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langwrites · 5 years

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LUMINA, ARNO, AND NAVIYD DISCUSS SEX, SEXUALITY, AND FAILED MARRIAGES

Side note: All of the adult characters here are sort of in their mid/late twenties. Naviyd is the oldest, then Arno, then Lumina.

Khalil is about five-ish and Lumina is pregnant with the twins Alastair and Oriana.

Lumina’s office, despite its overladen shelves of books and comfortable furniture strewn all around, lay in complete disarray. The three occupants had long since pushed all the chairs and the meeting table against the walls and spread rugs, blankets, and pillows here and there, resulting in a wide, flat meeting space inside of another. Though the rest of the decorations were still hers, the arrangement was more like a comfortable gathering inside a desert-living Mishik tent than a Kaltekan solar.

The reason for this was lying sprawled on the floor, feet close to the fire to stave off the Gabilan winter chill, and under at least three blankets. He was facedown in the gap between two pillows, arms pillowing his head as he buried his face against the rug. He was probably breathing.

It had been six months since Zahara and Naviyd’s marriage dissolved into bitter recrimination and hate. She and little Mitra were long gone. Shadows, really. Memories.

Naviyd coped in cycles. The ups and downs ran long, but not so long that there was no pattern. Naviyd could stave off the worst extremes by distracting himself with hobbies—architecture, astronomy, horseback archery, and more. Whenever he had the time, at any rate; raising his son, even with Arno and Lumina’s help, often left him asleep on top of whatever flat surface he found first.

Tonight was a… night.

At least Khalil was asleep on Arno. Lumina might have volunteered her lap on any other evening, but the twins she was carrying seemed determined to eliminate it from existence. Khalil gave up on that refuge weeks ago, once he realized he couldn’t fit no matter how he contorted. Besides, sitting on Arno meant the five-year-old could grab all the tiny honey-cakes whenever he wished.

He still had sticky fingers wrapped around one last, uneaten crust. When he snuffled in his sleep, Arno had to keep his hand from applying the sugar to his face.

“At least you took your shoes off before doing this,” Lumina said, because there didn’t seem much else to say into the silence of her best friend’s sulk. She nudged his side experimentally, but Naviyd didn’t budge.

“What do you take me for, a barbarian? I have standards,” Naviyd grumped.

“Do tell,” Lumina said, raising one skeptical eyebrow.

He grumbled into the pillows and didn’t answer. So much for an articulate evening, though Lumina frankly hadn’t expected much. She’d just have to be patient and outlast his moping.

It didn’t take very long. Arno had just finished putting together a pot of tea—without disturbing the sleeping Khalil—when Naviyd finally said, “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Lumina responded. She’d been occupied by shifting the pillows around her to more adequately support her back and wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.

“Or, I suppose—when did you know we would not be together?”

Hardly clearer. “You and I, or you and her?”

“Both. Either.”

“Naviyd, as generous as you are, I would prefer not to share in your headache.” Lumina sighed, because it was already too late. The slight throb at her temples was bound to get worse as soon as she sat up properly, and cursing Naviyd for giving it to her was akin to closing gates after all the sheep were long gone.

“A burden shared is a burden halved,” said Arno, in the light, mild manner of someone paying no mind to the meat of the discussion. His attention was wholly occupied by trying to drape a blanket over Khalil without waking him.

Lumina threw a pillow at him before she could think better of it.

Arno caught it with his forehead, which meant it bounced off toward the bookshelves. With no beading, it neither left a mark nor made a sound. He shot a look at it over his shoulder, then said firmly to Lumina, “You will not be getting that back until you learn to treat it with respect.”

Lumina pursed her lips and tried to look dignified, knowing she’d fail even before Naviyd started snickering into his arms. Still, the tension in the room was neatly broken. She turned her attention to her best friend instead of her distracted husband, saying, “Did you want an answer to your question or to laugh at me?”

“Can’t it be both?” Naviyd wondered as he pushed himself up on his elbows, and mockingly quailed under her glare. “I surrender! Genuinely!”

Lumina held her glare for a split second longer, then snorted. There was no point in pretending to be angry. Still… “You had a question.”

“I did.” Naviyd sobered. He ran a scarred hand over his face and then his head in one neat sweep, which sent his curls into disarray. A few dropped far enough to block his left eye from view. As he settled again, he said, “You and I—I think, from the moment we met, neither of us were interested in the more physical pleasures. Unless I am wrong.”

“I almost split your skull with a spear. I should hope not.” But still, Lumina humored him. “No, you have the right of it. There is and was nothing between us. Inarguably less, then—we hated each other.”

“Perhaps ‘hate’ is a strong word. I thought you harmless, then reckless and dangerous together.” Naviyd shrugged, smiling faintly. “And then, later, admirable for your strength. Beauty came in a very distant fourth.”

“Rearrange the details several times, and you have my thoughts,” Lumina said. She rearranged the blankets next, covering her slightly swollen ankles. She was tall, and her twins carried low, but her center of balance was off and her joints knew it. “Apart from our friendship, none of it was beyond the bounds of my feelings toward any other man I’d met before.”

“Likewise,” Naviyd muttered. He rolled over with some difficulty, entangled in blankets and unable to quite complete the motion. Finally, he managed to get his shoulders flat against the floor, then went on, “Before meeting her, I never seriously contemplated taking a woman to bed.”

“And no men?” Arno asked, while pouring tea for each of the adults. Khalil could go without.

“No men,” Naviyd confirmed. He put both hands behind his head and said, “No one, really. Even when I was as grateful as I’d ever been to the both of you, for giving my life back to me when I’d assuredly lost it—no.”

Lumina eyed him. “So, your flirtations—”

“Sleeping with someone in a transactional sense is not difficult, especially for men,” Naviyd countered, “and the act itself is enjoyable, but that hardly makes it necessary. Most luxuries are the same, so…” He trailed off, gold-green eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “It never seemed important.”

Lumina and Arno both nodded along as he spoke. Since Arno went back to trying to pry the forgotten honey-cake from Khalil’s fingers, Lumina said, “I never felt I was denying myself anything. Did you?”

“No. I knew, broadly, that there were celibate orders and solemn vows for this or that,” Naviyd said. He sighed. “But I thought only that the people who took them were far too serious. It was like being asked to give up cream buns or peaches. Irritating in the moment, but otherwise easily ignored.”

Arno snorted with suppressed laughter, and Naviyd grinned at the joke landing where it was intended.

“You see? I can mock the entire edifice.” Naviyd’s expression settled into a smile, though faint. “Really, the amount of time people spend eroticizing food is just ridiculous. I can hardly help mocking it all.”

“I always thought of love as more… Oh, working together, appreciating each other,” Lumina cast about for an extra word, and ended up with, “raising a family. Love and being loved. I never especially thought of the process of making love as all that interesting once I understood what people meant. We raised pigs.” Her nose wrinkled and both of her companions laughed. Arno at least avoided the belly-laugh for which he was famous, which would have sent Khalil tumbling to the floor. “Hardly the subject of romantic poetry, but very educational.”

“Horses, for me,” Naviyd admitted, once he recovered.

“Goats,” said Arno. “And helping the nannies deliver many, many kids.”

Lumina covered her mouth to hide her laugh, but it failed. “The lessons of the farm are truly wide-reaching.”

“Best schoolroom I ever had,” Naviyd agreed, showing all his teeth. “Milking, too. Gods, we really are too practical for nobility. I can’t imagine what those would-be kings and queens think of us upjumped muck-rakers.”

“You needn’t wonder if you read more of my letters,” Lumina said, gesturing at the almost-forgotten desk at the far wall. “As is your supposed job.”

“I have yet to see a single wooden penny for it,” Naviyd sniped back. eHe threw his arms out, like an overturned turtle. “I cannot work under these conditions!”

“You live in my castle.”

“Which I designed and built!”

Arno laughed again, drawing their attention. “You two are quite the pair. A pair of thundersnows, perhaps.”

“Bright, flashy, loud, and unstable? What a compliment,” Naviyd replied snippily, but he was smiling still. “All lightning seeks the ground, Arno.”

“And I am as much earth as the mountain.” Arno tapped the stone floor—what was visible of it—with his knuckles. His hands, unlike Naviyd’s, were neat and unmarked. “Personally, Naviyd? Had you asked at the right moment, you might’ve been able to steal a kiss—but not my heart, I think.”

“I would hardly know what to do with it, besides frantically try to fit it back in your chest by force,” Naviyd said. He peered up at them, smile fading a bit. “Hearts are such slippery things.”

Lumina rolled her eyes. “It helps if you clean the blood off first.”

“And do what? Eat it?”

“Bait bears,” Arno suggested. Khalil drooled onto the blankets and rubbed his face, smearing honey despite Arno’s best efforts. He looked down with false dismay. “At least there are no more of the white beasts.”

“Would one of those eat someone?” Naviyd asked. He sounded morbidly curious.

“I’ve been told so.” Arno rolled one shoulder until it popped. “Back to the topic at hand, though. Or something like it.” He rubbed at his beard thoughtfully, then said, “Your wife.”

“No longer mine,” Naviyd corrected, more dull than defensive. He sighed. “Now, I can hardly name a thing I miss about her. My love died after hers—a single stroke instead of a thousand bleeding cuts. So she says.” He got one hand out from under his head and clenched a fist. Beneath them, the castle rumbled faintly. “I’ll never forgive her for taking Mitra from Khalil. They were born together. How could she tear them apart?”

“I don’t understand,” Lumina said, frowning.

“Call it a superstition. Twins—or triplets, even—ought not be separated by anything but fate or their own choices,” Naviyd said, shaking his head. “Had the two grown together and drifted apart like all siblings, I would not—I could be upset, but not like this. They come into the world together by the gods’ will. What they do with the bond is not for the hands of mortals.”

“Did Zahara know that?” Arno asked.

“I had hoped so,” Naviyd growled. “But what do I know of the Mishik who live and breathe Kaltekan influence? Less than I know of spite, apparently.”

Arno nudged Naviyd’s elbow with his foot. “Well? Out with it. What made her so angry that she would drive the knife in like that? Why would she spite the gods?”

“…It was my fault,” Naviyd admitted. His voice was low with shame. “I was just too thoughtless to understand before it was too late.”

Lumina and Arno exchanged looks, as long-standing friends could. Husband and wife were secondary roles. Then, Lumina said, “I can believe that. You have a long history of behavior that could anger any wife.”

“You could stand to develop some convenient forgetfulness.”

“Never.”

Naviyd sighed. “Fine, then. If you want the sordid detail, I suppose you can stand to hear it. You’re old enough.”

“I am four years younger than you are, old man.”

“Neither of you are thirty,” said Arno, “so kindly shut up.”

“It was slow,” Naviyd said, as though the other two hadn’t spoken. “I didn’t notice at first. Everything was so busy—the twins were born, we were still putting Gabilan together, the Tear was vomiting monsters all the damn time. I never did thank you for keeping me alive then, did I?”

“You did,” said Lumina. “But generally while half-asleep or very distracted.”

“Oh, good.” Naviyd nodded to himself, then went on, “And I didn’t—we came here with nothing but the clothes on our backs and your sister’s goodwill. And gold, I suppose, but you can hardly eat it when winter rolls in.”

“True,” said Lumina.

“But the difference was that I had you two. She had no one, because Lucky wouldn’t hear of leaving the capital or her…second? Whichever lover she’s on now, subtracting one.” Naviyd’s fist tightened. “No Ismene, who disappeared before the war was over. No Fiamma or anyone else. There were no Mishik besides us, even, until Keyah arrived. And Keyah does not count herself.” Naviyd blew out a harsh sigh. “She hated you, Lulu.”

Lumina frowned. “Because I was the one who chose to leave Celeste?”

“Because I followed you,” Naviyd corrected, “and separated her from everyone who made any sense to her.”

“Then she should have left you,” said Arno, quite sensibly.

Naviyd’s laugh was bitter. “She should have.”

Arno frowned at the agreement. He patted Khalil’s curls, even as he said, “It sounds to me like Zahara would have been happier somewhere else. As much as I love your children, no woman ought to put love—even capped by great sex—before her happiness.”

“So, that was a poor start. I still thought you were both very much in love,” Lumina pointed out, folding her hands over her stomach. If she pressed, she could almost feel the two heartbeats under hers. If she didn’t, she’d still be kicked in the kidneys on occasion.

“We were,” Naviyd readily agreed. “Caught up in each other. In being in love, I suppose. Passionate lovers, numb to all else.”

It was all gone and dead now, but Lumina remembered that first year or so. The two of them had been wild during the early days of their marriage.

“But none of it changed how little she talked to anyone besides me. She needed more,” Naviyd said. “And I could never give that to her. Nor could you, Lulu.”

Lumina shook her head slowly. “I…never did like her.”

Truth be told, Lumina’s unsociable nature never made her many friends, and Zahara shouldn’t have been forced to fight her way through that barrier at all. There ought to have been other options. Gabilan’s steady trickle of veterans, mages, and old soldiers hadn’t arrived then. Luxana was always better at the bright smiles and smooth words, even if she didn’t feel them. Even if she couldn’t spare any for her twin sister.

“Oh, she knew. We argued about you. Not at first, but later.” Naviyd scrubbed at his face again. “But, again, I spent almost all day with you, or Arno, or whoever else needed something when no one could be in three places at once. We were a triad, were we not? Corners to a triangle, lending stability everywhere we went.”

Lumina frowned again. “Yes…?”

“And then she carried the twins, and things were different.” Naviyd’s eyes gleamed faintly in the firelight. “She and I were always together. Prying me from her side would take a pickaxe, and I would fight the entire way. We were starting a family of our own! How could anyone not be as excited as we were?”

“I trusted children more than you with tools during those days,” Lumina agreed. “I remember.”

Arno’s silly little smile was fond. “You learned to play the lute for her.”

“And she laughed at me! Often. I was never good. My best songs are shouted.” Naviyd’s face softened with the memory. “Scouring the land for whatever she craved. Not well, but I found those godsdamned olives all the same.”

“Too bad she hated the pickled kind,” Arno put in.

“You don’t, though, so I call it a success.” Naviyd shrugged. “And the twins were born, and everything was perfect.”

Lumina thought back to the comment about Zahara’s hatred and had a guess where the story would lead. Nowhere good.

“But… After the flurry of the first two years—infancy, toddling, and then Khalil learning to speak—work demanded more. And I could hardly say no to more responsibility. If I turned you down, you would have had to deal with all of Lucky’s demands after her ascension…” Naviyd pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the ones after. I think this would-be emperor might actually last. Radovan can hardly kill someone when exiled to the frozen nethers of the world.”

“Personally,” Lumina put in. “Or for a second time, come to that.”

“He might try.” Arno didn’t look happy about the idea.

“And so, four years.” Naviyd reached out with one hand and grasped Lumina’s. “And all the venom came out in one burst.”

“Naviyd?”

“A thousand slights. A thousand missed moments. How many times did I turn her away because I’d been run ragged by the demands of governing a province? How many times did I come to you instead, because we worked shoulder to shoulder in everything?” Naviyd squeezed her hand. “By the end, she thought the only reason I was here—the only reason I’d trap her here—was because of you, Lulu.”

“She thought I’d stolen your heart from her,” Lumina concluded grimly.

“And so she’d tear mine out.” Naviyd closed his eyes. “If I’d been a better husband, I could have seen it and soothed her. I could have done so many things differently. But here we are. When she realized she could threaten me all she liked, and I’d not budge, she broke us both. Seemed…right.”

Lumina said, after letting the statement sink in, “She threatened to slit you open from navel to nosering in front of twenty witnesses.”

“And that failed. How about that.” Naviyd huffed. “Besides, divorce is supposed to involve at least three witnesses, a threat of violence, and at least one god. She got it over with quickly.”

“Did she really?” What little she knew of Zahara’s movements since leaving Gabilan did not paint a lovely picture. She seemed to spend more time with her rising band of pirates than with any child. It was more in line with those last few, bitter days than the years before.

Naviyd couldn’t know if Mitra was even still alive.

“No. But publicly, yes.”

Lumina frowned. “And the twins?”

Naviyd grimaced and tried to pull away, but Lumina’s grip was too strong to escape. “She’d have been within her rights to take both. She’s their mother. But…”

“Come on, up,” Lumina insisted, hauling Naviyd upright with leverage and her uncanny strength, present even with her twins weighing her down.

Naviyd grumbled, but it stopped when Arno handed over both a teacup—somewhat neglected and now lukewarm—as well as the fur-covered bundle containing Naviyd’s sleeping son. All bitterness bled out of him faster than winter ice melted in the sun. He stroked his son’s face with the back of one hand, eyes downcast. “I should have fought.”

“Could you have?”

“I don’t know. Could have destroyed us, possibly.” He tucked Khalil against his chest, where the boy snuffled in his sleep. Lumina didn’t even want to think of the possibility of two masters of mind magic deciding to murder each other inside of a city. Legal recourse wouldn’t matter. Everyone would claw their own eyes out. “Khalil will chase Mitra as far as his legs will take him. It won’t happen soon if the gods are kind, but it will happen. I could never stop him.”

Lumina stored those words in a chest in her heart. Though she didn’t know when, Naviyd’s tone made it clear this prediction was as close to truth as he considered possible. For a Mishik, he generally put little stock in most of the religious practices—barring swearing by and at their gods—but this sounded as real as the power crawling beneath their skin.

“Sky-Mother above, I would keep him safe here forever if I could.” Naviyd nearly bent double so he could rest his cheek atop Khalil’s head. His son drooled on, undisturbed. “But…”

“He would climb the walls and drive us all to drink,” Arno suggested, but fondly. The first children born in this castle could only inspire fond feelings, even if they were the kind of avatars of chaos Khalil aspired to be.

“Neither of you can crawl into a bottle until I can join you,” Lumina told them. Lumina scooted across the floor with neither dignity nor ease, but managed to reach Naviyd and Khalil in decent time. “And it is well past this little one’s bedtime.”

“And not a drop of coffee,” Naviyd said. He caught Lumina’s eye, then added, “Not that I need it.” He sipped at his tea instead, which was herbal and not likely to keep him awake.

“So defensive,” said Arno. He got to his feet with only the slightest delay, as though his legs were numb. “I can put him to bed if you like.”

“No, no. I have him. He should stay with us tonight.” Naviyd set the teacup near the fire instead of within kicking distance. He coiled around Khalil and started shifting blankets, then settled on his side. Before he fully considered himself comfortable, he wedged himself up on his hand and said, “Lulu?”

Lumina nudged him with her foot as Arno picked up his entire pile of pillows and started transferring them to her side of the fire. “I can handle myself, Naviyd. Even when I cannot see my feet while standing.”

“I imagine you will never miss this part of the experience, even after the twins are as old as Khalil is and causing trouble. Speaking of, do they have names yet? I have ideas,” Naviyd remarked. His head dropped to the pillow beneath it almost on its own, and his voice came out a little muffled as he added, “Not that I want to impose.”

“No, Naviyd. Not until they’re ten days old,” Arno said. There was a hitch at the back of his voice, just barely audible as he curled into Lumina’s waiting arms. “I wouldn’t risk it.”

Black brows pulled together in a frown. “Why?”

“It is as bad luck as separating twins.” Arno hooked his arm around Lumina’s shoulders. Standing, he was shorter than she was, but lying down made no difference. “No names until we know their spirits are settled.”

Naviyd made a thoughtful noise, but it was clear he had no more interest in diving into cultural differences tonight.

“Sleep well,” was the wish around the solar, even with no beds to be found.

Khalil started snoring just as Lumina finally relaxed enough to sleep.

#terramir gang #lumina #naviyd #arno #khalil #my ocs

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