Chapter Text
Three years passed before Rafiel asked to see the other areas of Hatari beyond Liltan. Nailah took him with her as she toured around Hatari, visiting the leaders of the different territories and cities and making her presence felt amongst her people. Everyone was exceptionally interested in Rafiel.
Everytime Rafiel felt overwhelmed by questions or attention Nailah would step in, asking them if this is the hospitality they wanted to show heron royalty, and they would apologize to Rafiel and back off. Rafiel would apologize for being flustered, reminded of the way Naesala would often play interference between his more boisterous ravens and the demure herons, although there was no one, aside from Reyson, who would call Naesala out for being too loud around the other herons.
Rafiel was entranced by the lakes of Ashai, and the mangrove trees that grew along the lakes and rivers, and the lush vegetation that grew in every direction as far as Rafiel could see, so vastly different from the desert sands of Shuneri, with scattered oases around aqueducts and the large river that cut down from Ashai. Rafiel almost didn’t want to leave Ashai, he yearned to live amongst the trees, in the lakes. And yet he would have to do that alone, without Nailah by his side, and he loathed that idea more intensely than the feelings that closed his throat and made him feel faint when he thought of what had been done to his people. Nailah indulged him with many trips to Ashai, amused at the way he would move through the lakes transformed into the form of a heron, a state he hadn’t taken on since his arrival in Hatari.
Kintara was as novel to Rafiel as the desert. The rich terracotta colored dirt, the high cliffs, plateaus, and low valleys. The coasts of Kintara were wide and low with black sands, black sands!, and had large villages and towns built along the beaches, with boats used for fishing. Nailah told him that there used to be civilizations far off the east coast, before the flood, but now there were only the vast and endless seas. Rafiel had only seen the southern seas of Tellius a few times in his life, before Naesala, the southern edges of the forest had been overrun by pirates hiding from Begnion. He watched the distant ocean waters glimmer under the sun directly overhead, and small waves curl against the black sands of the shore, while Nailah spoke to the leaders of the villages along the shore.
The shore had vegetation that was harvested from beneath the water, seaweed. It had a strong flavor, tasting as salty as the air smelled. He wondered if seaweed existed in the southern oceans of Tellius, and if it did, what the others would have thought if they had tried it. He found it a little unpleasant himself, and, although he tried to hide his opinion and ate all the seaweed offered to him, he noticed that Nailah never asked for it to be offered for him to try again.
Alongside a large town on the coast of Kintara, Naliah pointed out a large set of docks with ships that were bigger than the kind used by the fishing villages. She explained it was a port they used to bring food and other goods to a far off island shielded by cliffs. She explained that the surviving owls had settled there after the flood, and only those who could fly could settle on the island.
"(Is this part of Hatari as well?)"
"(No, they are separate, and not involved with us much. The owls very rarely settle in our lands.)"
"(Why do they isolate themselves there if you trade with them?)"
"(It is not trade, but tribute offered freely from our excess. They could not survive without it.)"
Rafiel pursed his lips as he looked out towards the horizon. "(They're guarding something for you,)" he surmised.
Nailah nodded. "(They do not want you to know yet. Only Hatari's rulers know what the owls do.)"
"(That’s fine, Naesala always had his secrets too. I suppose all rulers must.)"
Nailah smiled, placing a hand on Rafiel’s shoulder. "(One day, you will know.)"
"(I don't think I will ever rule Hatari,)" Rafiel said softly, smiling.
---
It was five years after arriving in Hatari before Rafiel could sing again. Song had been a way of life in Serenes. Singing as he woke, singing because the forest was beautiful, singing because he was overwhelmed by beauty, singing songs to plants to help them grow, help them protect the herons, obscure the paths from intruders. Singing with family, singing on his own, singing to join in the chorus of other herons living within the woods.
He had sung little after being captured, it was impossible with iron chains chafing his wrists and ankles, weighing his body down until he could barely move, choking him with the bitter metallic scent of iron. After Hetzel had put him into a temple and made attempts to heal Rafiel, he had sung sometimes at sunrise, wishing his voice could reach his family to let them know he was alive.
The pain, the suffering, of the herons as Serenes burned had destroyed everything within Rafiel that knew how to desire to sing. He had feared that song had left him completely, not even the Feasts of Salvation he attended, with all the enthusiasm and joy, allowed him to lift his voice to join their chorus. Any time he tried, his throat was dry and his voice would crack.
So, one day, after a heavy rain, when he went out to the desert plains and found vibrant fields of flowering plants poking through the sands, he almost didn’t notice that he sang to plants. He reached down to a creeping vine with large pink flowers and sang of its beauty as naturally as he had in Serenes, cupping a bud in his hands. The flower grew larger, blooming under the magic of his song and he stopped as he suddenly realized what he was doing.
He smiled at the flower and continued to sing to it. He sang to the other plants in the plains, moving between the vines and cacti and bushes, losing himself to the beauty of the nature surrounding him that he never heeded the crowd that gathered behind him, quietly watching him move and sing, and marvel at the way the plants responded to him.
He didn’t notice until he turned and saw Nailah standing before him, a hand on her hip and a smile on her face as she looked at him. He then noticed the crowd, watching from dozens of yards distant from him.
“(Is this something herons do?)” Nailah asked, her voice gentle and soft, “(Sing to the plants?)”
“(We sing to nature to communicate with it,)” Rafiel said. “(I- I haven’t been able to for years.)”
“(I’m glad you can communicate with our nature.)” Nailaih smiled at him as radiantly as the sunrise behind her.
Rafiel nodded and turned back to the flowers.
The residents of Hatari, especially those within the castle of Liltan, became familiar with the singing habits of herons, and the seid magic harnessed within their galdrar after that.
---
In his seventh year in Hatari, Rafiel was singing during a Feast of Salvation as the colored powder, which he had learned was chalk, dyed and crushed, was thrown around, when he caught sight of Nailah throwing a vibrant blue powder at Volug. Nailah’s one good eye looked over at Rafiel, and she smiled at him, and the feeling in her heart towards him made him feel like they were the only two people there.
It was so warm and flighty, paradoxically tender while running with the deep ferocity she approached every matter with. Rafiel was grateful his face was already plastered with the colored powder as he felt his cheeks burn. She smiled at Rafiel, the turquoise powder plastered to her lips and chin cracking a little, and she winked at him before throwing the rest of the dark blue powder in her hands at him.
He responded in kind by throwing a burgundy powder at her, but his head spun. How had he not noticed before? He had been watching the hearts around him so constantly, how had he not noticed the affection in her heart when she looked at him before?
How had he never realized her feelings?
As the night wore on and he sang and ate under torchlight, looking at her, strong and powerful and confident, but always so kind and compassionate and thoughtful, he realized with some chagrin that he had also taken a long while to realize how he felt about her.
---
In his tenth year in Hatari, Rafiel finally attended the Fighting Festival when the final rounds were fought in Liltan, sitting by Nailah in the stands. It stressed him to watch the brutal violence, the bloody wounds the participants inflicted upon each other, but he watched the clergy of Hatari heal the wounded after, and there was little malice. The strong breeze helped him.
When Nailah fought, it called to mind the rivers of Shuneri when they would flood in the spring, swift and raging and the feelings it stirred within him were ineffable, comprising equal parts admiration and concern.
---
In his twentieth year in Hatari, Rafiel was sitting in the throne room with Nailah when he heard the faint sound of a chime. He sat up straight and looked around.
The voice of Serenes, calling out to a heron. The whispered secrets of the trees, indiscernable at this distance.
Rafiel tore out of the throne room and towards the gates of Liltan. He came to a standstill in the sands, looking towards the source of the sound to the south.
Nailah came up next to Rafiel, and put a hand on his shoulder. “(Rafiel?)”
He heard the chime again, reverberating across the distant winds. It was real. He looked up to Nailah. “(Serenes is calling for me. I-)” He looked back over towards the dunes in the horizon. “(Something there is alive,)” he whispered.
“(I will make arrangements, and we will go.)”
Rafiel nodded.