Chapter Text
"You will reconnoiter the encampment of the Dotharl."
The rest of the conversation passed her in a blur. Something about the Buduga and men and slaves and morning mist. She was to return to a people she hadn't thought about in almost half a lifetime? Though at least he had not thought to set her on the Gharl; had he done so, she might have just attacked him then and there rather than face those particular ghosts of her past. There was a tremor in her hand as they left the Dawn Throne, a hand clenched into a fist so tight that only her gloves protected her palms from her nails.
She knew perfectly well what they would find, of course. The Dotharl hid nothing, cared not for the trickery and subterfuge that characterized many of the other clans. She did not know why Magnai sent her and Gosetsu on this task regardless; perhaps he hoped the Dotharl would kill them, or perhaps he was merely an idiot.
Their journey to Dotharl Khaa passed mostly in quiet, though she did ask for one quick stop as they neared it. Rather than explaining, she simply set down her bags, pulled out a thick black cloth bandana, and tied it around her face.
"Why do you hide your face so, if I may be so bold?"
"There is something in the wind here that disagrees with me. And I wish to blend in a bit more with the locals; no doubt you saw the Qestir in Reunion."
A half-truth at best; though there could be the occasional dust-storm, her deep blue Sharlayan robes would mean the only thing she'd be blending in with would be the deep moat around the Dawn Throne. She merely did not wish to be recognized, but if she were to explain that then Gosetsu would ask her all kinds of questions she'd rather not avoid.
(Besides, it was not out of character for her to wear a bandana, though she had never told them the truth even then. They thought it was a fashion statement, but in truth there moments where she caught a look at her reflection in a pool or a sword or a shield and it all seemed wrong and she was thrown back dozens of summers, before the fantasia, before everything, and her disgust and dysphoria returned and drove her to hide as much as she could.)
And then the two of them came to the Dotharl encampment and her heart froze again because there, staring at the two of them, was a face she hadn't seen since the last night before she left the Steppe. Sadu Dotharl, her childhood friend, stood before her, and for a brief moment she thought she saw recognition in her eyes--but then it passed, and Astra let her shoulders relax a little.
There was a storm in her heart when she left, having 'learned' exactly what she already knew. Should she return? Could she? Could she bear to see Sadu one more time before the Naadam knowing that it might only deepen her pain if her friend died tomorrow? But she saw a future where she never went, a future where she stood over her corpse having never even said a goodbye, and she knew she had no choice.
So one they returned to the Dawn Throne and Hien and Lyse were freed from Magnai, she told them she would be returning to the Dotharl. "There is a matter I must attend to. I will return in time to rest for the Naadam." she said; she prayed they would not inquire further, and for a mercy they did not.
The patrol guard smoothly stepped in front of her as she approached the camp. "Traveler. Although I recognize our Khatun has given you leave to walk among us, your arrival at this late hour is suspicious. What business have you here?"
"I wish to speak with the khatun herself."
"And you could not have done so when you were here with your mountainous companion?"
"It is a delicate matter. One that requires me to speak with her alone."
"You journey here on behalf of the accursed Oronir to scout our encampment, and then you request a private meeting with our leader?" He scoffed at her and drew upon his full height, as if he could look down on her even more. "Shall I give you all of our arms and armor for safekeeping as well?"
She shook her head. "Please, believe me when I say I mean no harm. Tell her..." She paused, searching her memories for a name that she hadn't spoken in a long time. "Tell her Qera wants to see her and she will surely wish to meet with me. If she does not, then I give you my word I will leave."
The guard looked at her skeptically. "Very well. But if you waste her time then you will find out in short order how she punishes those that seek to trick her." He turned around and made his way back towards the camp, and Astra let out a sigh of relief. Her shoulders slumped, and she played with her staff as she waited, turning it around and around in her hand, swinging it a little back and forth. Would she remember her name? Would she remember her?
A few moments later, Sadu strode out of her dwelling like a woman with a purpose. "Kepek tells me that you asked to meet. He said you gave him a name that I have not heard for quite some amount of time." She scowled at her, and Astra did her level best to meet her gaze. "You will leave your weapon with him, we will meet in the open field, and if a single hair on my head comes to harm then you'll be dead before you hit the ground. Are we clear, traveler?"
Astra swallowed. She remembered the last time she left her weapon behind, the poison and the betrayal and Ilberd's smirking face. But. She had to do this. She might not get another chance. So she nodded, presented her Kaladanda to the one Sadu had called Kepek, and followed her to a spot that she couldn't help but notice was a few dozen fulms in front of two very serious-looking archers.
"Speak, traveler. Tell me how you learned of that name." Sadu's voice was level, even.
"I did not learn it; I chose it, back when I was a woman of the Gharl. Surely if you remember that name then you must remember our friendship?" There was hopefulness in her voice, searching for any hint of belief, any hint of compassion and kindness (because yes, she knew Sadu was bloodthirsty and savage, but she remembered the kindness, the comfort, the nights she had spent learning thaumaturgy or weaving each others' hair).
"I remember a woman named Qera, yes. But I do not remember her looking anything like you. At best, you could pass for her sister. Is this some kind of Oronir trickery, then, to attempt to soften me up before the Naadam?"
"This is no trick; I really, truly am Qera! I returned to you so that I could see my childhood friend one last time before I face her in combat."
Sadu just stared at her for a while, her face level. "Tell me something only Qera and I would know. If you cannot, then the soil will drink your blood."
It didn't take long for Astra to find something. Much of that time was tainted, poisoned and sharp and painful to recall, but there was one memory that stood out. There was one moment she had returned to often in the nights before she had started to remake herself, in the nights where she constantly lived in fear and hatred of her own body
"The last night I saw you, the night before I left, you told me that if anyone insisted on calling me a man, then I should burn their lying tongue to ash. I have not yet done so, though there have been moments where I came close."
She could see the look on Sadu's face: skepticism giving way to amazement. But soon afterwards it gave way to one of joy, and if Astra was a smaller woman then she surely would've been crushed by the sheer force of Sadu's embrace.
"By the gods, it really is you!"
She just smiled and put her arms around Sadu's midsection, turned her head so that she could rest her head against her shoulder without poking her with her horns. "It is. It's good to see you again, Sadu." She closed her eyes for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of their reunion, and when she opened them she could see the two archers that had been stationed looking back and forth between them, their bows half-lowered in confusion. "Ah, could you tell your guards to stop pointing their arrows at me?"
Sadu held up her hand and waved both of them off; they were still puzzled, but clearly they knew not to question their khatun. Then she beckoned Kepek over, and he bowed a fraction as he presented Kaladanda back to Astra. She closed her eyes in relief as she felt its familiar thrum in her grip, felt its magic wash up and down her arms like a nice warm splash of water, then turned back to her long-lost friend.
"Why did you not tell me it was you when you visited earlier?"
"I was not sure how you would react. Gosetsu is a good man, and I did not wish to involve him in my own conflicts. And he can be rather... traditional, I suppose."
"You're worried about him finding out why you left?"
"Mmm. I know he would be supportive; my allies have been nothing but, else I would not call them such. And yet."
"And yet you would be reluctant to reduce him to ashes if he turned out to be vile."
"Well, yes."
"Everyone has their faults. Come, let us sit."
Sadu turned and strode off to her yurt, and Astra followed behind her. It was passing strange being shorter than the other woman for once, but it was not unwelcome in the slightest. She had been taller than most of the other women growing up due to her... unfortunate biology, and she had always resented it.
Once they were inside, Sadu sat down cross-legged in front of a small bowl filled with some kind of dumplings standing atop a fire that lit up the hut. As Astra sat down opposite her and leaned in, she could smell the cooked meat, the seasonings, the dough.
"Is that buuz?" She hadn't had any buuz since... since she left. She'd rarely eaten it with her family; instead, it brought back memories of playing and laughing and spending her time among the Dotharl, among people who could accept her for who she was. A pang of longing, of her memories of a past she had left behind when she made for Eorzea.
Sadu grinned and nodded before she reached down and popped an entire dumpling into her mouth on one quick motion. "Indeed. Dotharl tradition is for all those who fight in the Naadam to partake so that our bellies are full tomorrow." She picked up another one, turned it back and forth in front of her. "And I suppose the tradition would extend to any of those who fought under our banner."
Astra scoffed (even if her stomach rumbled a little at the thought). "I pledged myself to the Mol, and you would not make me an oathbreaker so easily."
She ate half the dumpling in one bite, and the other half a few moments later. "I suppose that is true. But it would be rude of me to not offer you water." Sadu reached to her side to undo the stopper on her waterskin--
ice and snow and cold betrayal and falling, falling, falling into oblivion, Thancred and Midgardsormr and an antidote given on the brink of death
"No!" Astra squeezed Kaladanda in a grip so tight not even a Roegadyn could wrest it from her; her breath was shallow and ragged. She closed her eyes, forced herself to take deep breaths and slowly, slowly unclench her white-knuckled grip on her weapon.
"No?" Sadu stopped midway through and looked askance at her.
Astra sighed, let her shoulders slump to the side, and shook her head. "Taking drink from others has nearly led to my death more than once. I will not do so again."
Sadu just raised an eyebrow at her, but brought the waterskin to her own lips instead with a small shrug. Once she had slaked her thirst, she stopped it up, placed it by her side, and pulled her ankles in closer to her hips as she leaned in closer to the fire.
"So why have you returned to the Steppe after all this time? I cannot imagine you overtaken by nostalgia."
"How much do you know of the world outside the Steppe? I remember seeing traders from Doma even before I had left."
Sadu waved her hand dismissively. "The outside world is not our concern. We are born here, we live here, we fight here, we die here. They do not bother us, so why should we be concerned with their affairs?"
"I suppose. Then I will keep it simple: I seek the aid of your--of our people in liberating others, the nations of Ala Mhigo and Doma, from the tyranny of a nation known as the Garlean Empire."
Sadu paused with another dumpling in her fingers, turning it this way and that as if inspecting it for any hidden flaws. "Why?"
"Because they suffer under the Empire's rule, because they treat all those who are not Empire-born as beneath them."
"And why does this concern any of you? Surely Ala Mhigo and Doma fought back when the Empire attacked, yes?"
"Well, yes, they did."
"And clearly they lost. So then why do you fight for them? They are not of our race, let alone our bloodline." Sadu looked at Astra for a while, waiting for her response; those ice-blue eyes were just as piercing as she remembered.
Astra was taken aback. She had certainly always known that Sadu was like this, concerned more for her own kith and kin than for any outside the Dotharl, but this was far more callous than she thought her capable of being. She had always taken it as axiomatic that the weak needed protection from the strong, that the world needed heroes to defend those who could not defend themselves, and that those who disagreed were simply wrong. It was as if Sadu had calmly and sincerely asked her why she believed that two and two made four.
"Why did you fight for me? I was weak, then. I could not protect myself from their blows, their taunts, their insistence I was merely delusional and I would never be a woman." She clenched the fingers of one of her hands up, dug her nails into the palm of her hand so much it hurt. The pain focused her; it was physical, it was nothing she hadn't felt a hundred times before. She could deal with it. "Do you regret saving me from them? Do you wish you had left me to die?!" Her voice was just barely below a shout, and for a moment she worried that one of the guards might overhear her, or even worse, think she was threatening their khatun. She turned her eyes to meet that impassive gaze, forcing herself to look her in the eyes.
Sadu met her gaze, her face level. "I did not protect you because you were weak. If your clansmates had made fun of you for aught else, if they stole from you, if they abandoned you, I would not have cared one bit." She leaned in, and the fire danced in her eyes, red and orange flickering over the pale blue of her irises. "I protected you because they denied who you are."
"What difference does that make? The Garleans view those of Doma and Ala Mhigo as lesser beings merely for the simple fact that they were not born of Garlemald; is that not the same?"
Sadu shook her head. "It is the opposite; they acknowledge who they are! If a Dotharl were to say that I am merely pretending to be Sadu, it would be a grievous insult. It would be disrespectful to me as khatun, but disrespectful to me as a person as well, in this life and all my others." She leaned back, dipped a hand down to take another buuz and bite into it, chewed and swallowed before continuing. "We do not retain the memories of our past selves when our souls return to the world. We only have a... a feeling within us." The hand not holding the buuz went up and over her heart. "I know I am Sadu in the same way that I know I am a woman. And so when you told me, when you told us, that you are a woman, every single one of us could understand what it meant to you."
Silence. The fire crackled and danced in between them. Astra could feel its heat on her skin and its aether on her soul. She turned Kaladanda back and forth in her hands: a nervous habit she'd picked up a long time ago. She knew every weapon she had ever wielded by heart. Even if all her friends abandoned her, even if she was alone, she could always trust them to be by her side.
"I am forever grateful for what the Dotharl did for me. Were it not for you, I would likely not be alive today. But I suppose on this matter, we will simply have to disagree."
"Indeed."
Sadu finished her buuz. "Astra. We are friends, and I respect your cause, but I will not hesitate to take your life in the Naadam if I must."
"I know." She moved a little closer to the fire, then pressed her knees up against her chest. "I would not insult you and your tribe by asking you to stay your hand for my sake. I am sure I would not be the only friend you have killed."
Silence fell for a moment, and Astra took the time to watch the way the shadows danced over her face, the way they seemed to sharpen every little scar and cut and mark of her life of fighting. The fire crackled, popped, and spat an ember out into the air, where it floated away on the wisps of the steppe breeze that managed to sneak into the hut.
"It is late, and I must return to the Mol. Falling asleep in the Naadam would be quite an... ignoble..." She trailed off. An idea occurred to her. Sure, it would make Sadu absolutely despise her. But she could deal with that as long as she was still alive afterwards.
"Is something wrong? Have you been overcome with fear at the thought of facing me?"
She shook her head, but smiled a little. "Oh, yes, rest assured. I'm shivering in my boots." She stood up, stretched her arms and tail, and turned around.
"Astra."
She turned back just in time to catch the buuz that Sadu tossed her way.
"I told you, my allegiance is with the Mol."
"And though tradition dictates that the buuz are given to those that fight for us, it does not say that we may not give them to others in turn." Sadu grinned and lifted the now-empty pot off of the fire. "Rest well, Astra."
"And you as well, Sadu." With that, she finally made her way out of the yurt, past the guards and to her yol. She turned her plan over in her head the entire time on the way back. It was risky, for certain, and most mages would rend their minds trying to perform the necessary thaumaturgy. But she bore the soul crystal of black mages past. She was Astra Brightflame, Warrior of Light. If anyone could do it, she could.
She contented herself with that thought when she slipped into her bedroll, repeated it to herself over and over until she believed it.
Sadu always relished the Naadam. Even if the Dotharl lost again, even if the thrice-damned Oronir spent another year perched atop the Dawn Throne, even if Magnai spent twelve long moons looking for his supposed Nhaama, she always exulted in the sheer joy of the combat. Her soul sang with each foe she struck down, each spirit she sent on to whatever afterlife awaited those not of the Dotharl that fell that day. Fire and ice were at her beck and call; skin charred at her whim and limbs froze at her will.
But there was one person, one warrior, she longed to face above all others. (Well, perhaps two: she was always, always eager for an opportunity to send Magnai back to his beloved Azim). Where was Astra? She cast out her aetherial sense, looking for other disturbances, other mages that warped the aether around them.
And there she saw her in her mind's eye. It was subtle at first; her magic was not flashy, none of the massive explosions Sadu herself favored. But each blow struck true, used just enough magic to smash through armor and aether. Nothing could stand in her way. It had to be her.
There was a wild grin on her face as she fought her way towards her. She was a woman on a mission, and nobody would stand in her way. She fought and fought through the crowd until at last she saw her friend, her rival, her challenger, bending the steppe's aether to her will.
"ASTRA!"
She saw her head turn, saw her eyes widen, and in that moment she let loose a torrent of thunder on where the other woman stood. But it crackled against an invisible barrier (a stray bolt piercing a nearby Qestir through the chest) and Sadu found herself fending off fireball after fireball. They were stronger than she expected, stronger even than her own. She knew her be strong, but this was something far exceeding her expectations. So she laughed and laughed as she pressed in, doing her best to swat away her spells (a Qerel woman burst into flame, sank to her knees in agony) and then she was on her in a flash, knocking her staff out of her hand, pinning her to the ground with one knee and a hand on her shoulder as she pointed the tip of her staff at her throat. But before she could cast anything, Astra reached up and angled the staff away and then the two of them were on the ground, rolling around and grappling, both trying for the upper hand. It was a foolish maneuver on her part; Sadu had always been able to beat her in hand-to-hand combat when they sparred growing up, and now was no different. And so eventually she managed to pin her down, a wild grin on her face.
"You're--"
and then Astra screamed out something in a language she had never heard before, three sharp syllables that seemed to cut through the air and the noise of the Naadam and Sadu could feel the hands on her wrists start to heat up as she looked down and saw them wreathed in fire and she only had a moment to wonder what the hells she could be doing before fire engulfed them both.
By the time she woke up, Astra had managed to recover her staff and had it pointed down at her, the tip of it pressed against her throat. Sadu was staring death in the face, and all she could think was that she could cut quite an imposing figure. Shame she had to be so afraid of death.
"Any last words?" Astra said, loud enough for all to hear. A nearby Dotharl warrior saw Sadu lying on the ground and made to run over, but a stray arrow caught him in the stomach and he dropped to the ground with a grimace.
She just looked up at her with a smile; not the battle-crazed grin she wore before, but a genuine one of friendship. "It has been an honor knowing you, my friend. May I meet you in my next life."
She looked back down at her, her face emotionless. It was a strange look on her. "I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me."
Forgive her? What--
and then a torrent of fire. An explosion surrounded the two of them, a maelstrom of fire-aspected aether that scarred and charred the ground. But... Sadu felt none of it; to her, all the hellish flames were as nothing more than a warm summer's day. Before she could ask Astra what was going on, she felt another spell overtake her, fatigue soaking her limbs to the very bone and leaving her unable to keep her eyes open or manage a single word. The last thing she heard before she slipped into unconsciousness was the other woman's voice.
"I'm sorry."
By the time her fellow Dotharl realized the trick and roused her to consciousness, Astra had already become khagan. And once the ironmen had been routed from their foolhardy attempt at an invasion, she was already gone. So be it. She was a patient women, and she could show Astra the price she'd pay for choosing to spare her this life.