unaffected as she worked to wall up her heart against the one person she loved most in the world.
    She left to the sound of Maggie’s first sob. Argyros was silent and angry as he retrieved his gear from the front seat and trunk. Nuada refused to flinch as he slammed the door and stalked back inside.
    As she slid into the driver’s seat, the girl felt moisture fill her eyes and knew that what she usually did when she was this upset was call Maggie.
    Her head ached as she started the old Mustang and backed out of the diner’s parking lot to find the motel even though she just wanted to drive. Drive far, far away and hope that the pain would stay behind.


    I shall now be abnormal and put a note between bits. Between this blurb and the next, there is either a handful of weeks or months that occur, and during that time, something happened that caused Nuada to allow an uneasy alliance between herself and Argyros and Maggie. Granted, Maggie is not in this scribble, nor the one I'll put in after it, but just be aware that she is part of the vague acceptance that is seen between Nuada and Argyros.


       Nuada hung her coat on the back of the bathroom door, wincing as she moved her shoulder. Her boots scuffed the floor as she moved back to look in the mirror, taking in her ragged appearance... and the blackness spreading beneath her skin. It was in her veins, working its way up her neck now.
    Gritting her teeth, Nuada pulled her shirt off to check the damage near the actual wound; a sliver of a cut on the outside of her arm from the attack they’d fended off two days ago. She’d been able to stave off the effect it had on her until tonight with painkillers and caffeine, but now it was starting to hurt to move it at all, which meant driving was fast becoming an impossibility.
    It was actually kind of disturbing, the way it looked. It was dark as it crept through her blood-vessels, as if it were some twisted ivy crawling through her body. Running a hand through her hair to remove it from her eyes, Nuada contemplated what she was going to do about it.
    Then, her brother jimmied open the bathroom door.
    Nuada froze, gaze on Argyros in the mirror, and a moment later her reaction was to snatch up her shirt from the sink and hold it to her chest.
    “Get out!” She said in a contained shout, aware of both the motel’s thin walls and the determination in his gaze.
    “No. Nuada, that is Fae poisoning and if you leave it unchecked it’s going to kill you.” Argyros seemed to by trying to rein in his emotions, but she could see the anger and pain on his face.


    I think that scribble is a bit revealing as to their occupation, seeing as I haven't written anything to really explain it yet. Although the way their father died is a bit explanatory, in its own way. Basically, fantastical beings that are in our day and age. Nothing magicky, but a lot of supernatural in the way of fantasy. Dragons, Fae, shape-shifters (although only humanoid, to my knowledge) and so on and so forth.

   The next bit is a roundabout introduction of someone who becomes very important to Nuada for reasons that I have yet to nail down for certain. It's also one that I plan to continue, perhaps today if I'm in the mood. Again, this is anywhere from a few days to a month or two since Nuada had Fae poisoning. I'm really fluid when it comes to the passage of time, as I'm sure you've found out by now.


    Nuada lifted her head painfully when she heard the scuff of feet on the floor, sure that her captors had returned to continue their interrogation. She had no idea as to how much time had passed since they’d grabbed her from the front of the motel.
    The overhead light fizzled on, momentarily blinding her. Even when she did recover, the world was viewed through the slits her bruised eyes left.
    Her shoulders ached and her wrists had long since gone numb from the weight of her body straining upon them.
    “Well, you look awful,” an unfamiliar voice said, loud in the silence.
    Nuada squinted through her limited vision, trying to see the face to the voice so she could know whether help had come.
    “I’m going to get you down. Here, hook your toes in my pant pockets and push yourself upwards to get your weight off your arms, okay?”
    She let her head fall backwards, letting out a shuddering breath as the pressure of hands appeared on her waist.
    “Come on, work with me,” he coaxed and Nuada roused herself enough to do as he’d requested.
    The material of his jeans was strange against her bare feet, but Nuada was too far gone to care much about it. Her legs protested as she tightened her muscles and eased herself upwards. The result wasn’t too stable, but the relief that came to her arms and wrists made tears well in the girl’s eyes.
    “Take it easy,” the voice said, quiet and almost soothing in its gentleness. “I’ve got you.”
    She felt a hand against her skin, brushing against the palm of her hand, and then her right side was loosed from the manacles. The male grabbed her forearm and pulled it forward until it rested on his shoulder.
    “Lean on me. Keep your weight off your left wrist until I pick the lock.”
    Still unable to speak, Nuada just obeyed, straining to keep herself from going limp and dislocated her arm further.
    The click came again and she dropped, but her fall was stopped by a tight embrace around her torso, holding her upright.
    “Easy, easy,” the man said in her ear and Nuada felt her toes dragging against the ground before she was eased to the floor, the back against her wall.
    Her head was carefully leaned against the concrete and the coolness of it caused her skin to prickle. Nuada sat, boneless and limp, with no compulsion to find out who had ended her pain.
    “We’re going to have to go soon, before your jailors get back.”


    And that's the extent of my Nuada scrawls for the moment. Her story is one I keep coming back to, though, so expect to see more of it in the future, as I get the motivation to write down more. I want to attempt to put more explanations in, such as the mysterious rescuer, so I have to work out how I want those blurbs to go before I can write/post any of the stuff that I have swimming in my head.

    As usual, I truly hope that you've enjoyed this and please leave feedback should you have any to give. (Finding I have comments to moderate tends to make my day, I've found.)
    As astra per aspera.
    To the stars, through difficulties.

Writing: Garrett and Breen

    I don't even know where to start with these two. I haven't written much for them, but they've grown in my head a lot, so know that the stuff I post here isn't nearly all of it, just the stuff I felt the inclination to put pen to paper for. Er, finger to keyboard for.

   The inspiration for Breen and Garrett came from the series The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins. Mainly, the brokenness of the characters in the last book. A lot of Garrett was based on Haymitch and how he dealt with his time in the Games, while Breen started similar to Katniss and bloomed into something else entirely.

   There isn't much in Breen and Garrett's story that is humorous or light hearted. They are broken people living in a world trying to recover itself after a time of fighting, pain, and death. Breen lost both her family and herself in the concentration camp where she'd been imprisoned because of her father's role in the government. I don't know about Garrett yet, but he's experienced a lot of pain as well. His is subtler, but it's definitely there.

   My bits pick up when Garrett and Breen, rescued from the camps for some time (maybe a year?) are travelling with Ryan and Miriam Wiley on a campaign of sorts to put Ryan in charge of the healing nation. Part of their campaign is reminding the people of what the country has gone through and what they can't go back to, and they use Garrett and Breen as an example of the horrors they must escape.

   Once again, I've haven't written much for them, so there'll just be a couple blips that I have written.


    The worst part was that they didn't seem to care.
    She screamed for them to just kill her and let the pain stop, and their faces never changed, never flinched. Her tortured cries and anguished sobs never had any effect on them.
    And that may have been the worst part in Breen's pain. Not the torture, physical or psychological, but the inhumanity of it. The detachment from the belief that human life is something sacred to be protected.


    Garrett lounged in his chair on the stage, watching the crowd with a disgruntled expression.
    The head of this whole fiasco, Ryan Wiley, stood with his hands spread as he repeated a speech Garrett had heard countless times, with just a few tweaks to make it a bit different from his last.
     He was aware of Breen’s presence to his right, where she sat with her head bowed, gaze on the ground. The previous night had been another long one for her. Everyone in their campaign party probably knew it, considering the way her screams had resounded through the train in the night.
    The man squinted up at the partially cloudy sky, his head aching from the light. He hadn’t slept the prior night either, and having to be here at this motivating speech thing was eating away his nap time.
     Already having spoken his small part, Garrett was able to deduce they were over halfway done. Breen would speak right before the end, and was usually able to come up with something that portrayed all that had happened to her with only a few words. As long as it was a good day.
     A bad day could equate to a simple line about change, which Miriam no doubt had tried to get her to say at some past gathering like this one.
    He let out a silent sigh, shifting in his hard-backed chair to see if it alleviated the pain in his back.
    “—Breen Avery and Garrett Jarbow are reminders of what we cannot allow this country to sink back into!” Wiley said into the microphone, voice loud with his urge to drive the point home. “They fight everyday to regain who they were before their arrest and subsequent torture.” He turned to look back at the two, sorrow in his eyes. “Breen, would you mind joining me?”
     Garrett watched as she got to her feet to do her odd shuffle-walk towards Wiley, and noted that he, wisely, did not extend a hand to aid her.
     Most of their horrors had been similar, but some had been entirely different. His memories of those ones made him drink more. Hers made her refuse any form of touch, whether intentional or not.
     Ryan continued to talk, but the male tuned it out, mind going back to where it always did when he had nothing better to do. Every moment he’d spent in the camps that Walker wanted to use as an example had been burned into his memories, inescapable even in the deepest sleep or glass.
     So lost was Garrett in his own thoughts that he nearly missed Breen’s closing words.
     “—would rather face the horrors of that camp a hundred times over before I had to watch anyone else suffer like we did,” she spoke into the microphone, voice unsteady, like it usually was if she decided to speak.


   When the two of them were finally free to live their lives as they pleased, they knew there was no way they were going to be able to part ways.
  There were no words needed that day.
  Garrett had hoisted the one bag that carried all of their things and held out a hand for Breen to take. She'd been reluctant to take that first step off the train, knowing that they wouldn't be coming back to it.
  They had no place to go, but they had money that had been donated by supporters of the Ryans to give them something to start with.


   And that's about it for them. I think I've got more in notebooks, but considering the numerous notebooks I have got... it would take more than a little while to actually find the small scrawls I've done. So.

   I'm not going to say I hope you enjoyed it, but perhaps you found it interesting? Feel free to leave a comment if you've got any pressing issues/opinions on this drabble of mine. Thank you very much for reading.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulty.

Writing: Kadin

    I love being able to find a spare minute to scrawl out a post real fast, especially in the madness that has been my family's Christmas season this year.

   There isn't very much to tell about the bit I'm posting. Most everything is explained in the contents of the scribble, so you should be able to figure it out without an extensive explanation about the background events. Though, I will tell you that Kadin's father used to be a fighter as well before he was injured badly in a fight that put him in a wheelchair.

   Sometime after the injury, he lost part of himself in anger and the want for vengeance, so he's driving Kadin hard to try and get back at the man who paralyzed him through her.

   Yeah, it's messy.


     Kadin knew she was off her game in the moments following her mistake. She’d flinched right when she’d caught the glinting fist aimed for her head and had pulled up her guard to catch it, leaving her left side wide open.
     A hiss of pain escaped her when the robot landed a heavy blow to her midsection, and she knew that that wouldn’t be the end of it, because the automaton was programmed to press any advantage it received, to go straight for the knock-out.
     In a way, it was far more fearsome than any human opponent was, because, while she might be able to call a timeout, until the time that she did, it would not stop.
     Gritting her teeth, Kadin took two rapid steps back to try and regain her footing before he threw it off all together, bringing her hands up into a defensive position just in time.
     The silvery fist was just beginning its descent to try and catch her underneath her guard when Kadin felt a familiar buzz in the back of her skull.
     “Timeout!” She shouted, telling herself to not feel too relieved.
     Saved by the call, the young woman mused as the robot straightened and developed what she’d titled “standby mode”, which he’d remain in until she was ready to continue their spar.
     Kadin ducked down between the ropes surrounding the square fighting ring, pushing the hair that had escaped her tight ponytail out of her eyes as the buzzing continued in her head.
     Dash, dash. Pause. Dash, dash, dash. Pause. Dash, dash.
     A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. Mom. She clicked her back teeth to pick up the call via the device embedded deep in her ear; an upgrade her father had designated necessary.
     “Hey, Mom, what’s up?” Kadin said in greeting, taking a seat on the bench near the ring and grabbing her towel.
     “Kadin! It’s so good to hear your voice,” her mother sounded relieved, as she usually did when they hadn’t been in touch since that morning.
     “It’s been maybe ten hours since we talked last, Mom,” she reminded, wiping the moisture of her brow and then glancing around for her water bottle.
     The silver exterior was beaded with condensation from the cold contents, and it felt good in Kadin’s hands.
     “I know, but I worry about you. Did you eat lunch? Actually, no, I’m focusing. I want you to come home for dinner.”
     The fighter paused mid-swig of her water, then lowered the bottle. She can’t have possibly asked Dad. There’s no way he’d approve of this. “I’m kind of busy, Mom...” Kadin said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
     “No, you’ve said that every night for the past two weeks and I won’t take it anymore. You can tell your coaches or your friends or your sponsors that you’re having dinner with your parents tonight.” The older woman sounded far more heated than Kadin was used to, but she took it in stride.
     Her voice was quiet as she replied, “Mom, the nationals are next week, and if I don’t qualify for the worldwide—“
     If I don’t qualify, Dad will—I don’t know what he’ll do, but I don’t want to find out.
     Aloud though, she said, “It’ll be another two years before I get a shot at this if I don’t make it this round. I’ve already failed once.”
     And she could still see the bruises on her Mother’s wrists from that failure.
     “Kadin, sweetheart, you’re amazing. You know you can do it. You practice all day, every day, and if you’re not doing that, you’re talking strategies with the Barton’s. All I want is to see my baby girl at the kitchen table and getting a full meal under my supervision. Just this once, please.”
     The young woman swallowed back the emotion that threatened, looking at the walls of her boxing gym. I don’t care what he’s going to say. I have to do this for Mom. “Alright, Momma. When do you want me to come?”
     The relief on Marina Evans’ voice was clear as she said, “Whenever you finish up for the evening.”
     “Give me an hour then,” Kadin leaned back, looking up at her sparring pal who still stood in standby. “I need to finish up this round then get cleaned up.”
     Despite the unease roiling in her gut, it felt good to hear her mother’s cheer coming through the connection. The older woman closed the link after a few more moments and several good-byes.
     Kadin sat for another moment when silence fell, contemplating the wisdom in her decision. Dad wouldn’t be happy, the Barton’s wouldn’t be happy, but her Mom would be, and that was her sole wish. Keep Mom happy... and safe.
     She was just rising when the buzzing in her head came again, this time the pattern spelling out A. Barton. Great.
     “Hey,” the fighter greeted, wandering up the steps and ducking back into the ring. “I was just going to call you.”
     “Glad I beat you to it,” Antonia said with dry humor.
     Victor and Antonia Barton were some of the hand-fighting world’s most renowned coaches... and some of its greatest legends.
     They’d both fought in the ring before they got married, but it was after they did that they’d made their names known. There were singular, duo, and tri fights. Kadin specialized in singular, much like her father had. The Barton’s were “Dryads”, two fighters who went up against other two-member teams.
     That, however, hadn’t been where their success came from. It was when they qualified for two-on-three fights that the news had exploded with news of them and sponsors had been lining up to help them.
     The Barton’s had taken on the world-reigning Triad team, almost seven years ago now. It had been them against three of the best men the globe had to offer.
      And they’d won.
     “What can I help you with?” Kadin asked, perching on the ropes and eyeing her sparring automaton critically. Was that some wear and tear on his left leg?
     “It was about tonight’s meeting. Our reservation got thrown out the window by some bigwig who apparently outranks a couple of hand-fighting coaches, so Vic suggested I actually call and ask if you had a place you’d rather eat at,” her female coach said, sounding quite intent to get this all figured out.
     They’d only been her instructors for the past year, a relatively short time in the fighting world, but her father had had a specific goal in mind when he’d hired them as her trainers. Along with ranking at the top of the singular, mixed fights, he expected her to dominate in the two on one matches as well. The Barton’s purpose in her life was to teach her how to fight when she was outnumbered.
     “I actually can’t make it tonight, Antonia. Something came up just a couple of minutes ago and I’m busy. We’ll have to try for breakfast or something tomorrow.”
     There was a long silence and then the woman drew out, “I... see. You realize the nationals are in a week, Kadin?”


   This bit was the perfect example of how most my bits work. I got halfway through the next sentence and then didn't ever write anything else for it. Aherm.

   I hope you liked this small scrawl and thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave feedback, should you have any to give. I'd love to hear it.

   On another note, I might be posting more of Nuada sometime, if I can get together my brain to write something more substantial. She's been very active in my head, and I'd really like to flesh out the rest of the characters, so. Be on the look out for that, and otherwise I'll probably have some other scribbles... sometime. We shall see.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulties.

Writing: Marks and Kelsey

   That's his last name and her first name, just FYI.
 
   Sergeant Alexander Marks and Kelsey Delanie aren't my oldest characters and nor are they my newest and to be honest, I can't recall even vaguely where the inspiration for them came from.

   The setting is a bit abstract, and I apologize for that. It's not on Earth, to the best of my knowledge, but the war that they're fighting is similar to our World Wars.

   The cuts from scribble to scribble may be a bit disjointing, something that I've never been very good at avoiding, but when I have a bit to write, I usually just write it and skip the in-between information.

   So. Onwards we go.


    Sergeant Alexander Marks tucked his helmet beneath his arm as he made his way through the bustling hospital, attempting to find the ward he’d been directed to. His steps were heavy as he rethought how he would inform the woman he sought of her loss.
     A sign read “Ward 3”, and after a moment he pushed the door open.
     All the beds within were full, the air heavy with various odors, the strongest of which was the sterilizer they probably used to clean everything.
    “Miss Kelsey Delanie?” the sergeant called out to the room at large.
     A young woman appeared from behind a curtain, pulling off a pair of rubber gloves. “Can I help you, sir?”
     “I need to speak with you, Miss Delanie,” he said, glancing around at the wounded soldiers then back at her. “Maybe in the hall?”
     The nurse smiled, nodding. “We can do that. Hang on a second.”
     She hurried back out of sight, and Alexander heard her say, “I’ll be back to finish your examination in a minute, Patrick. The sergeant just needs to tell me something real quick.”
     He wasn’t sure how willing she’d be to continue working after he’d finished with his news. The duo stepped out into the hall, and Marks couldn’t help feeling tormented at the fact that her guileless eyes would soon be filled with sorrow.
     “Miss Delanie, I’m Sergeant Marks from the 53rd Armed Contingent. I’m here to inform you that my patrol found a family, which has been identified as yours.” It was hard to keep his composure as fear crossed her features.
     “Th-there was a mortar attack earlier. Are they okay?”
     “I’m sorry, ma’am. They must’ve been on their way to their designated bombing shelter because of the drill and got caught by the mortars. We were barely able to identify them when we found them.”
     One of her hands lifted to cover her mouth, and Marks could see it trembling from his standing point a few feet away. “A-all of them a-are---“
     “Yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
     The woman tottered to the wall, shoulders shaking as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Th-thank you… for telling me yourself, Sergeant. Thank you.” Her voice caught, and a sob broke from her throat.
     “Do you need me to call someone?” Marks asked, taking a partial step forward and extending a hand towards her.
     The woman didn’t seem to hear and she slid to the floor, hiding her face in her arms.
     “Kelsey? Sergeant, what’s going on?” a white-dressed nurse appeared in his peripherals, and Marks turned to her.
     “I was informing Miss Delanie of her family’s deaths, ma’am,” he murmured, working to keep his composure.
     Tears filled the newcomer’s eyes. “Oh…oh no… Kelsey?” She crouched down to be at the younger woman’s level. “Kells, talk to me.”
     Sergeant Marks backed away, knowing that he had to return to his post, but wishing that there was something else he could do.

     “You can’t send her there,” Marks interrupted, gritting his teeth. “You know as well as I do that the journey alone could kill someone, not to mention what state the base will be in when she’d arrive.”
     “Sergeant, we don’t have a choice. Singles living facilities are maxed out, and there is no one in the family facilities has the space to take in another person.”
     “Then put her in the married section! There’s got to be someone who wouldn’t mind sharing living space with her.”
     “We can’t do that either, Sergeant. Those are nearly maxed as well, so unless you can find someone to marry her in the next seventy-two hours, she’s going with the next convoy to Delta Base. Got it?”
      His heart sank, but he nodded at the head of administration. “Thank you for your time.”
      “No problem, Sergeant. Thank you for trying to help her out.”
      Marks glanced at him. “Who said I was done?”
      Alexander shifted uncomfortably while waiting for someone to answer the door. Miss Delanie had been allowed to stay in her family’s living quarters until the convoy departed for Delta Base. Everything she couldn’t carry with her would be distributed amongst the other families or disposed of.
      The barrier before him edged open, and a woman, not Kelsey Delanie, peered out at him.
      “Oh, you’re the sergeant, from the hospital.” It was the same female that he’d seen come to Miss Delanie’s aid.
      “Yes, ma’am. Is Kelsey Delanie in?”
      “She’s here, but she’s not exactly in a condition to talk to anyone.”
      Marks nodded. “May I still see her?”
      The woman sighed, but opened the portal so he could step through. Rust flaked off the iron hinges onto the floor as she moved it.
       Inside was lit with a few emergency lamps, caused by the shortage of electricity brought about by recent bombings. He knew because his own cramped quarters were brightened by the same cumbersome devices.
      The female he sought sat on the couch with her knees brought up to her chest. Her eyes were red and there were fresh tear tracks on her face. A limp cloth was clutched in her hands.
      The sergeant approached slowly, taking a seat on the threadbare chair next to the equally worn couch.
      "Miss Delanie?”
      Her gaze flickered to him after a moment, but there was little interest to be found there.
      “Ma’am, I need to talk to you. Do you want to do this now, or maybe later?”
      “Now’s fine,” she croaked.
      “Ma’am, I’m sure you’re aware of the regulations, and that there is little extra space to be found in the base at the moment.”
      “There’s no space in the singles quarters, and none of the other families have the space nor the means to take me in,” Delanie murmured, no hint of animosity in her tone, but rather one of understanding.
      “That’s correct, ma’am. And as such, admin has said that you either leave tomorrow on the convoy headed for Delta, or…”
      She blinked at him, and he summoned up his courage to finish speaking. “There’s still a small amount space available in the married quarters. Is there anyone who you could—“
      The nurse cut him off with a slight shake of her head. “No. No one.”
      “Ma’am, you realize how dangerous of a route it is to Delta Base?”
      “I’ve helped treat enough casualties from incoming convoys to have a fair idea of the danger, Sergeant.”
      Marks shifted to rest his elbows on his knees, trying to make a decision on what he could, should, and would do. “Do you want to go, ma’am? To Delta Base?”
      Tears filled her eyes, and he looked up at the other nurse, who’d come to stand nearby, for some type of help.
      “No, I don’t want to,” Kelsey gasped out after a moment. “Everything is here. All my memories are of here. I don’t want to leave it all behind.”
       Sergeant Marks took in a breath, preparing to propose and not just a plan.

       Alexander set her bags down on the floor to their new living quarters, and stepped out of the way so she could edge past him into the small space. Kelsey’s eyes were wide and somber, but not hesitant, nor regretful, for which he was glad.
       It wasn’t every day one decided to marry a near stranger.
       The sergeant checked the clock on the wall and said, “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
       Her gaze went to the short piece of furniture, then ran up and down his frame. “You won’t fit.”
       A small smile quirked his mouth and Alexander shrugged. “I’ll be alright.”
       Kelsey still seemed dubious but she didn’t protest again. She wandered into the bedroom and sat down on the bed to take her shoes off.
       Marks watched her for a minute then went to flop down on the couch. It was worn threadbare, like everything else in the small rooms, but better than the concrete floor.

[time skip]

       He lay awake until Kelsey finished her shower and came back to the bed. While Alexander knew the water would’ve been cold – they only had enough warm water for two very short showers, or one longer one – but the chill on her skin was detectable as she crawled over his legs, covered by the comforter, and moved back up to her pillow.
        Marks frowned when she began shivering intermittently, causing the bed to shake as well.
        “Kelsey,” he murmured, and paused when she jerked and drew in a sharp breath.
        “I didn’t know you were awake,” the woman replied, not rolling to face him.
        “You shouldn’t have showered again,” Alexander told her, reaching out to smooth his thumb across her upper arm, and feeling her tremble with cold again.
        “I needed to clear my head. Burn victims always give me nightmares. The cold water helps me calm down.”
        A long hmm was his only response for a long moment, before he made up his mind and caught her around the waist with one arm. Kelsey went very still but Alexander didn’t let it deter him as he pulled her across the bed so she was tucked up against him.
       The icy chill over her skin made goose bumps break out over his flesh. Alexander stifled a yelp when Kelsey’s frigid toes met his feet. As it was, a small sound escaped.
       She turned over to face him, seeming content with the proximity now. “I used to do that with my sister. She hated anything cold and cold feet were no exception.”
       “I understand her sentiments quite well,” Marks deadpanned, pushing his pillow her direction a bit so it was more easily accessible for her to use.
       The nurse didn’t scoot so she could use it though; she appeared to be happy to tuck herself under his chin, proving his assumption of her adjustment to the nearness.
       Her day must’ve been more taxing than she'd let on, because soon after Kelsey had situated herself next to him, she fell asleep.
       Still, he didn’t sleep until after she’d quit shivering and was beating the comforter in terms of warmth. Then the sergeant drifted off, quite pleased with the way the whole business had ended.

       Sergeant Marks staggered into the hospital, near-unconscious comrade slung over his good shoulder, and his other arm almost useless due to a bullet that had gone clean through.
       Outside was dark except for the explosions caused by grenades and mortars, the only things one could hear being the sharp sounds of rifle fire or a scream of “incoming!”
       The rush of the hospital seemed peaceful next to the horror occurring just a few blocks away. Alexander saw more soldiers lining the walls, most of them marked with the WW sticker – walking wounded, much like himself – which the field medic had slapped on their helmets. Jackson, the man on his shoulder, groaned, and brought Marks back to reality.
       “Hang on,” the sergeant told him, lurching forward painfully.
       It took a bit of time to flag down a nurse, but she took one look at Jackson’s wound and said, “Get him to Ward 5, sergeant, and get your injury bandaged while you’re there.”
       It was on the tip of his tongue to ask after Kelsey, but he knew this wasn’t the time. He took off at an uneven pace for the section they’d been directed to, dodging orderlies and casualties as he went.
       Ward 5 was just as busy as everywhere else was, but a nurse ushered them in and Jackson was quickly rushed away to be treated.
       Alexander was shown to a bed, where another soldier – a private, from his rank markers on his shoulders – already sat. He took the other half of the limited space, sinking into the mattress wearily. There were no words spoken between the two soldiers, only silent acknowledgement followed by mutual sympathy.
      Marks drifted between awareness and blissful unconsciousness, until he felt a tap on his arm. The soldier jerked, reflexes reacting to the possible presence of an enemy, but relaxed when he took stock of his surroundings and remembered what was occurring.
      A nurse stood before him, face haggard with weariness but she still made an effort to soften her features with kindness.
      “Let me get you fixed up real quick, Sergeant,” she requested, eyes going to his wound.
      The man nodded, pulling off his helmet and struggling to unbutton his uniform’s jacket left-handed. The healer took over with ease after a few moments and worked it over the bullet-hole in his shoulder with the aura of one who’d done it many times before.
       She got to work and Marks let himself drift again. When he first heard his name called, he thought it was his imagination.
       But when he looked around the room to see if there was anyone trying to get his attention, he spotted Kelsey pushing through a group of nurses and patients to get to him.
       It made his chest ache to see the panic in her gaze.
       She broke free of the crowd and ran the last few steps towards him. The nurse attending him had turned to see what had caught his attention, and moved out of the way just in time for Kelsey to reach him.
       Alexander wrapped his good arm around her shaking shoulders, hoping that the pain from his jostled limb hadn’t escaped his sealed lips. He could feel the dampness of Kelsey’s tears on his skin and was glad she didn’t seem to mind the filth, grime, and blood that caked his person.
       Kelsey clung to him as if she was drowning, and it took a long minute for her to begin speaking. “T-too many casualties from the 53rd,” her voice caught. “No one had seen you in a long time.”
       It took Marks a minute to be sure his voice wouldn’t crack, from either pain or emotion. “I’m fine, Kelsey, but I need you to patch me up. Can you do that?”
      She leaned back, arms still around his chest, with moisture clinging to her eyelashes. After a hesitation, Kelsey released him to explore the edges of the wound that was sending a steady trickle of blood down the side of his torso. As her slim fingers investigated, Alexander could see that she was struggling to keep her composure.
     “You got this covered, Delanie?” the forgotten nurse spoke up from a few paces away.
     “Yeah, I’ve got it, Marin. Thanks.” Kelsey quirked an uneven smile at her, reaching for the antiseptic swabs that Marin had brought over earlier and got to work.
      Alexander gritted his teeth as she cleaned, struggling to keep his arm from clenching so as not to aggravate the wound and cause excess bleeding. Kelsey was a trooper, sucking up her fears and working with swift, sure movements that probably meant she’d detached herself from the fact that it was her husband she worked on.
      Marks watched her, thinking back on how many times he’d almost been killed in the past twenty-four hours, and how many times he’d wanted to have just five more minutes with her. If he died, she’d be alone again and it was that thought that had the soldier wait until she was finishing up before leaning down to kiss her forehead.
      Tears pooled in her eyes in a moment and her hands shook as she completed securing the bandaging around his shoulder. Then she leaned forward to lean her brow against his collarbone. Kelsey’s breath ghosted over his skin and made gooseflesh break out across his arms. Marks pressed his cheek against her hair and wished that the moment would never end.
      “I have to get back out there,” he murmured, and felt her grip on his forearm tighten.
      “I don’t want you to go,” Kelsey breathed, lifted her head to meet his eyes. “Please, Alexander.”
      “No, Kells. I won’t abandon them, and you need to get back to work as well. There are others who need your help.”
      She searched his face, looking so much younger than her twenty-three years in that moment, but she stepped away to give him the space he needed to stand.
      Marks got to his feet and pulled his shirt back on, working at the buttons once more. Kelsey reached around him to retrieve his helmet and clutched it in her hands until he was ready for it. Then she lifted it to settle it on his head.
      A sad smile touched her mouth as she fastened the strap under his chin. “It suits you.”
      Alexander ran a hand over his jaw, which was rough with several days’ worth of stubble, and quirked a smile back at her. “Thank you.”
      “You will come back, right?” Again, the vulnerable child showed itself on her features.
      “If it’s within my power, I will,” he replied, smoothing a hand over her hair before walking away.


   And that's all for Kelsey and Alexander. Well, I have got more in my head, as per the norm, but I haven't had any inclination to put any of it down yet, so. If there's a particular request for more of them, I may look into it, but otherwise.

   Feedback is appreciated if you've got some to give! Thanks for reading.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulty.

Writing: Jaq

   Alright, I know I said I would be posting a lot of writing stuff and I haven't really done so yet, but I've had a crazy week. First there was mailing all that stuff, a concert on Sunday (though I did post my thoughts on Newton), and a lot of the rest of the week we've been babysitting a three-week-old baby boy. He's precious, let me tell you.

   So, writing.

   I would almost call this a short-short story, just because it's so long and has something of a storyline to it. And as a warning, it is long. 13 pages on my Microsoft Word document.

   Writing Jaq always amused me to no end, just because of her trains of thought and how she acts around different people, and I hope that maybe she makes you smile as well.

   Perhaps feel a bit of pity for Alec as well, yes?


     “Jaq!” he shouted her name while rifling through the chests that lined the walls. “What did you do with mother’s gift?”
    His midnight-haired wife stomped into the room, indigo eyes glittering with irritation. “Stop yelling, will you? I can hear you just fine from the other room.”
    The man glared up at her. “I know you hid the comb I acquired for my mother. Where did you stash it?”
    She plopped down on the low-sitting couch, stubbornness written on her face as she sealed her lips.
    “Jaq, I realize that is it reflective and that it shimmers, but you can’t have that one. If you want one, I will find another, but it’s Mother’s birthday and she’s expecting something from me. So will you please go and find it?”
    Truly, he didn’t see why she needed the bracelet as well. Their large apartment of rooms already sparkled, shimmered, and shone with multitudes of expensive objects. Mirrors covered many of the walls, which had taken some adjusting to, and the walls which lacked more than two or three seeing-glasses were laced with delicate chains of silver and gold and where she couldn’t put the long links of metal she put bracelets of various sizes. The result was a quite distracting display of treasure. Jaq also tended to put rings, bracelets, and jewels in small piles on the floor – in the lacquered chests as well –, sequestered somewhere off to the side, but not out of sight. Best of all, she hoarded things that she took a particular fancy to. To Alec’s exasperation, that included his own jewelry and other various objects he might mistakenly carry into their rooms.
    Such as this gift to his mother, an expensive bracelet, made of woven silver and inlaid with sapphires.
    He went to lean over her, hoping that the display of dominance might force the information out of her.
    The woman merely frowned up at him before switching her gaze to stare out the window.
    “Jaq...” he said, warning in his tone. “Tell me where it is.”
    “No.”
    Alec huffed in frustration. “Please? I’ll find you another, but you have to let me have this one. Immediately.”
    Her eyes flickered to him and she muttered, “I want silk.”
    “...I’m sorry?”
    “Silk! I will fetch it for you, but I want a length of silk in return for it.”
    The male couldn’t believe he was bartering for the gift he had already purchased, but he sighed and nodded. “Alright. A bolt of silk, as soon as I can find it, in whatever available color you prefer.”
    Delight lit her face as she bounded off into their bed chamber and he heard the sound of jewels spilling everywhere.
    Jaq was back in a moment, silvery prize in her palms as she presented it to him with a large grin on her face.
    He took the bracelet without comment, stowing it in the small, tasseled bag that it had come in. Then he bent to kiss her forehead, amusement finally surfacing over the whole situation.
    “Thank you, Jaq.”
    Said woman smirked and as he left, he heard the familiar rattle of her digging through one of her treasure piles as he departed.
    Alec’s humor remained good as he made his way through the hallways of his parents’ vast palace.
    After all, how many other princes of their realm had the fortune of being married to the descendent of dragon shifters?

    Jaq’s footsteps were mere whispers of sound as she treaded through the dark rooms belonging to herself and her vow-partner. She silently marveled in the way the moonlight reflected off her treasures.
    Despite the fact that they had been bound to one another nigh six moon-phases, her nature still made Alec uncomfortable at times. She had tried to explain herself once, but speaking was not her specialty and how could she put these urges into words for him to understand? She had been this way from birth. This was part of who she was, it was part of her blood and the core of her being. There were no words to describe that.
    In the beginning, she had agreed to wed the keeper-of-her-vows for the sole reason that doing so would expand her country’s land and swell their riches, and by extension, hers.
    So she had born the superfluous speeches and extravagant ceremony both sets of sovereigns had insisted upon without complaint and had been bound to Alec-royalty-of-the-sands within a time stretch of two moon-phases.
    He had been wary of her at first, which had transformed into bewilderment at her multiple habits, and finally settled into the recent norm; amusement, annoyance, and quiet affection.
    And... she enjoyed it.
    She enjoyed this land, which kept her warm during the day, and cool at night, she enjoyed frustrating Alec by hiding the things he would need for whatever social function he had to attend. She loved his attention, be it anger or that smoldering warmth which made her skin crawl with anticipation, though what she expected she did not know. He strove to accommodate her odd needs, but knew when enough was enough and wasn’t afraid to tell her so.
    It was that that made her blood truly stir. It made her dragon-self roar with excitement, because, although she had been refused before, it was different coming from this one. There was something about the determined set of his jaw and the unyielding look in his dark eyes that made her want to fight his authority once more, if only to see it again.
    Jaq dragged the lengthy piece of silk off the couch and pulled it around her bare arms. Its smooth touched calmed her and her heartbeat slowed as she weaved the fabric through the air. It rippled appealingly and she danced around the room with quiet steps, letting it swirl about her.
    When her breath came in pants and her arms ached from holding the silk aloft, she made her way to the window, leaning against the marble ledge. She stared out across the surrounding buildings and the sands beyond it, amused by how much larger the desert was compared to even the large capital which they resided in.
    Alec-who-stirred-fire-in-her-heart inquired if she missed her family, and she was unable to give him a reply.
    She supposed she wished for their presence, in some way. She had never cried or ached because of their absence from her life, but she did feel the loss of the counseling of father-protector-of-her-person, the quips from mother-who-had-given-her-life, the constant attention from her younger siblings-who-never-knew-weariness, and the rough teasing of her brother-who-was-strong-and-brave-always.
    Once again, it was difficult to explain such feelings to Alec and thus she would say that yes, she did at some points desire their presence, and left it at that.
    Jaq looked down at her arm, taking in the way it appeared white in the white-night-sun’s rays.
     A light snore caught her attention, and she made her way to the archway that led to the expansive-but-short-sleeping-couch that she shared with the-one-bound-to-her.
     Alec’s arm lay across her side of their bed and his mouth hung open in an amusing manner. His gold-like-sun-and-brown-like-earth hair was shimmering in the white-blue light that came through the thin curtains. She quelled the instinct to touch it, choosing instead to sit on the windowsill and let the fabric shielding them from the outside wash over her.
     The sound of his breathing had much the same effect her length of silk caused. Peace and serenity stole through her and she relaxed against the stone at her back.
     Nights of restlessness oft came upon her, but she had learned over time to wait for this moment, this feeling that would lull her back to sleep. It was quite unlike any other emotion, singular and unique and she enjoyed its coming.
     When her eyes slid dangerously low, the woman got to her feet and shuffled around to her side-of-the-place-she-saw-as-a-haven, crawling onto it. The coverings were light on accord of it being hot-like-sun-itself during the light-hours and the dark-times being blissfully cool.
     Jaq boldly scooted close to the sharer-of-this-sleeping-couch, stuffing her pillow between his arm and her neck before pulling his other arm over her waist. The result was content curling up inside her, and her dragon-self humming with approval.
     Alec-who-rarely-woke-before-light didn’t awaken, but he must have recognized her presence in his sleep-state for his limb tightened around her then pulled her closer.
     The woman fell asleep with a slight smile touching her lips.


     Alec grinned at his brother, pleased that he had been able to return home earlier than they had expected. Aaron had yet to meet Jaq, and it would be an introduction he’d enjoy experiencing.
     They were on the way back from a friendly crossing of swords, and had plans to reconvene in an hour for the evening meal.
     “And make sure to bring my newest little sister. I am quite intrigued as to her personality.”
     Alec raised his brows, and pondering warning his elder brother as to her tendency to lift shiny things, but decided against it.
     It would be amusing, to say the least, to observe his reaction.
     “I’ll do that. I’ll warn you though, she’s doubtful to be in a good mood,” and even though Alec didn’t explain further, Aaron seemed to get the message.
     Clearing his throat uncomfortably, the elder mumbled something along the lines of “heavens help you” and moved off, waving over his shoulder.
     Alec watched him go before heading to the baths. He finished in short order and found himself standing before the door to their rooms.
     Jaq had been in a foul mood for the better part of a week now, and he’d learned there was little he could do to calm her besides stay out of the way and get her whatever she asked for as fast as possible.
     He pushed the portal open, and closed it behind him, glancing around the dark interior for his wife.
     “...Jaq? It’s almost time for dinner.”
     There was a growl from the direction of the bedroom, but she didn’t speak.
      Alec wandered that direction, leaning in the archway with his arms crossed. She was curled up on the bed, a pillow hugged tight to her chest. Her glare was directed at the window, but was likely meant for him.
      “I know you don’t want to go, but my brother wants to meet you,” the prince murmured, watching her for any signs of a better disposition. There was none in coming. 
      Jaq sat up and threw a bolster at him. Alec caught it and stepped aside as she stomped past him.
      “Do you want this?” he held up her favored train of silk, which had been draped over the back of the couch. 
      The woman turned around, and her gaze fastened on it.
      He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t speak; it seemed to be her way of showing the depths of her frustration with life in general.
      But the fabric was whisked from his grasp and Jaq settled it so it rested in the crooks of her arms, leaving the rest to trail along behind her.
      Alec smiled and held out his hand for hers, trying not to let his amusement at her behavior show. Whatever irritation that might’ve remained in her gaze was cooled by his offer.
      Jaq slid her fingers into his grasp and let him pull her through the halls, distracted by the fluttering of her silken train, and the waving of the curtains in windows they passed.
      A door-guard pushed open the oak barring their way, revealing the well lit interior beyond.
      The feasting hall was a large room, and one’s attention was immediately drawn to the long, low table which sat upon a wooden platform off the floor.
      Servants puttered about, bringing food, or leaving with trays, and Alec’s attention was drawn by his brother’s laugh from nearby at another of the entrances.
      “This is her? You make her sound much more—“
      Jaq leveled her indigo gaze on him, previous good humor vanishing as she stopped Aaron midsentence.
      He recovered by executing a flawless bow. “My lady. Please forgive me. My name is Aaron, brother of your husband.”
      She looked at him for a few moments longer, then away, towards the table with an uninterested manner.
       Alec cast his brother an apologetic look, whose features showed his surprise at her conduct.
 
     Jaq ran about the encampment with bare feet and her head uncovered. Alec had been sent to deal with a dispute on the border somewhere and when she’d learned how long it would take, she’d demanded to be brought along.
     It was day two in their journey, and her enthusiasm had yet to die. Her dragon-self reveled in the intense heat that the sun-very-high-over-head brought on, and by extension, she did as well.
     When Jaq had learned Aaron-brother-of-the-one-bound-to-her hated the heat, she had taken to paying closer attention. She enjoyed watching the-one-who-frustrated-her squirm with discomfort.
     They had been traveling at night and resting in the daytime, to cause less strain on people and carrying-beast. 
     Jaq darted around one of the attendants-whose-presence-she-found-unnecessary, and pushed into the tent she and Alec shared. It was nearing dusk, so everyone was working to prepare to go.
     Except the one-who-must-have-his-rest, apparently. Jaq plopped down next to Alec’s head, leaning over to study his features in detail once again. Light was dim in the shelter, but she could make out the lines-speaking-of-his-weariness, and the faint spots-from-the-sun that littered the tops of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.
     And then she sneezed.
     Right in his face.
     Alec jerked upright, nailing his head against hers, and both went reeling.
     “Jaq?” he groaned, peering at her in the dark.
     Said woman twiddled her fingers at him, recovering remarkably quickly from their little bonk. “We’re leaving soon,” she explained, then sneezed again.
      A frown of confusion crossed her features because she was rarely allergic to anything. Caught up in her ponderings, Jaq didn’t notice when Alec rolled his eyes in exasperation.
     She noted from the corner of her eye as he got to his feet and wandered towards her, but was taken entirely by surprise when he tilted her chin up and kissed her.
      It was a few moments before realization kicked in and she jerked away, scrambling backwards as she glared at him. Alec grinned innocently and her frown deepened.
      “You know I despise that,” Jaq snapped, on her feet and stalking to the exit.
      “Evening to you as well, darling,” he called after her.
      The dragon-descendent stomped away from the tent, muttering under her breath for the next long while, and never stopping to examine the feeling that had lanced through her at his sudden touch.
 
     She didn’t know where he was. Didn’t know where he had gone. The world had shrunk to her and the pain and all she knew was that she needed Alec. Not any of those spineless men who called themselves physicians and tried to shove foul smelling brews down her throat.
     Jaq needed the one who would calm her dragon-self, because this wasn’t supposed to be happening.
     It was too soon, she was too young, she hadn’t matured yet. Those thoughts contrasted Jaq’s own mental train, confused her, until she wasn’t sure what was herself and what was her dragon-self.
     She clung to a pillar, free arm pressed into her abdomen in a feeble attempt to abate the burning sensation that filled her.
     How long had it been since she’d seen him? Where had he gone?
     Jaq forced herself to take in her surroundings, to recognize where she was because she needed to see someone, to make someone understand what she needed right now.
      A sound reverberated in the air, but the buzzing in her ears drowned it out. She turned to look behind her, everything blacking out for a moment before coming back.
     “...Mother,” the young woman rasped, looking at the haggard face of the woman-who-had-given-birth-to-her.
      It took a few tries, but Jaq was able to decipher the meaning behind her mother’s lip-movements, and allowed the woman to lead her back the way she had just come.
      Exhaustion and bone-deep pain was setting in when she was lowered onto the bed in the rooms-where-Alec-should-have-been.
     She tried to speak again, to force her dry tongue and throat to voice the name of the one she desperately needed to find, but was unable to.
     Her mother swam into view again; pain was clear in her bright eyes, and Jaq read the word “sleep” off her lips.
     And even though she tried to fight it because she had to stay awake, had to find Alec, her dragon-self’s agony was dimmed somewhat by their mother’s presence.
     That was enough to send Jaq over the edge into the blackness that had been so rare in coming.
     Her mind was clearer when she woke, but the fire blazing through her body had returned in force, and Jaq had to fight screaming when its full intensity impacted. As it was, a long, low groan escaped her lips.
     “Jaq?”
     She cracked her eyes open, seeing her mother through the haze covering her gaze. “Mother...where’s...”
     “Quiet, Jaq. You need to eat and drink.”
     “Where is he?” the young woman persisted, voice breaking on every word.
     “Jaq—“
     “Tell me.”
      A cool hand covered her forehead, providing a momentary balm to her anguish.
     “We don’t know, Jaq. He’s missing, and we assume that he has been captured by a band of ruffians.”
      Jaq cried out, curling in on herself as the pain increased exponentially at the news. “Need him,” she gasped out, searching for her mother’s hand. “She needs him so badly.”
     Aliya held her daughter’s hand in her own, gripping them near as tight as Jaq did hers. “You have to tell me what’s wrong, Jaq. Alec’s parents said that their physicians could find nothing to pain you.”
     “She...wasn’t ready...” she ground out, burying her face in the bed as she tensed.
     The queen grabbed a nearby cloth, damp and cool, to press to the back of Jaq’s neck. “Breathe, Jaq. It’ll help.”
     “Nothing...helps...Mother. She needs...Ale—“ and a scream broke from the young woman’s throat as her back arched.
      Aliya waited it out, fighting to keep calm, because she was scared. Scared because she didn’t know what was happening that could cause her daughter, who was always to strong, to be in so much pain.
     It didn’t make sense and the only one who could explain it was in so much agony she could barely speak.
     “She wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared,” Jaq burst out, then heaved in a shuddering breath.
     “Wasn’t prepared for what, Jaq? You have to tell me. Please, Jaq. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
     “A child, Mother,” she whispered, twisting her head so she could see the other woman. Tears stood in her eyes, shining in the light like diamonds. “Dragon-self wasn’t ready for—“ a cry rent from her throat again. It was another minute before she could speak. “S-she was not ready to bear a – a child.”
     The queen stared for long moments. “You...are...”
     “With child, Mother, and it is like being ripped apart from the inside.”
      As if to prove her point, another spasm of pain overtook Jaq, keeping her from speaking while it overcame her. The burning wave left her gasping for breath.
      “And you are in pain because your dragon-self is not mature enough to bear a child.”
      Jaq nodded, fighting to keep her wits about her. “We need Alec, Mother. I can’t... can’t last, not like this. Every moment brings me closer to surrender.”
      “And having Alec here will help?” Aliya asked, pushing bangs wet with cold sweat from her daughter’s brow.
      “Yes,” Jaq groaned, muscles clenching. A pained whimper escaped her when she could relax once more. “She screams for his presence and his touch. She’s scared. She doesn’t know how to do this without him.”
      “What about you, Jaq? Not your dragon-self,” Aliya murmured, smoothing her hand over the young woman’s hair.
       A drop of moisture ran across the bridge of Jaq’s nose as she clung to her mother’s arm. “I miss him,” she cried. “I miss him. I’m scared. It hurts so badly and nothing is helping.”
       “Sshh, it’ll be alright. We’ll find him.”
       “Please, Mother. Please find him.”
*****
     Jaq dragged the cloak over her shoulders, grinding her teeth together as the movements agitated the burning within her.
     The moon was high in the sky as she made her way from the room, to the hallway, and then continued on towards where she assumed the stables were located.
     It was no doubt a foolish move, but there was nothing left she could do other than scream out her pain day and night. She had to find Alec, since no one else had been able to do so.
    The guards were easy to slip past, and even if they had noticed her, they wouldn’t have been suspect. At least, not overly much.
     Once inside the stables, Jaq dug through the saddles for the one she had used when coming to Alec’s kingdom.
     A few of the horses nickered as she stumbled along with her burden, the heavy tack not the only reason for her uneven gait.
     The woman had to stop several stalls from her destination, chest heaving as she fought to just breathe, breathe and get through it.
     Doubling over, she gripped the saddle’s edge as an outlet for the pain, trying to channel the urge to cry out into her hold.
     Multiple minutes passed before she could straighten again, and she doggedly began dragging the horse-seat once more.
     Her steed of choice was Alec’s second best horse, as his first best had disappeared along with himself. The stallion snorted, in irritation likely as not, as Jaq entered his stall.
     Humming a lullaby she had long forgotten the words to, she set about saddling the beast without alarming him, or any of the others.
     To have the stable-keeper come to check on the horses would not be conducive to her plan. Stealth and secrecy was a must because if anyone found out she was going to ride off into the desert, alone, with no weapons, nor sustenance, she would be chained to the bed and not allowed to leave.
     And that would drive Jaq over the brink that been hovering in her mind for days now.
     So she gritted her molars together and tightened the saddle’s girth on the stallion.

     Jaq lifted her face to the moon, a long, hot breath leaving her. The foggy cloud plumed above her, and she looked back at the city.
     Nothing stirred that she could see. It was time to depart.
     Pain struck once more before she could knee the stallion into motion. She bent at the waist, forehead pressed to the horse’s mane.
     When she was able to open her eyes again, the skin on her forearms and the backs of her hands had darkened to black.
     Jaq studied the curious change, running her fingertips over the dark skin, and feeling the ridges beginning to form.
     It almost felt like...scales.
     Her dragon-self assured her that it was nothing to be alarmed about. Jaq got the feeling this was only happening because of the changes occurring within her. They were rousing her line’s long dormant dragon blood.
     She turned her gaze towards the ocean of sand, noting minute changes in the way she perceived the dunes.
     There was no time to delay; even less now. The woman had no idea what a possible shift to her dragon-shape would do to her control, and she had no wish to find out so soon.
     With that firmly in mind, she urged the stallion prancing between her legs into a steady pace, in the direction Alec had last travelled.
     Another steamy cloud left her mouth as she rode, soon dissipating into the warm night air.

     Jaq sprawled on the ground, writhing in pain and desperation.
     Get up! she screamed at herself. We’re so close! He’s so close!
     A snarl tore from her throat as she dug her hands into the sand and pushed herself upwards.
     Her arms were all black now, the skin glinting with scales, and her nails lengthened to deadly points.
     How much farther the changes had spread, Jaq didn’t know. But the sides of her neck felt rough, and her pants kept catching on her legs.
     It had taken a long time to get here, but her dragon-self roared with decisiveness and urgency when faced with the village laid before them.
     Crossing her arms over her abdomen, Jaq fought to get to her feet and stumble down the dune, ignoring the shouts of surprise and warning that accompanied her arrival.
      She approached the ring of tents, paying no heed to the dark-headed people who surrounded her. If they got to close, or got in the way, Jaq snarled at them, lashing out if she had to.
      Once bitten, twice shy, they said. Once slashed, twice cautious, was more appropriate however.
      The women and children were hurried away and the men tried to keep her boxed in, but seemed unwilling to draw weapons on the young sovereign.
      Jaq could have cared less, making her way in a zigzagging but unfaltering path towards the only real structure in the camp.
      She was finally stopped by two guards with spears at the bottom stairs of the ancient temple.
      “You can’t go in there,” one said, caution on his tone, but determination in his eyes.
      Jaq opened her mouth to reply, but doubled over, words coming out as a strangled scream instead. Unnoticed by her, but observed by all around her, the blackness plaguing her body spread, disappearing into her hair line.
      The hand on her shoulder was marred by four long cuts in moments, and Jaq used the distraction to shove one sentry aside with her shoulder. She ducked under his spear and staggered up the steps, fighting to keep her head from swimming.
      The doors were easy to push open, old and rotten as they were.
      It was there the dragon’s-ancestor went to her knees, pain and exhaustion weighing down her shoulders until she had no strength to stand.

      Alec had been in the midst of one of the daily arguments with his captors when they had heard the commotion outside.
      None of the words were distinct, and he could tell that the men before him wished to know what it was all about, but they returned to the matter at hand.
      “Your people have blocked off our trade-routes, prince. Those trade-routes are the only things keeping our tribes alive and prospering.”
      “We have done no such thing,” Alec shot back at length. “Any closing of trade-routes done by my parents has been first investigated thoroughly. They make sure to confer with anyone involved with it, and verify that it is no longer of use before it is closed off. If you have experienced difficulties by this, then it is because you do not approach the rulers with word of your concerns, which they would gladly listen to! You must stand up for yourselves if you want to survive, Saleem. That is the way of the desert, and you know this.”
       Any reply the man might’ve made was interrupted by a shout of pain, the banging of doors, and then a dead silence.
       All inside the former worship-place turned to survey the intruder.
      She was scarcely recognizable, a shimmering blackness covering her usually light skin. But her eyes he would have recognized anywhere.
      The oddest mix between blue and green that only one person had.
      “Jaq,” Alec murmured, rising from the mat he sat upon.
      “Wait, your highness,” Saleem barked, also rising. “You, bring her here.”
      Two soldiers responded to his command, while Alec clenched his fists and told himself to not do anything rash.
       Saleem waved him backwards when Jaq was dropped before him, a command Alec disregarded when she groaned.
       He dropped to his knees by her side, pushing sand-filled hair from her face while turning her onto her back.
       “Jaq?”
       Her eyes focused on him, seeming to have trouble doing so. When she opened her mouth, presumably to speak, nothing came out.
       “Jaq? What’s wrong? What happening to you?”
       The woman shook her head, panic crossing her features. Alec ran his fingertips over the scales spreading up her throat in an attempt to calm her.
        Alec ignored the varying levels of talk about him until a hand landed on his shoulder and yanked backwards.
       “Saleem, you can’t do this!” the royal growled, yanking against the guards who’d pulled him back several paces and forced him to his knees. “I don’t know what’s happening, but she needs me right now.”
        Said man wasn’t paying attention, which incensed Alec further.
        He watched helplessly as his captor knelt beside Jaq, touching her arm with something akin to awe upon his face.
        “She is... dragon-kind?” Saleem turned to like at Alec.
        “Yes, but never like this. You have to let us go, right now. I have to get her back to the city.”
        The wonder upon the desert-man’s face promptly fled, and he rose up to go and stand before his prisoner. “Never. You are the only collateral we have to force your parents into doing what we wish.”
        “Then send Jaq back, please!” Alec pleaded, looking around Saleem to where she lay on the ground where she’d fallen.
        “If she is truly who you say she is, then she shall also remain here in order to force also her parents to do as we will them,” the man replied, realization, then pleasure, showing in his expression.
        “You no-good sand rat!” the young man exploded, slamming his elbow backwards into one guard, and then reaching back to trip the other.
        Both were unprepared and fell after his strikes, but Saleem seemed to have been expecting some resistance.
        The tribe leader had no qualms in burying his fist in the jaw of his prisoner, sending Alec reeling backwards.
        Across the shelter, Jaq croaked out “Alec” before she screamed.
       Everyone in the premises whirled at the blood-curdling noise, watching in horror as the blackness painting her skin spread further, blotting out any patches of white remaining.
       The pounding in his cheek faded into the background as Alec watched his wife writhe on the sandy floor.
        He stumbled forward, trying to speak through his dry throat.
        She was changing, Alec realized, watching her. Her every part of her was lengthening, thickening, darkening. Jaq’s cries became growls as opposed to groans, rumbling through the air like the thunder before a storm.
        It was minutes and yet years later that the prince saw just how much space she was soon going to occupy.
        Even now, she didn’t even appear to be human, rather, a grotesque cross between a person and...a dragon?
        Alec jerked when someone bumped into him, and he realized it was Saleem, who was white with terror.
        “What is she?” the man asked with a shaking voice.
        “She’s Jaq, descendant of the dragon shifters,” Alec answered, confidence pouring into his tone as he grinned. “And you really shouldn’t have crossed her.”
         As if to prove his point, the woman-turned-dragon roared, eliciting terrified cries from many of the room’s occupants.
         “Get out,” Saleem said, then repeated himself, louder this time. “Everyone get out!”
         His command came just in time, because as Saleem’s subordinates fled the structure, Jaq completed her shift.
         Alec remained where he’d been standing as she snapped and snarled at the scurrying guards, advisors, and servants to hurry them along.
        “How’re you going to get out, Jaq?” the male called up to her, surveying the roof, and the usual exit.
        The dragon fixed indigo eyes upon him and huffed, making Alec laugh.
        “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
        She inclined her long, black snout in response, dropping down to her stomach so they were more or less at eye level.
        Alec reached out to run his hand over the hard scales about her ears, murmuring as he did so, “Thanks for coming after me, Jaq.”
       The female released a small sigh, which smelt of burning wood and made the prince cough.
       “I’ll get out of here so you can bring down the roof,” he said at last, turning towards the doorway. “Just be careful, alright? I don’t want to have to carry you all the way back to the city.”
        Alec assumed the series of snorts and hiccups the dragon emitted were supposed to be her new version of laughter.
        When he stepped out into the fading light, he was confronted with the sight of Saleem and the omads, surrounding the ruined temple as if to storm the place, and yet fear was the only thing he saw upon their faces.
        “Take your dragon and leave, prince. We will no longer challenge your parents’ authority, but in return you must leave us unharmed.”
        Alec nodded. “You have nothing to fear from us, Saleem. If you have concerns, bring them to the city, and we will listen. No judgment shall be brought against you either me or my people.”
        And then any further conversation was cut off by a roar and the sound of falling stone.
       The young man turned, searching for the streak of black that would tell him she hadn’t been crushed by the overhead rock.
       Jaq burst from the collapsing building with a triumphant bugle, long wings propelling her high into the sky.
       From amidst the crowd, there was a child’s awed shout of, “Mother! It’s a dragon, like in the stories!”
       It took a moment for those words to sink in but then more children were calling greetings to Jaq, who craned her long neck in order to stare down at them.

       Several hours later, well after dark, Alec rode along beside Jaq, still a dragon, upon the horse she’d come on.
       The night sky was black above them, but the stars were bright and the moon shone with a fierceness unbefitting of its role.
       “You’ll have to tell me everything when we get home and you are able to return to your normal self,” Alec mused aloud, glancing at the lumbering reptile next to him.
       Her puffed breath caused a cloud of fog to rise in the cold night air.
       “Shall I assume that means I don’t know the half of it?”
       Jaq grumbled, making the steed prance nervously. Alec steadied it with a firm hand, amusement clear on his features.
        “You do realize the trouble you’re going to be in, correct? Coming out into the desert, alone, on what I am going to assume you thought of as instinct? Foolishness.”
        She slanted narrowed eyes at him, displeasure clear by the snarl curling her upper lip.
        “But I am glad you did. Saleem was one persistent man, although I do believe he has his people’s best interests at heart.”
        His wife’s rumbling growl told him all he needed to know about her thoughts on Saleem.
        “Don’t worry; if he does show up again, you won’t have to see him, alright?”
        She hummed in agreement, lengthening her stride, romping through the sand like a child, and leaving the oddest tracks in her path.
        Alec smiled to himself, pleased to see Jaq acting more or less like herself, and completely unsuspecting of the news that awaited him when they reached home. Or when she was able to return to her human form.
      Whichever would come first.
 
      But that, I believe, is another story.

      Owari

      For now

    And that is the tale of Jaq, the dragon-shifter, and Alec. I'm sorry it's so long, but I didn't feel like splitting it into two different sections.

    I hope you enjoyed it and I should have some more writing up either within a few minutes or a few days. We'll see.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulties.