Title:    Secrets Told
Date:     February 23, 1999
Place:    Atrium - Palladium - Haven, Cella - Palladium - Haven
Cast:     Danae, Darius, Diana, Oriane, Riana, Thalia
Scene:    Thalia has returned to Haven at long last, to be reunited
with her husband and daughters. But the reunion is bittersweet. Guilt
hangs over the woman like a cloud, and even Oriane's confession about
her mage-gift cannot dispel it. At last, Thalia tells her husband of
the "proposition" that Khalid gave her.

     Running into the cover offered by the Atrium, Oriane gives a
sheepish smile before sweeping fingers through her short, dark hair.
Velvety black wings give a slight shake to slew off water before she
looks over to her mother and says embarrassedly, "Well, the garden is
pretty when it's not pouring out."
     "Well, it's still pretty," answers Thalia, her wings shivering
the raindrops away. "Just a little too damp for my tastes at the
moment." The woman chuckles, brushing her hands along the front of her
chimere. "It will be nice when the flowers are in full bloom, though.
I am glad that it's spring." Indeed, it has been a long winter and
much has happened. However, the changing seasons bring about the
promise of rebirth. The promise of new beginnings.
     What's a little rain? Well, apparently not something to be
standing out in, at least according to Mama and Ori. And so Riana
follows obediently along, beribboned hair trailing damply behind her.
     Pushing her fingers through her hair once more, Oriane turns and
gives her sister a smile before turning to Thalia, "The beach to the
west of the city is nice also, but far away from the Palladium."
     Thalia tilts her head a bit as she wanders over to Riana. "I
don't think I would mind the trek. I've never seen the ocean. It's a
sight I'd like to see." Hands move out in distraction, untying the
ribbons -- which are doing a fine job of it themselves -- from her
daughter's golden hair.
     Black wings open and close to help themselves dry while Oriane
lets her eyes stray from her mother and sister to look around the
Atrium and towards the Propylaea. One hand strays into a pocket hidden
in the folds of her clothes and she pulls out something she glances at
before looking back up at her mother's words, "When it is a warmer
day, I will show you, Mama."
     Riana reaches up to push a heavy fringe of bangs off of her
forehead, peeking a small smile out from underneath her hand. "Thank
you, Mama," she says in that breathless way of someone about to
sneeze, and indeed, seconds later... *ACHOO*
     Thalia's hand pauses amongst the fine, golden locks she's working
with. A warmer day. An emotion flickers across the woman's face,
disappearing before it can be identified. Regret? Pain? Sadness? It
might have been any of those or none. "Yes. I would enjoy that." She
blinks in brief startlement as Riana sneezes and then smiles warmly.
"Bless you." A pause, "Don't wipe your nose on your sleeve." Just in
case she needs reminding.
     Looking at the little object in her hand, Oriane misses the
telltale emotions flickering across her mother's face. Pocketing the
tiny thing once more, the darkling girl looks up and smiles quietly,
"Bless you, Ria."
     Reminding? Right. Lowering her half raised arm, Riana takes a
deep sniffling breath instead. She looks up from under that fringe of
hair again, and seeing both of the others preoccupied, surreptitiously
blots at her nose a bit with the loose edge of her gown sleeve.
     Thalia gathers Riana's hair, pulling it away from her face, and
begins to tuck it into a twist. "What is it that you have there,
Oriane?" she asks, curiosity mingled with the attention she devotes to
Ria's hair. Nimble fingers tie off a ribbon here and there, bringing
some order to the girl's hairstyle once more.
     Oriane blinks over at her mother and a faint flush comes over her
cheeks as if she were 'caught' at something. Reaching into her pocket
and pulling out the little item again, she shakes her head, "It's
nothing, Mama. Just a little thing."
     Riana catches the tail end of a ribbon between her fingertips and
gives it a critical inspection. "These are all runny with water
droplets. If I go get some fresh ones, will you fix my hair, Mama?"
Without waiting for a response, she ducks out from under Thalia's
attentive touch and back out into the rain of the garden.
     Thalia's eyebrows lift up, her curiosity fueled. "Just a little
thing?" The woman smiles a lopsided kind of a grin. What could it be,
this item that's 'just a little thing?' Her attention is diverted,
however, when Riana fusses over her ribbons and she nods to the girl
as she runs off. Once the golden-bundle of trouble has disappeared,
she wanders over to take a seat by the fountain, lifting up a hand to
chase back one of her own stray locks.
     Nibbling on the inside of her lip, Oriane finally lifts the
object to show it to her mother. A small, wooden carving, it's a tiny
figurine of a owl being sheltered by the wings of a hawk. No artist
carved it, but perhaps someone to whom the act of whittling is a
hobby.
     Thalia regards the carving with soft eyes, holding the item
carefully as she turns it over to catch all sides. One hand reaches
out to pat the spot next to her, silently beckoning Oriane to sit.
"It's lovely. Who made it?" she asks, handing the small piece of
artwork back.
     Still nibbling the inside of her lip, Oriane takes the piece back
and slips it into her pocket once more. Not replying at first, she
seems torn on how to answer. Finally, she simply and tentatively says,
"A friend..." Oriane does sit, though, curling one leg beneath her as
she takes a place on the bench beside her pale, golden mother.
     Thalia is not a stupid woman. The pause, the difficulty Oriane
has choosing her words, and all that lip nibbling -- these things do
not escape her notice. A very soft smile curls her mouth and she
reaches over to dance fingers through the girl's short, dark locks.
"He's a dear friend, isn't he?" she asks in quiet tones.
     Never has she been able to lie to her mother, even when she truly
wanted to conceal the truth. Wide, dark eyes glance up to her mother's
face for a moment before she drops her gaze again and answers with a
tiny nod. Though her hair is not the luxuriant mane like her sister's,
the way in which the darkling leans into the touch is highly
reminiscent of Riana.
     Thalia slides in a little bit closer, enough so that she may slip
her arm around the girl's shoulders. "You love him." This is not a
question, really. She can tell. Her soft smile becomes a faint frown
that is hidden from her daughter's eyes. This is what makes her angry.
A society that makes her child believe that she should feel guilty
because of who she is. Because of the color of her wings and hair.
Love should be a wonderful thing. Something that makes one soar... not
feel ashamed.
     Leaning her head against her mother's shoulder, Oriane murmurs,
"Mama, sometimes I think you are Clairvoyant." Other than that, she
does not acknowledge the truth of the statement. Her mother is
perceptive and she knows her darkling daughter well.
     Thalia chuckles quietly, the sound only disrupted for the brief
moment it takes for her to kiss the top of Oriane's head. "No, not
clairvoyant. It's a gift all mothers are born with: the ability to
know what is going on with your children at all moments in time. How
do you think I knew when you and Riana would sneak sweets from the
pantry?" Brushing away her teasing, though, she settles into a serious
tone which is gentle in it's delivery. "Does he treat you well?"
     Smiling at the memory of her and Riana attempting to be sneaky
little girls, Oriane turns slightly to lift her face towards her
mother's. There's a light in her dark eyes as she gushes softly, "Oh
Mama, he's wonderful. Gentle and strong and handsome and amazing in so
many ways."
     Thalia smiles and nods, brushing the backs of her fingers against
the girl's cheek. "Well, you deserve no less," she says before tilting
her head thoughtfully. "Will you introduce him to me? I would like to
meet him." The light she observes in her daughter's eyes brings both
joy and sadness to her heart, a swirl of reasons surrounding both
feelings.
     Darius ascends a few short steps from the garden and joins you in
the Atrium.
     Oriane's expression falters slightly as she's asked this. Brow
furrowing faintly, she confesses softly, "Mama, I... I can't. We're
not going to be allowed..." Movement catches her eye and halts her
words as she looks over, "Father." Black wings rustle faintly as
Oriane shifts how she leans into the embrace of her mother's arm over
her shoulders.
     Thalia is seated by the fountain with Oriane, arm wrapping her
daughter's shoulders. A faint frown accompanies a crease across her
brow and the woman shakes her head slightly. "But surely..." Her
response is interrupted, however, when the girl greets her father and
she turns to look over toward the garden entrance. A smile flits
across her expression and she shifts upon her seat. "Dominus."
     Darius certainly didn't mean to interrupt. Indeed, he says, "I
didn't mean to interrupt. I just thought I might get outside a little,
stretch my..." He trails off with the hint of a smile, and nods toward
both wife and daughter. "Oriane," he answers first, then takes a few
steps closer and adds, "Domina."
     Sitting up a little, Oriane offers her father a quiet smile that
erases some of the sadder expression that had been clouding her
features moments before, "Did you sleep well, Father? I know your trip
must have been tiring."
     Thalia's grey eyes shift between father and daughter, her faint
smile inward. As Oriane asks the question, her attention settles on
Darius and she nods. "Yes, have you managed to get some rest? You
looked rather fatigued when you arrived."
     "Well, I came as soon as I could get away. I had to, didn't I?
You wouldn't believe the things that were going on in Civitas Dei, the
things being said. I was half afraid," Darius admits, "that I'd come
too late to be of any use at all. I've slept, yes. Fitful dreams, you
know, but they'll be forgotten soon enough, when there's time for
better sleep."
     Tilting her head slightly, Oriane regards her father, and then
looks at her mother for a brief moment. With a typically serious and
thoughtful expression, she considers something and then makes a
decision, "Mother, Father... there's something I should speak with you
both about."
     Things going on and fitful dreams. Thalia opens her mouth to
question her husband on these things but her words are clipped short
by Oriane's announcement. A blink conveys her subtle surprise and she
nods her head slowly, folding her hands in her lap. "Oh? What is it?"
     Darius nods along with Thalia. "Now that you've got us both here
and curious, out with it."
     Now that both her parents are looking at her, Oriane realizes the
telling is not quite as easy as the decision to tell. Visibly biting
her lip, the girl slips her hands into her lap and glances first at
her father then at her mother, "There's something I never shared with
you that others might tell you of, but I want to be the one to tell
you."
     Thalia's brow presses down slightly, the woman not knowing if she
should begin worrying now or not. "All right." she replies quietly,
dipping her head into another nod. An uncertain, but reassuring, smile
pulls at her lips and she reaches out to pat her daughter's hand. "You
know, you can tell us anything."
     Darius nods once more with Thalia, an equally uncertain smile
gracing his lips. "We are your family, Oriane. We do hope that you'd
be the one to deliver us news."
     A flicker of shame crosses the darkling's features as she glances
at her father and then her lap, "I... should have told you both when I
first knew, but I was uncertain and wanted to keep it to myself."
Fingers of one hand twine into her mother's, but with a nervous
fidgeting. Finally, she admits, "I have magic."
     Thalia blinks. She was not expecting this one. Wings stir behind
her, the woman unconsciously stretching them out as she squeezes her
daughter's hand. "Are you certain?" she breathes. Faint color touches
her cheeks and she shakes her head -- of course she's certain. That's
not what she meant to say. "I mean..." She stumbles, searches. "How
long have you known?"
     Darius' forehead wrinkles. "Magic," he echoes. "What sort of
magic? Who else knows, Oriane?"
     Oriane still looks guilty as she reveals this to her parents.
Squeezing her mother's hand, but not meeting those blue eyes, the
nervous girl speaks, "I tried to keep it secret here in Haven, like I
always had at Callisar's, but with Delphi near, and so many gifted..."
Shaking her head slightly, she murmurs, "Only a few know, though it is
no longer a secret by any means. I... have known since I was
thirteen." There's a faint sigh that seems to be exhaled in the gentle
breeze that begins moving through the feathers of her mother and
father's wings. Looking up, Oriane murmurs, "Wind Magic, Father."
     "Thirteen? So, all these years..." --she's known? Thalia doesn't
seem to know quite what to make of this, blinking several times as if
the action will make things more clear. Obviously, her maternal
'I-Know-What-You-Kids-Are-Up-To' radar was broken on this one. She
shakes her head, as if to cast off a nagging thought, and gives
Oriane's hand another squeeze. "Why did you keep this secret? It's
nothing to be ashamed of."
     Darius looks up, as if an explanation for the sudden breeze will
come from above, rather than from his darkling daughter. When he does
look back at her, he's not quite the picture of encouragement that
Thalia is. "Wind magic. You? I've never heard of such a thing, Oriane.
Why wouldn't you tell us something like that?"
     Flinching slightly, Oriane gives a little shake of her head,
"I... was young. I thought to keep it to myself as something special
only I knew of." Not looking either parent in the eye, she continues
quietly, "Then as I read more about such things, I became uncertain of
how it would be accepted... Not by you, but... in general..." Falling
silent, she gives a little shrug that's echoed in the rustle of her
feathers.
     Thalia slides a brief, dark glance at Darius when he issues his
reply, the woman not entirely pleased with his reaction. However, her
attention is returned to Oriane promptly and she reaches out to place
a finger beneath the girl's chin, guiding it upward. What to say? It
was very dangerous of her to keep this to herself, to guard this
secret as she did. But she must realize that and to go over that point
again would be foolish. Grey eyes search her daughter's face as she
organizes her thoughts into something that resembles sense. "But
people know now?" That's what she said, right? "You are receiving
guidance on how to manage your talent?"
     Darius doesn't look apologetic. As a matter of fact, he arches an
eyebrow at Thalia's look. He purses his lips, then asks, "Tell us,
please, that Delphi hasn't got wind of this."
     Meeting her mother's eyes as her chin is tilted upwards, Oriane
gives a little nod to her mother's questions, but then flinches again
from her father's words, "Delphi knows, but will not require me to
become a student of theirs if I keep myself under control and make
sure I am trained."
     Thalia nods slightly, letting her hand fall away from Oriane's
chin. Her manner turns inward, the woman musing over the news she's
just been delivered. With a blink, she looks up again. First at her
daughter and then she sweeps her attention to her husband. Delicate
eyebrows lift up in silent question as she reads over the man's
expression.
     Danae ascends a few short steps from the garden and joins you in
the Atrium.
     Seated on a bench beside Thalia, Oriane has an expression on her
face that's a cross between guilt and worry. Her mother, Thalia has
her face turned towards Darius with a questioning expression as
Oriane's father stands near the seated pair.
     There was no pun intended there, honestly, and Darius seems not
to notice that he's punned at all. He's busy being serious. He nods,
once, and breathes a short sigh of relief. "Good, good. The last thing
we need is Delphi coming in where it's not welcome." Gaze caught by
that look of Thalia's, his expression softens a degree, and he allows,
"I'm glad you told us now."
     Danae walks into the Atrium, clothing a little damp, dappled with
pale circles against her tunic, from the rain in the garden. Her gait
is gracious, mild expression. Her eyes glance to Oriane, and her smile
comes just a little on one side. Reserved. Curiosity shows through the
windows of her eyes as she glances at the other two.
     Like a child much younger, Oriane's gaze drops and she murmurs
quietly, "I'm sorry, Father... I should have told you both sooner."
Fingers twisting in the edges of her chimere, she misses Danae's
entrance while she nibbles on her bottom lip in a nervous habit.
     Danae hears enough to turn, her tunic arcing out around the small
of her back, hair swishing against her shoulders, tangling in the down
of her wings. She eases out, not even looking back.
     Danae disappears between two columns and into the Palladium's
garden.
     Thalia's expression smoothes, satisfied that Darius has softened
a bit, and she gives him the whisper of a smile. Attention returns to
Oriane and, observing the girl's guilty state, slips her arm about her
shoulders once more. "We know now and that is what's important." Is
she being overly generous with the girl? Somewhat. Although it's never
been her style to be very hard-lined with the girls but, ever since
she's returned from being held by the Varati, she has indulged her
family almost to a fault.
     Which is almost more than Darius can bear. The difference between
the two parents has always been clear, when it comes to the girls,
hasn't it? Darius looks away from mother and daughter, as if he might
have missed something in entering before. "Where is Riana?"
     Looking up, Oriane shifts her velvety black wings as she glances
towards the archway looking out over the garden, "She went back to our
room to get some dry ribbons... Something else probably caught her
attention there." Hesitant now that some of her confidence has
wavered, the darkling daughter murmurs, "I can go check on her,
father."
     Thalia tilts a glance up at Darius, an eyebrow inching up. She
nods at Oriane's answer concerning the whereabouts of her sister.
However, her attention to that is distracted at best. The woman
regards her husband with an odd expression, her fingers absently
brushing at the silks of her chimere. Thoughtful.
     Darius looks back down at Oriane, and summons up another of those
smiles. You know, the patient ones. "I'd appreciate it, Oriane. I'm
sure she's fine, but just in case?"
     Rising and giving a nod, Oriane glances quickly at both parents
before slipping out into the rain and back towards the Tritonis
quarters.
     Diana mounts the set of steps that lead into the Palladium from
the courtyard beyond.
     Oriane disappears between two columns and into the Palladium's
garden.
     Thalia watches Oriane move off but her eyes return to Darius soon
enough. She doesn't say anything; the woman simply continues to pick
at the material of her chimere. Pulling in a deep breath, she gets her
words in order but is distracted by the flash of movement in the edges
of her vision. Turning, she glances to the entering figure.
     Stepping into the Atrium from the Propylaea, the dark Praetorian
woman brushes a dampened lock of hair from her eyes. Her head is
lowered, deeply in thought; while her left hand rests upon the hilt of
her gladius. Not quite yet attentive of the others present, she
mumbles to herself.
     Darius glances over toward Diana's entrance from where he stands
by Thalia's bench. Oriane barely gone, and he doesn't look after her
once. Instead, he flashes the same sort of smile -- patient, polite --
at Diana, then invites himself to the place Oriane left, settling onto
the bench with a shift of wing and the quiet pop of clearing his
throat.
     Thalia's grey-eyed regard remains on the dark newcomer for a
moment or two. She gives her a polite nod of greeting, despite the
other woman's distracted attention, and then returns her focus to her
husband. A smile -- faint, gentle and just barely curving her lips --
sets a somewhat hesitant expression upon her face. Pausing for a
heartbeat, she reaches out and places a hand over one of Darius'.
     Movement, now that's something that catches the dark woman's eye
as she lifts her gaze to study the couple in silent wondering. Her
steps slow to a near crawl, looking from man to woman and then back to
man again before offering a solemn and respectful nod, "Dominus,
Domina... Pardon the intrusion. I did not realize there was anyone
here."
     If a touch could bring pleasant pain, so it seems Thalia's can.
Darius' eyes close, briefly, that expression lingering only a moment
before his eyes open again. The polite smile fits once more into place
as he answers, "We hardly announced our presence, domina," as he
catches Thalia's fingers and folds his own hand around them.
     You sense Darius' grip on your hand is firm, just this side,
perhaps, of comfortable. It doesn't tighten any more, nor does it ease
at all.
     A breath is drawn and held, a flicker of emotion sweeping across
Thalia's face as Darius catches her hand. Diana is forgotten for a
moment -- indeed, most everything else is brushed into the background
as well. She gives the man's hand a squeeze, touching her gaze over
the different points of his face before bringing her attention back to
Diana. "Please, do not apologize. We hold no special right over this
place," she returns with an odd smile.
     Brows arching in apparent surprise at the relatively civil
treatment by the couple, Diana's lips threaten to pull into a rather
puzzled frown. She lifts her right hand to her temple, almost as if to
actually try and understand it all. Shaking her head slowly she
replies almost hesitantly. "I... you do not?" Her expression is nearly
flabbergasted. Definitely in need of some support to brace her fairly
shocked form, she moves to seat herself upon a vacated bench,
relatively close to the couple.
     Diana who? Darius was, it seems, about to say something else,
when Diana's question reminds him of manners once more. He ducks his
head slightly, breaking into a genuine grin. "No," he answers Diana,
"we have no claim to columns or benches, or the air we breathe." He
considers Thalia a long moment, then shifts his gaze away to look at
Diana briefly. "If you will excuse us, domina?" He climbs to his feet,
but he does not let go of Thalia's hand.
     Thalia rises up to stand as well, the motion ensured by the fact
that Darius still holds her hand. Attention drifts between him and the
dark-winged stranger, the faint tilt to her head indicating the fact
that thoughts are being mulled over. A generous smile, faintly
apologetic in its curve, pulls across her expression as she nods to
the other woman. "Yes, please. Excuse us."
     Nodding her head slowly, "By all means..." Diana replies in an
almost solitary tone of respect. She still does not quite appear over
the initial shock over the treatment of her, perhaps still trying to
accurately understand in all in her mind. Glancing back down to the
gladius at her side, she sighs deeply.
     While most would, no doubt, head for the gardens with a woman at
their side, Darius instead angles toward the Cella, though he keeps
close to Thalia. He says nothing else as he leads her inside with him,
just walks with a quiet sort of surety into that haven.
     Darius passes through an archway to the rear of the atrium and
enters the cella.

[Cella - Palladium - Haven]

     There is a faint edge of nervousness to her, touching her wings
and causing them to twitch now and then. It's uncharacteristic for her
to act this way, Thalia normally being a woman swaddled in calm
patience. Her hand still in Darius', she alternates her attention
between his face and watching where she is going.
     When the sanctuary and silence of this house of the stone gods is
reached, only then does Darius forget all the niceties of society and
give in to true emotion. He turns to face her, concern darkening both
expression and eyes. "Do you have any idea what I thought? Are you...
did he... are you all right?"
     Thalia pushes out a short breath, shaking her head. "Don't worry.
I'm fine," she replies, her soft voice carrying so much more loudly in
this solemn place. She tucks back a few curls that had been loosened
from their pins, fingers brushing along the curve of her ear as she
meets her husband's eyes. "I was treated more like a guest than a
prisoner."
     Darius searches her face, disbelief replacing concern. "A guest."
He laughs once, a short, sharp sound. "You /were/ a prisoner, Thalia.
He took you from Callisar's, from your people, from your family." From
me. He doesn't say that.
     Thalia frowns faintly. "I know I was a prisoner. That I was kept
from my family made me ever aware of that fact," she returns. Her
wings flex outward with a faint snap and then tuck in close to her
form as she loosens her hand from her husband's. "You wanted to know
if I was all right. I was simply telling you how I was treated." Her
voice gets softer toward the end and a wave of guilt washes over her,
the woman half-turning from Darius.
     "Thalia." His breath catches, and he whispers after her name,
"Don't. Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean ... I thought you were gone.
To hear you speak even a little bit of kindness toward /him/, it...
I'm sorry. Please."
     Speak a little bit of kindness? Oh, but there are so much more
grave things being unspoken. Thalia bites on her lip and shakes her
head, her expression half-hidden by the turn of her body. "Darius..."
she starts, but has no idea where to go from there.
     Darius rests a hand on her shoulder, hope creeping into both
expression and voice now. "I'm listening. For once, Thalia."
     She'll have to tell him sooner or later. It needs to be
discussed. With soft, grey eyes filled with a quiet sadness, Thalia
turns to look silently upon her husband. It wasn't always so strained
between them. Memory brings her back to times graced with affection
and love. "Darius..." she says again, her voice just a bare whisper.
"You'll want to sit down."
     Confusion dominates now. "Sit? Why?" His hand leaves her
shoulder. There must be benches here, for those who cannot kneel. He
considers her a moment, then sits as she suggests, though the
confusion doesn't fade. "There," he says. "Now can you say it?"
     Thalia paces a little bit, trying to gather her thoughts. "I..."
No, can't begin that way. She pauses, glances at her husband and
resume her steps back and forth in front of him. "He..." Nu-uh. Not
that way either. She finally comes to a stop, standing before Darius
with a vexed expression. "You have heard about the treaty?"
     "That travesty they /call/ a treaty, you mean? I've heard it,
yes." Concern wars again with confusion. "Why?"
     Thalia doesn't jump right into the 'why' just yet. She folds and
refolds her hands, knitting finger in with finger, as she tries to
find her calm. "Are you familiar with the details of it?" she asks
slowly, waiting almost breathlessly for her husband to put the puzzles
pieces together and hoping that she will get to her point before he
does.
     But patience lasts only so long. "Which details, Thalia? The
giving away of a province, the paying of blood money? Which detail has
you so troubled?"
     Thalia forces her hands to be still. "The one which details that
Khalid Atar will marry an Empyrean." She lets silence hang for only a
moment before pressing onward. "He has asked that I... divorce you and
fill that role."
     Darius goes utterly still. Even his expression freezes in place
for one long moment that threatens to stretch into eternity. He
neither breathes nor blinks. Not for too long. When he does move
again, it is all at once. He climbs to his feet, turns away from you
toward the faces of the stone gods, and laughs aloud. "Zeus Kronian,
is that what the Varati worship? A mad half-breed? Divorce me, for
him?" More laughter, though it sounds hollow. "What a fool."
     Thalia isn't laughing, though. No, she is very serious. "Darius,"
she calls after him. Soft yet wrapped in distance. "I have not yet
agreed but..." But? Yet?! The woman must be insane. Perhaps she is
feverish; has taken ill. She can't actually be considering this fool
idea?
     Darius' gaze falls next on Tritonia's figure, and her sight
causes wan laughter to end at last. He doesn't turn back toward
Thalia, eyes trained on the stone feathers of the owl perched on the
goddess' shoulder. "You haven't yet agreed? Yet?" There's another long
silence. He turns his head a little over his shoulder, but not enough
to see her. "Yet? Why not? You've considered it, if you can say
'yet'..."
     Thalia sits down finally, her wings stretching over the back of
the bench. She rubs at her temples and then turns suddenly tired eyes
toward Darius. "I have considered it," she replies quietly before
letting her hands drop into her lap. "I do agree with him in that
having cultural representation on either side will further the peace
between our two nations."
     Another surge of wan humor that lasts nowhere near as long as the
last. He turns his head back toward Tritonia herself. "You agree with
him," he echoes, while the amusement lasts, and then he falls silent.
Good that his back is to her, that she cannot watch the chase of
emotion that crosses his face.
     Thalia frowns faintly and stirs to her feet. "You do not?" she
poses, passion entering into her normally soft voice. She shakes her
head and starts toward him, her hands balling up at her side. "You
call him mad. You call the treaty a travesty. Why? It was pride that
brought us down, more than anything else."
     Darius' eyebrows lift, and he turns around to face her. "Do you
think that treaty is a kindness to us, Thalia? Paying them for the war
they fought. For the lives they took? Selling our homes for the lives
of our own? What price did they pay? What loss do they suffer? Yes, I
think the treaty is a travesty. I think their god-king is mad, but
then, I have obviously lost sight of what is mad and what isn't."
     Thalia's visage grows darker still, her expression an odd mix of
anger and anguish. "Can't you just try to see beyond the red before
your eyes, just for a moment?" she asks. The woman tangles her fingers
through her hair, destroying the twist which held her locks back.
"First of all, why was this war fought? What brought it about? Pride.
Pride which was present on /both/ sides." She takes a step closer,
closing the distance. Making the conversation more intimate. "But this
really isn't about the war. This is about a deep rift between our two
cultures. And if steps aren't made to try and fix the situation, then
both societies will be torn apart." Her voice has become soft. Quiet.
     Closing the distance changes the tone of the conversation, too.
It's not about a rift between cultures, now. It's about a rift between
man and wife. Darius studies her face, remembering it and memorizing
it all at once. He lifts a hand, turns the back of it toward her
cheek, and nearly but not quite, brushes knuckles against her skin.
"It doesn't need /you/ to solve it, Thalia. He doesn't need you. He'll
choose someone else. He'll /marry/ someone else."
     Thalia lifts up her hand, taking hold of his when it comes so
close to her face. Grey eyes drift shut as she brings his fingers to
her mouth, pressing a kiss against them. "I know. I know that he'll
marry someone else," she murmurs quietly, the words a soft brush
against his skin. "But it's about doing what is right. What if he
chooses someone who can't do it? Who can't handle that role? What
importance is my happiness when I might be able to ensure peace for
our people for years and years to come?" A tear slips out from beneath
her shut lids, the woman holding Darius' hand against her cheek as she
speaks in these hushed whispers.
     Darius frowns as if he doesn't understand. Maybe he doesn't. The
other hand lifts to dash away that tear, and falls again. "Is that
what matters, then? Saving our people for years and years to come?"
     Thalia opens her eyes, her gaze more blue than grey due to the
silver of her tears. "War is horrible, Darius," she murmurs. "When
Callisar's fell, I saw men die. I saw their eyes go glassy as they lay
within a pool of their own blood. Empyrean. Varati. In the end, they
died no differently. How many mothers have lost a son? How many wives
will never get their husbands back?" She draws a soft breath and
reaches out to touch her husband's face with her free hand. "How can I
live out my days knowing I might have done something to prevent that
kind of bloodshed in the future... but didn't? What kind of example
would I set for the girls?"
     Bewildered, that's what Darius is. He shakes his head, drawing
back from her touch. His feathers rustle in agitation, and he takes a
step backward. "You'd be a mother to them, Thalia. That's more
important than any... lesson, any good deed." Now he frowns. "You are
my /wife/. You are /my/ wife. Let him choose one of those who /lost/
their husbands, /yours/ still /lives/."
     Thalia's hand hangs in empty air, her face locked by a deeply
sorrowful expression. There are no easy answers and she regards her
husband silently before moving back to the bench. "But I could secure
a safe and peaceful future for them. For their children. And
generations beyond that," she replies. Weary.
     Darius watches her a long moment, then he starts for the doorway
out, shaking his head. "I don't understand you," he murmurs, as he
goes, stone echoing it back even more loudly. "I don't ... understand
you, Thalia." He pulls it together before he steps out, pausing in the
doorway to say, "I need to fly. If you ... I'll see you again."

FIN