Chapter Text
Is there such a thing as returning from beyond the point of no return?
Is there such a thing as changing stripes that are already long-carved into one's hide?
Can choices be revised, as if consequences can be returned and exchanged for a different story, if only one pleads with enough insistence?
The maturing King does not know the answers to these questions. What he does know, with a certainty that, like spreading briars, claims more of him with every passing year, is that he is lost, adrift, on the wrong path and every step feels hollow.
He knows how he ended up here. He can recall the long, arduous road, and the fire that spurred him on. He can, regrettably, look back, and feel something in him twist and revolt at the sight of what he has left behind so very, very far away.
He wants it, with a desire that is nothing like the single-minded frustration towards what he had once believed was his path. He wants it, he tells himself, reluctant to acknowledge this burning ache as a need. He endures the deficiency, and he is more than capable of continuing to endure, he tells himself -
but what for? why?
What is the meaning behind his insistence to let the current take him further out to sea? What is the prize at the end of this collapsing tunnel?
The King remembers how he got here, but he no longer knows where he is going. Like a prairie mule on a hill, he wishes to descend to safe ground below, but finds himself imprisoned when turning to move towards salvation.
Feeling the urge to bleat like a wayward lone karakul whenever he wakes to his circumstances is humiliating.
His Queen mustn't know what grows in him, how every day he fails himself, and she will not find out without the map to read his hidden currents. She will remain ignorant of what does not immediately threaten her goals, and in this, there is a chance.
He will bide his time, until he can hold no more, and the shackle on him will break. It will break.
Zoraal Ja has long since proven to himself that he is not unbreakable. Like a worn anvil under his own hammer, like all those years ago, one day he will break again. The only entity more powerful than him is himself, he understands now.
He will break.
Break free, or shatter?
He refuses to place his bets, terrified of either outcome.
And so, he endures, striking the anvil day after day. Hoping, dreading.
----
The Dawnservant had always had a knack for emotional discipline, for self-control. Facing every day of the past three years of his existence with only one face to do so with, the other half of himself silent yet ever-present, had been an immense weight almost literally on his shoulders, and yet…
Well, somehow he'd convinced every suspicious soul to join his charade, and successfully pulled the alpaca wool over everyone else's eyes. There was a sort of poetry to how his habit of keeping Reason behind a veil so easily inspired others to do the same -
Nah. His people, his family, they’d had reasons other than folly for playing along. They had made it to this point together, eyes on the future they wanted rather than tripping over a present-day inconvenience. One knowing bull in the china shop could have pried and prodded and caused a stir, but there was a kindness in them, a sort of wisdom that remained even though his brother could no longer give a voice to them.
Gulool Ja Ja gave his conscious head a mellow shake, swaying himself back to the world around him. He'd afforded himself a brief moment of private reprieve after the grand ceremony from earlier that day, and now it was time to turn his attention back to one particular item on his laundry list of matters to figure out.
It was an obvious priority, after seeing to the ascension of the Second and Third Promise.
Where
the heck
was his eldest son?
The question had broiled up more than once in the past several days, and the news that had found its way to him had not inspired any confidence about the situation.
His listening ears across Tural would be ready to relay any urgent updates, bar those that had come to witness the ceremony in person today. Perhaps the lack of news was ‘good’ news…?
He let out a heavy, growling sigh at the idea.
It sure would be convenient to think so.
His instinct told him otherwise, though he couldn't put a talon on why. Whenever it came to Zoraal Ja, he felt as if they'd been missing a third head, one that could fill in the blanks in their understanding of the world.
Gulool Ja Ja, mighty and wise Dawnservant, had a keen sense for people, but even decades of observation hadn't let him absorb whatever it was he lacked when it came to his own personal familial bonds.
He'd been lucky to make it to adulthood through a mixture of blithe courage, two noses for opportunities, and a great number of people that had pulled him forward and endowed him with gifts of support and experiences.
What he had not experienced was the kind of domestic life he'd hoped to grant the people whose faith he ruled by.
Zoraal Ja was a… a…
No, not a problem, never. Not a burden, no.
A mystery. A tightrope challenge. A constant reminder to remain humble about his competence, because in no other area in his existence did he feel this keenly that he was making it all up as he went. He barely had a sense for whether the outcome of his decisions was good or bad.
Well, it certainly didn't fall under ‘good’, judging by the tidings of his high-strung boy finding his limits, and not in a graceful way.
The confusion and concern had stung, but he'd bottled it and set it neatly in the queue, to worry about when there was sufficient space to do so with the consideration it deserved.
Well, there was space now, and it was easy enough to do plenty of worrying in record time. His eyes narrowed with the wave of malcontent that accompanied the umptenth time he found himself requesting his brother's calming input, only to find he had been talking to an empty room, again.
He understood that part of existence very well by now; the reality that loss never fully fades, it only becomes easier to live with over time. He'd learned to stumble and move on with minimal flustering, but today it felt especially frustrating.
He'd have to figure this one out by himself, without a roadmap of his other half's well-conceived plans to guide him. It just took the first step, to leave behind the fretting and shift gears into problem-solving.
At the end of the day, what kind of common sense was it that usually got him through the iffiest of pickles?
Oh, right.
First, you determine what you are looking to resolve, and which actions bring you closer to achieving this. Then, you make a decision and carry it out.
Simple enough, no need to overthink.
So…
What the head of Resolve wanted to resolve was how little he knew about the current status of his eldest, and the inability to take active steps to untangle whatever mess this had undoubtedly turned into.
What the head of Resolve resolved to do, was to carve a path forward in the practical humdrum of tomorrow, and make his exit to go track him down in person. Cutting out the middle men along the way would allow him to gather information nice and hot straight out of the fire.
He could stay abreast of the developments in the city through his informants, with the reasonable gamble that whatever fusses arose, it would take only his word and not his presence to tide them over until he returned. If he was needed, well…
Old man or no, he could move across the content very quickly if the situation demanded it.
Was this the ideal time to skip town?
Oh, definitely not. He made himself no illusions on that.
But since when had he ever demanded perfection, in performance or circumstances? Reality was messy; his son was missing with not a sign of his presence during the swearing-in of his two younger siblings. If he had any faith in dear Lamaty'i and Koana, he would leave the headache of handling their impetuous father's sudden departure in their hands without looking back.
He would take on the task of learning to let go, as any parent should, at the same time as holding himself accountable for addressing the matter of his eldest without delay.
Two birds with one stone? How efficient, hah.
A good plan. He rode the wave of satisfaction to get his heavy frame moving, with no intentions of halting until the night called for it.
---
Koana couldn't believe what he was hearing, mere hours after Lamaty'i's surprising-but-unsurprising invitation for him to join at her side as Vow of Reason of Tulliyolal.
The disbelief didn't consume him for long. This was perfectly in-character for Father, and after only a moment of stunned silence, he bade the messenger to send Gulool Ja Ja his best wishes.
And a communicator, if she would be so kind, do-not-let-him-depart-without-it-thank-you.
His first night as the co-ruler of the nation would be a short one, he suspected.
---
The broken First Promise struck the anvil once more.
He was nearly ready, but not yet. Not yet. He would defeat himself soon, perhaps tomorrow.
Zoraal Ja felt like he could just about gut himself, as if doing so would uproot these blights from his person.
How unbecoming, how revolting, to pretend himself the King of Resolve when the only thing he was beating his famil- his competitors at right now was procrastination.
Finding his talons close to piercing scale, and not in a satisfying way, he secretly pleaded to whatever higher power had been amusing itself with his fate. He was tired of this, of being himself, unchanging, stubborn, immovable.
Please, let me break.