Chapter Text
Zenos was dead. Ala Mhigo and Doma were liberated from the tyranny of the Empire. Once more, Astra had done the impossible. Once more, she had slain a mighty warrior. Once more, she had slain a god. But there was something that yet set her on edge. It was not the applause or the endless congratulations; she had long ago learned how to deal with being in the middle of a spotlight she had never quite sought. And though the memory of Zenos lingered in her head, pain and a smile that was too wide and too genuine at the same time, she had packed it up neatly and off to the side for now. There would be time to… process… that later.
It was something else, something that had been in the back of her mind ever since she left the Steppe. The look of utter betrayal on Sadu’s face shortly before she fell into her unnatural sleep. It struck to her core, and now she could deal with it. (Apologize? Stand firm? She didn’t know. She hoped she would find the answer she needed on the journey.)
She looked around the Reach until she found Alphinaud, a task made somewhat easier by his distinctive outfit and the fact that he stood a good fulm shorter than most of the the Resistance’s non-Lalafellin members.
“I have business I must attend to in the Steppe. I will return on the morrow.”
“Ah, Lyse informed me of your adventures there. Do you intend to take a more active role as their khagan?”
She shook her head. “A personal matter.”
“A personal matter?” He paused and raised his hand to his chin, and she could see him try to put the pieces together. She wasn’t sure if she’d get it, but she didn’t want to deal with it either way. Explaining matters of the heart to a sixteen-year-old boy was rather low on her to-do list at the moment. She saw him opening his mouth, but before he could get a word in, she silenced him: “With emphasis on personal, Alphinaud.” The tone of her voice made her wince as soon as she was done speaking; it was not like her. He was clearly trying to help.
“… Forgive me. After all you have done for Eorzea and Othard, it would be remiss not to give you some time to yourself. Clearly whatever this is is weighing on you.” He looked hurt more than anything, and her shoulders slumped. Hells. I just keep stepping in it, don’t I?
“I’m sorry. I will explain when I return.”
“Very well. Safe journeys, my friend.”
“And you as well.” She took a few steps away from him, closed her eyes, and tugged at the knot of aether that held her body together. The world around her faded, and she dissolved into light.
| (Back when she first learned how to teleport, she’d always tried to put herself together differently, in the body she wanted. It never worked, of course, but the thought never quite left her whenever she used an aetheryte.) |
She rebuilt herself from her soul at the Reunion aetheryte, piece by piece. The Dawn Throne was closer, but she’d rather not deal with the Oronir if she could help it. Though Hydaelyn had blessed her with far more anima than most, long-distance travel still wore her out, and an indignant Magnai was the last thing she wanted to deal with. The journey to Dotharl Khaa was mercifully uneventful, though she did spot a few Xaela below her who watched her pass; no doubt they recognized her by the distinct Eorzean design of her robes.
“Sadu? Are you there?”
The ground beneath her burst into flame.
Even through her instinctual aetherial shielding, she could still feel the heat dancing over her face, her horns, her skin. She slammed the tip of her staff into the ground, drew the fire out of it and into herself, leaving nothing but a blackened circle on the ground, the smoldering embers in the air, and a burning ache within her soul as Sadu’s aether fought with her own.
Before she could reorient herself, Sadu came barreling out of the yurt, catching her square in the chest and almost knocking her to the ground. It took all of her effort to keep herself vertical; even with her occasional training with Lyse she was still no match for the khatun.
“Did you think the Naadam some kind of game?” The sharpness in Sadu’s voice could cut a mountain in half.
Astra chanced looking away from Sadu’s gaze; if she kept eye contact long enough she think she might burst into flame once more. The commotion had attracted other Dotharl, clearly, they were confused by the situation. Which was understandable, of course. She herself couldn’t remember hearing of a khagan and a khatun fighting in her childhood. “Sadu Khatun, I’m sorry, I-”
“Oh, now you treat me as a khatun? Have you recognized the depths of your disrespect to me, little Xaela?”
“Little Xaela? I am your Khagan, and you will treat me with the respect I deserve!” She tried to mirror her tone the best she could, putting on her best Warrior of Light voice. But she almost didn’t believe it herself. The leader role fit her like a coat meant for a Roegadyn, and her voice was a dull blade.
“You come to your home, our home, disgrace me in the Naadam, put the Mol in charge, and then leave on your own business, and you expect me to treat you as khagan?” Sadu’s voice was getting louder by the moment; she wouldn’t be surprised if the traders in Reunion were wondering what all the noise was about.
“I claimed my victory in the Naadam, and even if I have dishonored our traditions, that does not give you the right to dishonor them further by disobeying your khagan! Now, if you do not wish for me to humiliate you in front of your clan, release me!” Embers swirled in the air around her, though the threat didn’t quite have as much teeth as she’d liked; she hadn’t prepared for a fight, and the teleportation still left her a little empty.
A moment passed, and then another. And then Astra felt the grip on her arm subside, the weight on her legs shift; she shook her arms out to make sure that her blood still flowed within. Her arm still hurt, but she’d suffered far worse. “Though I have not been to the Steppe in many summers, I am given to understand that the Dotharl are capable of resolving conflicts without death. Let us parlay.” She gestured towards the yurt.
Sadu wore a look of anger on her face, mixed with something else Astra couldn’t quite place. Amusement? “Very well, Astra Khagan.” She spit her title like an insult. She stepped aside and swept her hand towards her yurt, bidding Astra entrance…
… only to rush her once more as soon as the two of them were hidden from the Dotharl’s prying eyes. “I saw the way you reacted when I had your arms pinned, ‘khatun’. You never really were a leader at heart, were you? You were much more interested in following”. Sadu bore a smirk that was sharper than any blade, and it only stoked the flame within Astra. She tried to reply, but as soon as she opened her mouth one of Sadu’s hands dropped to her hips and squeezed her, turning her words into a half-strangled moan.
“I will teach you how to show me respect, little warrior. But. Only if you admit it’s what you want.” Sadu’s grip slackened, her hands holding her light enough that she could simply just brush them off.
“And if I leave, will I find a dozen Dotharl waiting to skewer me?”
“Of course not. Disrespectful and craven as you are, I would never force another into my bed, and you are still my khagan besides. But.” Sadu leaned in to her neck, close enough that she could feel the warmth of her breath across her skin and scales. “You want to stay here, don’t you?”
She swallowed. She could leave, yes, and not suffer this indignity, and never know Sadu’s touch, and never see her childhood crush in all her beauty, and–well. It wasn’t really much of a choice.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Another squeeze, this time with her nails.
“Yes, Khatun.”
“Good girl.” The probing hand found the hem of her undershirt and made its way beneath, tracing over her flesh. “How comfortable is my captive khagan with her body, then? Is there any place to stay away from?”
Astra shook her head. “Everywhere is fine.” For a moment the consideration shocked her, but then she realized: the twilit came to the Dotharl from all over, so of course it wasn’t inconceivable that Sadu would have bedded one, but–and then her thoughts derailed because while she was lost in thought Sadu’s hand had made its way up her shirt and she was holding one of her breasts and tugging on it ever so gently and the pleasure was just so much.
“You certainly didn’t have these when you left, little warrior. A pleasant surprise.” Sadu murmured into her neck, shifting her hand so that her thumb could brush over one of her nipples. And she must have noticed the jolt it sent up Astra’s spine, because she did it again, and again, and again, faster and faster, leaving her breast warm with sparks of pleasure.
“They’re–alchemy–”
Sadu’s other hand came up, a finger over Astra’s lips. “There will be time to talk of that later. For now, bare yourself to me, so I can see how you have changed.” Sadu stepped back with a wicked grin on her face, the kind that put Astra in the mind of prey staring down a hunter’s spear. And Nhaama strike her, it turned her on.
“Oka–Yes, Khatun.” The arched eyebrow, the raised hand, was all the warning she needed.
“A quick learner. Good girl.”
Astra slowly started to disrobe, first her outer layers, her boots, revealing more and more of her ash-gray skin. There was the occasional scar on the flesh or a divot in her scales, marks of battles lost and won, but she knew that such things would be of no concern to a Dotharl. And before she knew it, she stood before Sadu in her smallclothes: a piece of stiffened cloth to cover her breasts and underwear that was doing a very poor job of concealing her half-hard arousal. She looked up at Sadu, but the khagan’s facial expression hadn’t changed.
“When I said to bare yourself, I meant it.”
Nervousness and hesitation stilled her hand, but arousal pushed her on. And so she undid the clasps that held her bra in place and let it fall to the floor, joined soon after by her underwear, leaving it extremely obvious just what she thought of the way Sadu was treating her.
“Good girl. Stand still. Your khatun wants to inspect you.” Sadu stepped in, closer, closer, circling around her, occasionally brushing her tail up against Astra’s ankles or the back of her knees or her thighs as she went. “You’ve become a lovely woman since you left the Steppe, little warrior.”
“Thank you, Khatun.”
Sadu stopped briefly when she was out of view behind her. She couldn’t tell what she was doing aside from rummaging through her belongings, but before long her questions were answered: Sadu grabbed one of her horns (a bit rougher than was necessary, enough to draw out a moan) and pushed a small ball of wax onto the point at the end to blunt the tip, before repeating the process with her other horn. A familiar gesture, a precaution for when two au ra desired intimacy without troubling anatomy. But having another woman prepare her horns for her made her feel vulnerable, like she was a fresh kill being dressed and inspected.
And then, once those hands left her horns, they found their way back to her body, pinching her nipples and stroking up and down her cock. Sadu’s lower hand was covered in something warm, and slightly tingling, no doubt some kind of salve she kept for the occasion, but before Astra could think about what might be in it, a brush up against a particularly sensitive spot left her distracted, and she couldn’t help the whimpering little moan that escaped her lip.
“Nhaama, you’re enjoying this.” Sadu murmured against her horn, intensifying the squeezing, the stroking, the sensations that danced up and down Astra’s spine. Her legs were starting to wobble; she was used to fighting through pain and fatigue, but pleasure was a different thing entirely. And Sadu must have noticed, because she guided the two of them to her bedroll, letting Astra lie down atop it while Sadu continued to toy with her. She tried to find words, but the pleasure left her just opening and closing her mouth in a vain attempt to speak.
“There we go, little warrior. Doesn’t it feel better to be beneath your Khatun?” Before she could answer, Sadu leaned in for a kiss, prodding at her lips with her tongue, then insistently pushing in, biting and nibbling and sucking and wanting and claiming, and Astra was helpless to do anything but give in and let Sadu claim her. She’d started to thrust her hips into the air without realizing it at some point, desperate for more touch, more pleasure, more more more, and Sadu was giving her everything that she so deeply wanted. She felt like could just be here forever.
Eventually, the pleasure washing over her reached its crescend of incomprehensible indescribable irresistible bliss (“good girl, good warrior, come for your Khatun” came Sadu’s murmured encouragement, and “y-yes, Khatun” was her whimpering reply), and with one last little whimper, she came, leaving her bare stomach and Sadu’s hand a sticky mess. Every muscle in her body went limp, even the ones she didn’t realize she had tensed up, and she relaxed into the bed with a contented sigh. She watched as Sadu undressed herself down to her smallclothes, admired that dark blue scar-crossed skin.
“Khatun? Do you not want me to serve you?”
Sadu shook her head as she pulled her top up and over. “Not tonight. My plan was to teach you a lesson, and you have clearly learned it.” She turned back with a smile, motioning Astra to move aside so she could lie under the covers with her. “And now that that lesson is done, we are Sadu and Astra once more.”
They spent some time together there, in the quiet, until Astra’s hunger made itself known via a rather undignified rumbling in her stomach. Sadu offered that she dine with the Dotharl that night, and Astra accepted. It would be longer than she had planned to be away, but surely even one such as herself was allowed to indulge every once in a while.
She helped on a hunt (hunting while hungry helped refine the appetite, or so Sadu claimed), brought a bara to its knees with her thunder so the rest of the Dotharl could spear it and bring it back for dinner. Many of them wanted to meet her, both for her status as khatun and as a powerful warrior. And as she recounted her tales of adventure, of killing gods and men gone mad with power, she could pick out a few other twilit.
She saw herself in their faces, as she had listened to her elders tell fantastic tales of hunts when she grew up. She thought of the vials of blue in her satchel, of the alchemy that brought her relief she had never thought possible. And as the crowd applauded her tale of triumph in the Naadam, she resolved to herself: she would help them. Not just the ones among the Dotharl, or the Steppe, but across the entire world. Fate had blessed her with the gift to be recognized for who she was, to have a position where she could convince others to treat her as she wanted, and she intended to use it. Because, after all, the Warrior of Light was ever focused on those she could yet save.
By the time her storytelling had reached an end, the sun had long since descended past the horizon, and Astra could feel sleep urging at her. She was still exhausted from her final duel with the mad prince and her ‘reconciliation’ with her friend. But before she could leave, there was one last thing she had to do.
She opened her bags, rummaged through it, and found a jar covered in dull brown and red paint, covered in seals and scripts and bound with twine. She unwrapped the strings that bound it once, twice, three times, said a little prayer to Nhaama as she did so. She scooped up a handful of dirt, held her hand atop the jar, let a bit of it sift through her fingers and into it. “Reconciliation with a friend on the steppe of my birth.” she murmured, quiet even in the stilling evening. But as she fastened the lid on once more, a familiar voice broke through her ritual.
“You still follow those Gharl rituals?”
She turned to see Sadu, wearing a look that could almost be called inquisitive.“I have. I’ve been been taking bits and pieces of the places I go with me.” She smiled a little half-smile as memories of her past came back to her. “I’ve been places that defy imagination. Islands floating in the sky, flying ruins kept in the air by lost magic. The bottom of a sea, the tops of mountains. And everywhere I go, I keep a piece of it with me.”
Sadu crouched down beside her, looked at her jar, then back at her. “The Gharl open their jars after the end of each migration. Yours looked rather full. So when will you open it and scatter your soil?”
Astra simply shrugged. “When I’ve had enough of saving the realm over and over, I suppose. Or when Nhaama calls me back to her.”
“If our fight is any guide to go by, then that shall not be for a long, long time. And when she does, may your death be one of glorious battle.”
“And yours as well.” It was the only response she could think to give. She’d never quite gotten used to the Dotharl bloodthirst, as much time as she’d spent with them as she had.
There was quiet for a while longer. And then when Astra made to stand up, Sadu spoke. “Stay here for the night.”
“I couldn’t possibly, I doubt you even have any spare–”
“No. Here, with me, in my bed.” Sadu put her hand on her hip, squeezed her, nails lightly pressing into her outfit.
“Oh. Ah.” She blushed a fire-bright red. “Are you sure you don’t mind? The other Dotharl will notice if I don’t leave here tonight, and there will no doubt be rumors.”
“Mind? When that sun-gazer Magnai hears of me laying with the khatun, the entire Steppe will be able to hear his cries of anguish!” Astra could practically hear the grin on Sadu’s face, and she did have to admit the thought amused her as well. “And besides, who I share a bed with is nobody’s business but my own. If they talk, then let them talk. And I’m sure our negotiations from earlier have left you tired.”
She had to admit, there was a beautiful simplicity to the logic. But she couldn’t simply let it pass without a retort.
“Very well. Prepare the bed for your khatun.”
Sadu’s wide-eyed expression was everything she could hope for. They held each other in their gaze for a moment, and Astra was worried there would be another fistfight, or worse.
But Sadu just laughed and turned back to her yurt with a not-quite-sarcastic “Yes, Khagan.”
Astra stayed out a little longer, admiring the way the nighttime fire danced on the plains for one last moment. She’d always admired the way it could change its shape while still staying the same, even before she’d learned to bend aether to her will. Which, in retrospect, only made sense: she changed and changed as her journey took her across Hydaelyn, but she was ever the same woman.
When she entered Sadu’s yurt, she found her once more stripping down to her smallclothes. “It is a warm night, and alas, the blanket I often use for comfort is stifling in anything more than this.”
“Very subtle of you.” But Astra disrobed anyway; she enjoyed seeing her friend, and it was… nice to be desired by someone who had seen her entire body.
“Subterfuge is for cowards and the weak.” Even in the dark, lit only by the faintly-glowing crystals Sadu used for illumination, Astra knew Sadu was grinning.
“I wonder what that would make Thancred, then.” .
She felt a twist of aether from Sadu, the sparks of flame that danced in the crystals diminishing to nothing. “One of your grand adventurer companions, I assume?”
“Mm. I should tell you about them tomorrow.”
“Indeed. I want to know what kind of company little Qera now keeps. And if there are any attractive women among them.”
Astra just gently shoved at Sadu with her leg in return, and was repaid with laughter and a squeeze for her troubles.
“Sometimes I wonder whether you were meant to be a Dotharl all along, and your soul simply entered the wrong body on its way back from Nhaama’s realm.”
“I could never be as ferocious in battle as a Dotharl. I’m simply too soft-hearted.”
“Dzo dung. When we fought in the Naadam, I saw the warrior’s soul within you. I would not be surprised if one day that soul finds its way back to us.”
“If it does, then I hope it finds your soul as well. I would hate for death to get in the way of our friendship.”
“Or perhaps we will have strong, powerful children that will lead the Dotharl to their rightful rule over the Steppe!”
Astra froze for a moment. Was she serious? Did she really–could they even–
And then Sadu just laughed and gave Astra’s hip a gentle shove. “I know your destiny lies outside the Steppe, and I know you could not bear to be a mother alongside your other duties. Consider it an offer for another life.”
Astra couldn’t help a smile. “I’ll make sure to let Nhaama know my thoughts when my soul returns to her, then.”
“Please do.” Sadu yawned behind her and shifted about in their shared bedding; Astra did what she could to make space for her. “Goodnight, Astra. May Nhaama protect your dreams.”
“And yours as well.”
And so she made herself comfortable and closed her eyes. There would be much and more for her to work through tomorrow (what would she say to the twins? what would she say to Thancred? oh Nhaama, what would she say to Y’shtola?), but for now, she simply let sleep claim her.