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It was hard adjusting to life in Phoenicis. The island was sizable, and you had not traveled the expanse of it, but you were also unable to without the ability to fly. While Tibarn had no qualms about bringing you on his travels, you often chose to remain here instead, figuring that you would be far too much of a burden to him—it’s hard carrying a beorc such great distances, even for someone as strong as your mate.
You did manage to leave behind your life as a merchant, however, instead taking charge of imports and exports because your knowledge of the economy was quite decent. You spoke often with the citizens of Phoenicis, ensuring that you understood their needs and wants, familiarizing yourself with the hawks and their goods.
Tibarn had assigned Janaff as your personal assistant, someone whom you could rely on if you needed help translating the different dialects spoken in Phoenicis or required an explanation of culture and traditions. The hawks were generally welcoming, if a little suspect, of their beorc queen—you wondered if their acceptance was due to their undying loyalty to Tibarn, who was not only the strongest of their species, but who also led them well during times of turmoil.
You were proud of him, and as time went on, he did less and less pillaging of beorc vessels, turning to more honest work as the king of his nation. This pleased you, of course, as it helped with the relations between beorc and laguz.
But, more than anything, you were happy with Tibarn, who was a surprisingly doting husband. For a man so gruff and scarred, he took great lengths to ensure your comfort and safety.
When he was home, he would spend nights with you, sharing a bottle of wine and watching the stars, the sea crashing against the crags below, ocean air briny and crisp.
“Do you ever miss life before this?” you said one evening, knowing well that he spent more time in Phoenicis because you were here.
“There’s not much to miss.”
“Are you just saying that? Or are you just scared of my wrath if you tell me how much you enjoy pirating merchant ships and slaughtering beorc?”
Tibarn tilted his head back and forth. “Well, I do enjoy a good fight—but your wrath is my top concern.”
“Mm.” You rolled your eyes. “It should be, considering how nonchalant you are about it.”
“Oh, have I offended you, my queen?”
“You offend me every day with that tone of yours,” you said, shoving him away playfully with your hand.
Of course, he didn’t move very far, being larger and heavier than you, and he gave you an amused expression. “And how are you faring in Phoenicis. Janaff tells me you’re learning our ways quickly.”
“It’s really not so hard when the people are so kind.” You paused. “But I wonder if they only respect me because of you.”
“We’re hawks, _____. We don’t have allegiances to bloodlines like beorc do. If my hawks respect you, it’s because you’re worthy of it.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes. They may be loyal to me, but the laguz do not mince words. If they had concerns about you, they would be vocal about them to both you and me. We are not so easily offended by talk as the beorc are.”
You laughed. “You’re right—us beorc are a little sensitive, aren’t we?” The upper echelons of beorc nobility were riddled with rules on etiquette and appropriate social conduct. It made you dizzy, just thinking about it. It seemed that the laguz were far more straightforward with their interactions with one another, and you preferred that. The honesty was refreshing.
Tibarn downed his wine, setting the glass aside, and he glanced at you. “I never thought I’d choose a beorc for a mate.”
“You sound a little disgusted with yourself,” you teased.
“You think I’d dare admit it, even if it were true?”
You stood near the edge of the cliffs—they were high and intimidating, the waves breaking upon the rocky crags before drifting back into the ocean, weathering foam and saltwater. It would be quite a plunge down for a beorc, but for the hawks, this was home, and the journey to the sea and back was only made possible by their magnificent wings.
Still, you weren’t envious. The prospect of flying long distances never appealed to you. You much preferred the stern of your ship, tending to the sails, the feel of the billow beneath you, the wrath of whatever beasts lay fathoms below. Perhaps you only preferred what you were used to. That seemed to be the norm for most people, both beorc and laguz.
“Careful,” Tibarn said, as he arrived behind you, “the wind might sweep you away.”
“Well, wouldn’t that be fortunate? I can return to the ocean, and you can marry someone who isn’t beorc?”
He chuckled. “All joking aside, I would never.”
“Never what?”
“I would never select another mate after you. As I’ve said before, hawks mate for life.”
“I remember.” It made you feel honored, actually, knowing that Tibarn had chosen you, that there was no backing out of your relationship. While you were leaving behind a life that you knew and loved, he was also committing to you, and he made that vow public for everyone to witness.
“Do you miss it?” he said.
“What?”
“Life before this? Before us?” He touched you, letting his hand run through your hair, an affectionate gesture he only gave you in private.
“I do. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean that I’d change anything.” You smiled at him. “I chose you, too, you know. It’s not like you twisted my arm into a union.”
“Well, that’s a relief—you’d never let me hear the end of it, if that were the case.”
You took a sip of your wine—Tibarn always seemed to finish his before you, even downing the whole bottle sometimes. That was fine by you, as you only ever wanted a glass or two. “You know I’m vocal. I can’t help it.”
“You don’t ever hold back, no matter how brusque the words. I like that about you.”
“I’m not so sure you did when we first met.”
“On the contrary, I liked your tenacity and boldness from the beginning. I respected your courage to stand up to me, even if I could have killed you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you said, leaning into his chest. “I admit I was surprised you didn’t, though, given how I refused your demands.”
“The decision was simple. You’re a unique breed of beorc—I didn’t think Phoenicis would have benefited from your death.” He held you close, strong arms around your shoulders. “I wouldn’t have either.”
“Oh, you’re such a merciful king.”
“Aren’t I?” Tibarn drank directly from the bottle of wine, taking a long draught as if the quality were no issue.
“Hey, now!” you said. “You’re supposed to sip on that slowly. It’s an expensive imported vintage from Begnion—you can’t just go glugging it as if it were one of your home-brewed rums.”
“My tribe paid for this expensive vintage, so I can drink it as I please.”
You glared at him. “I married a heathen.”
“So it seems.” He filled your glass. “Happy?”
“No. I’d rather not drink your nasty backwashed wine—”
He cut you off with a fierce and passionate kiss, his free hand drawing you close by the waist.
You could taste the wine on your tongue, notes of smoke and tart cherries, a hint of black currants and herbaceous dryness. So much for not sharing saliva. Nevertheless, you leaned into the kiss, savoring these rare romantic moments.
Tibarn was not particularly sentimental—in fact, not many of the hawks were. They were quite focused on the here and now, actions today that would impact their futures. While Tibarn shared that attitude with the remainder of his tribe, he was also keen on your feelings. Beorc were frivolous in his opinion, often cherishing material things and luxuries that laguz would consider trivial.
You remembered his expression when you showed him a kaleidoscope for the first time, one of the many items displayed in the cabin of the Liberty. He looked captivated for a moment, perhaps merely surprised by the vast colors and shapes. Then, he said: “Why do the beorc need a mechanism such as this when they have the night sky?”
“We’re too far away, I suppose,” you said, legitimately perplexed by his question. “You hawks can climb so high. We can’t. We need to see it right in front of our faces to appreciate the beauty sometimes.”
“Would you like to fly beneath the stars?”
“Nope,” you said, placing the kaleidoscope back on its stand. “I’d rather have my feet on the ground, thank you.”
“All you have is this flimsy boat. Really, you barely have a few layers of wood between you and the water.”
“I can swim. And don’t make fun of my ship or I’ll throw you overboard.”
The conversation ended there, but you never forgot it. The sky really was their reason for existence, the medium in which they could fly upon their hawk wings—as such, the stars were of importance to them, more than mere diamonds caught in an inky black tapestry.
And as Tibarn kissed you in that moment, bathed in starlight, you felt a sense of serenity, a calling and comfort that could only be found in his arms.
You heard the bottle of wine fall, glass shattering, as Tibarn touched your face with both hands, deepening the kiss. Inadvertently, the wine glass fell from your fingertips as well, joining its counterpart on the ground.
He smelled of the ocean, a coastal citrus hewed with hints of mist and rain, a touch of wild palm and lavender, and you drank him in with every stroke of your fingers against his bare chest, every press forward as your lips beckoned for more.
“I can’t believe you let that wine go to waste,” you whispered as you broke away for a breath of air. “It was such a good one.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, and he picked you up effortlessly, one hand beneath your legs the other supporting your back. He began to trek back to the home you shared in the great halls of the hawk tribe.
The night would continue, in part under the stars, and certainly with another few bottles of wine.
