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Tul 'Juran had terrible luck when it came to fathers. Perhaps it was a curse, given that she was an exception to the rule that Sangheili could not know their fathers.
First her biological father died, then one of her two spiritual ones turned his blade towards her. It did not matter that he'd still seemingly been conflicted about her, had spared her life, and had tried to give her a final warning to not cross his path on the battlefield again. No, he should've known better - she would have Dovo Nesto's head for taking what was now two fathers from her. Always, the San'Shyuum - not just this one, but all of them - were taking from her. No victorious battles and captured criminals ever seemed to turn the tide of loss in her favor.
She had demanded an explanation for how the blademaster could betray his people, his warriors and shipmaster, for those that killed and suppressed them. What she really should've asked for was an answer of how he could betray her. All those words to try piercing her vengeful mind had appeared to be for the sake of her own inner peace and ability to maintain a warrior's composure. Looking back... he had just been trying to take the easy way out of his betrayal. They weren't for her sake. If he had ever thought of her, then he wouldn't have denied her justice, nor aided those that had taken from her mercilessly. He spoke of "the best for a keep" with no awareness of the irony.
But he wasn't the only father figure left in her life after the death of her true one. The knowledge of that did the opposite of ease her, though. She was now two for two; what would become of Rtas 'Vadum with her misfortunate track record? Would his ship be shot down, him going down with it? Would he be felled by a blade - potentially the blademaster's? Would he, too, betray her? She shouldn't ponder the latter, but it couldn't be helped. She'd never imagine the blademaster would betray them, yet it had happened. How could she be sure of others from here on out?
One more chance. As the humans she was increasingly becoming accustomed to had phrased it, "three strikes". Apparently, it took three strikes to kill them. She'd question that, but three certainly felt enough for her. If she lost Shipmaster 'Vadum to either death or treachery... She wouldn't be able to take it anymore. Already, with two notches taken from her belt, she barely could.
"Before I lose another of my own," is what he had said when warning her to retreat. She shared the same sentiment.
