Then I would like to spend some time with you.

Kiss.

Kiss.

And he thinks back to the memory of Maitimo's words and lets it hit him again, how much he wants—

If you felt like being a little scary right now, he says, I'd like that.

We were going to try hitting you with all the things you're scared of, to check if you can get through it that way. I don't suppose - actually, I do suppose there are daffodils somewhere and you can go fetch them.

That is more than a little scary - and likely more than some time's worth of it, too - but Taliar finds himself tentatively in favour of the idea when he checks.

And what will you do with me once I have them, my love?

Whatever I want. And you will tell me you love me, through all of it.

That is going to be... genuinely difficult. He has to think about it. Daffodils are serious.

But - knowing about it ahead of time, making the commitment ahead of time, having this strong a source of a please-scare-me mood to draw on... he thinks he can manage it. He is willing to try. He accepts the risk that it might go very badly for him, and he knows he will be okay no matter what.

All right. Kiss. I will go fetch daffodils. Love you forever.

Now, where is he going to find them...

Pretty far south, unless he wants to fuck with Doriath.

He does not especially want to fuck with Doriath.

But the landshaping power has been refining itself for more and more detail since he got it - as soon as he finds some, it's pretty trivial to make them come to him. Although he will still have to go meet them outside the city to avoid worrying anyone by sending flowers zipping through the streets.

He goes. He spends the trip there practicing operating his body and his landshaping at the same time - these daffodils are going to have a lovely stone flowerpot for him to carry back to the palace.

And there they are, and it takes a major effort of will to go pick them up, and the first breath hits him and he can hear Nahira laughing, and he stands very still and doesn't drop the flowers and that's all he can manage, for a long few seconds. He can see her so clearly, her beautiful, beautiful eyes...

It wasn't the first time he saw her. He'd been staying in the castle for a couple of weeks at that point, and she'd been in town for a few days; he'd glimpsed her once or twice at social functions, been introduced. Den-aminde Rysher Nahira. Her soul was unsettling to look at but it was a quiet one, didn't give much away at a glance besides a vague feeling that this was not a healthy person to know. No one in Seofar's court was very healthy to know, except Kelora, who didn't count; her father treated her like an ornament, an afterthought, a token to be spent on the legitimization of his independence.

(He starts walking, back toward the palace, maintaining the outward appearance of absolutely nothing being wrong. He's very good at it even with most of his mind lost in memory.)

So, the night before the wedding, he went up to his rooms after a long day of hating everything about this awful situation, and she was waiting for him in the hall. He knew the instant he laid eyes on her that this was going to be a deeply uncomfortable conversation; he had no idea just how bad it was going to get. Her soul, glinting blood-red in the low light, offered him a deeper understanding of her predatory nature that unfolded slowly over the course of the conversation. She smelled like flowers, some particular kind that he could probably have named if he knew anything about flowers.

"Kazaryne," she said familiarly. He flinched a little, and she smiled, and he felt a jolt of genuine fear, at which provocation her smile widened. "I thought it was time we talked."

"Den-aminde Nahira," he said, taking refuge in the ambiguous formality of addressing her by soulname. "About what?"

"Oh... let's start with family history." Her eyes glittered. They were so captivatingly gorgeous, those eyes. "I knew your mother, once. Has she ever mentioned me?"

"Can't say that she has, no." Although he'd never had a chance to talk to her between finding out he was going to leave and leaving, which he was starting to think had been intentional. What in the world was Esarkan playing at?

"No? Nothing? No stories of old times? No warnings?" She smiled, but there was a deep anger in her eyes.

This wasn't just an awkward social situation. Taliar was in real danger here, and he had no idea how to talk his way out of it. He didn't even know what powers her soul held, although it seemed wise to assume on principle that he wasn't going to be able to fight his way out if it came to that. In his uncertainty, he let the silence go on a little too long.

Nahira shook her head and tsked. "Remiss of her. You'd think she'd have a word to spare for an old flame." His mother dated this woman? His disbelief must have shown on his face, because Nahira laughed. "Oh yes, once upon a time, we were in love. Well, I know I was in love. Aeleva was a little less free with her feelings."

"I've never known her to have trouble expressing herself," he ventured, and then immediately regretted it. That smile. Okay, enough was enough. "And I'm sorry, but it's been a long day and I am not interested in having this conversation right now."

He tried to step past her, and she held up a reproachful finger and his body just... stopped moving, despite all his instructions to the contrary.

"Let me explain how it's going to be," said Nahira. "Tomorrow you join Seofar's household. You will live in our lovely castle, eat our lovely food, and bed our lovely princess. And you will be mine. Seofar promised me that, as soon as the marriage offer came in."

Taliar didn't try to speak. He wasn't sure he could, and he had no idea what to say. There was no hope of pretending she didn't mean it exactly the way it sounded.

"I will hurt you in ways you've never dreamed of, and I will make you thank me prettily for it." She leaned closer, smiling her beautiful, frightening smile. "It won't always be awful, mind you. Your mother often came willingly to my bed; I'm sure you will too."

He hoped he was reading that implication wrong, but he knew he wasn't. He felt sick. She'd raped his mother and now she was going to do the same to him and he had no way out, nothing to offer her, no power to fight or run and no hope of anyone in this forsaken province being both able and willing to intervene.

"I think I'll write her letters," Nahira continued. "Beloved Aeleva, today I tied your son to my bed and made him scream for hours until his voice gave out and he could only weep silently into my pillow. His tears are almost as beautiful as yours." He wanted to look away from her eyes, but he couldn't. He didn't know if it was her magic or just the fascination of fear. "What do you think? Will she come running to save you?"

There didn't seem to be a good answer to that. Yes, she probably would. She'd probably try to come with an army, and Esarkan wouldn't send one, and she'd come anyway. And that seemed to be exactly what Nahira wanted.

"I can't wait to see her face. But first, I want you all to myself for a while. I want to break you, Kazaryne Taliar. I want to make you my plaything. I can see in your eyes you don't think I can do it, and I am going to enjoy teaching you differently. You come from a strong-willed family, but you'll beg for mercy before I'm done, proud little Kazaryne."

He couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't look away, and he genuinely didn't know whether she was still holding him with the power of her soul or whether he was just paralyzed by his own horror. The picture her words painted in his mind was so vivid, and her soul was right there telling him that she meant every word, that this was her greatest joy in life, making people helpless and afraid.

"Do you want to know what I'm going to do first?" she asked, and he didn't, he really didn't, he thought he might actually rather die, but of course when she read that answer in his face she just laughed. She had a beautiful laugh, and Taliar had never heard a sound that scared him more. "Seofar won't let me touch his daughter, so you'll have your wedding night undisturbed, if you're willing to use it. Kelora's such a shy little thing, though, I doubt you'll get anything from her you don't take by force."

Was she really offering to delay torturing him for a night if he raped the princess? He stared in incredulous horror.

"No? Suit yourself. No wedding night for you. Tell me, Taliar, have you ever been with a woman?" He said nothing. "A man, then?" He said nothing. "Have you thought about it, or are you entirely innocent?" He once again said nothing. She laughed musically. "Lucky me, having you all to myself. I'll take you to bed and show you every pleasure in the world. Before I ever hurt you, I'll claim you completely. And when there's nothing left of you that isn't mine, when there's no part of your body that doesn't remember my touch, then I will show you pain. I'll cut you and burn you and beat you and if I don't like how you scream the first time I'll heal you and do it over again until you get it right."

He could almost feel her hands on him as she spoke. It made him want to find a tower to throw himself off of.

—and now he's back at Maitimo's rooms. He steps inside and nudges the door shut and crouches to put down the flowerpot and as soon as it's out of his hands he's curled up on the floor, crying silently, shaking like a leaf, he can still hear her laughing, he will never not hear her laughing—

—he remembers the dream he had, of Maitimo killing Nahira and sweeping him up and carrying him off and putting her out of his mind by giving him something much more immediate to be afraid of—

My love, he says, knowing what he's asking, will you please rescue me?

Might, he says idly. Might not, you're so fascinating when you're falling apart -

- get up and come over here -

It hurts it hurts it hurts and oh he loves Maitimo so much.

He needs a moment first, a deep breath, a few seconds spent pressing his hands flat against the floor and watching his tears fall between them. And then he stands up and looks at Maitimo and walks over to him, moving easily, never faltering. Nahira's laughter echoes in his mind and his eyes are blurred with tears and his throat aches with stifled sobs and he refuses to let it get in his way, any of it. If he needed to, if he really needed to, he could say no. He doesn't need to. He chooses this, and chooses it again with every step.

"Love you forever," he whispers hoarsely.

He slaps him. You let me die because you couldn't keep your aura reasonably sized. I want it to fill this room and nothing else, right now. Do that.

That hurts a lot. It's - too far, almost, it tears him down right where he's most vulnerable - in a sense it feels wrong to resist breaking down under that, because it's true, it's true and it matters and he's so, so sorry -

He lets out his healing aura. It floods the room and he stops it sharply before it can go any farther.

And Maitimo pulls him closer and kisses him. Good job, he says. Good job. I expect so much of you because you're so capable, you know, most people couldn't do it and I wouldn't mind. But you can. 

Taliar nearly melts with relief. He kisses back. His emotions are an utter mess, fear and pain and horror and love and joy and grief and pride. But love is the center. Love is the ground under his feet.

Love you forever, he says.

(And in the back of his mind, as though to remind him that it's not going to be that easy, Nahira laughs.)

Right frame of mind for him to take hold of Taliar's soul, though.

Taliar is intensely terrified of him and intensely in love with him and everything hurts right now but he wouldn't have it any other way. He is so deeply grateful to Maitimo for giving him things like this, for putting him under enough pressure to show his true strength. He would have had a much worse time under that rockslide if he hadn't been able to draw on this kind of experience. He feels challenged and respected and validated and loved. The overwhelming intimacy of soul contact is perfect and welcome and right.

Good. He lets go after a few minutes. You've grown up so much, he says, you trust yourself so much more, if I'd asked this the first weeks I'd have hurt you terribly. Undress for me.

It takes him a few seconds to recover, but then he does as he's told, smiling. Yes, it's true, he's grown and changed and he's more capable now, surer of his strength, and it's a nice feeling, a warm solid certainty in his mind—

—he can still smell daffodils and Nahira is still laughing, but he only falters for a moment when he hears her, and then he finishes undressing and waits.

And he puts a hand on his throat and starts choking him again.

At first it feels good, a lovely shiver of just the right kind of fear, pushing Nahira out of his mind, and then he starts feeling his lungs straining for breath and—

Nahira's gone now. Nahira's gone and so is everything else, because he's back under the rockslide, in the dark, deprived of nearly all his senses. Can't breathe can't move can't see can't hear can't feel - nothing in his world but heat and pain.

He lets go. Oh, good, I was wondering how I could trigger that one when I wanted to. 

Taliar very quietly whimpers with fear.

And then he takes a breath, feels his lungs expand, clings to the sensation a little, exhales, lets it go—

Love you forever, he says, smiling up at Maitimo.

Love you. Love how much you trust me. Don't move.

Okay.

He can do that. It feels so good to be appreciated for his trust.