Confrontations 1

Confrontations - pt 1

There was a *warmth* beside him, glowing behind his eyes, deep in his mind… a healing, loving warmth…
      Radittsu forced his eyelids half-open, to gaze into weary golden eyes. He reached a hand to the pale face on the pillow beside his own, tensing, catching his breath and grimacing as the simple movement speared fire through his body. Zha'haabron hastily caught the hand and pulled it gently to his chest.
      **Zkai'da?**
      *… hurts… never felt anything like this…*
      The zn'hre bit his lip.
      **You were injured, zk'aida. Do you remember what happened?**
      The Saiyan frowned slightly.
      *Budoushu… Merica - was hit…* his eyes flashed open. *Is he all right?*
      Zha'haabron kissed the corner of his bondmate's mouth.
      **He is fine, zkai'da. You saved his life**
      *Good… Did the mission succeed? Did we blow the planet?*
      **Yes. Budoushu was destroyed**
      Radittsu sighed and relaxed.
      *And I kept my promise.*
      The zn'hre smiled, his eyes brimming.
      **Yes. You kept your promise. You came back to me**

Outside the silicate-walled sterile room, a frowning Vejiita watched the High King and his bondmate. As the big Saiyan's eyes closed again the king turned to Vinas.
      "How bad is it?"
      The biotech inclined his head.
      "Massive tissue and blood loss - fortunately the internal damage wasn't too bad. He's healing already: the G'gecks have a way of accelerating tissue growth, forcing the body to repair itself."
      Vejiita nodded absently.
      "It works for Saiya-jin?"
      "Yes, your Majesty. The G'gecks have been extremely helpful, giving us full access to their medical technology."
      "He looks - ill."
      "It will be some days before we can say for certain if he'll recover fully."
      Vejiita's head swung sharply to stare at the Feeodoreean, crossing his arms over his chest.
      "What do you mean?"
      "Well, he was severely injured, your Majesty. And while we're doing everything we can, we can't be entirely sure the excised muscle and nerves will ever completely regenerate. We have to be prepared for him to be physically disabled to some extent."
      The king drummed the fingers of one hand against his bicep.
      "In what way?"
      Vinas shrugged.
      "Limited movement in the damaged hip, a limp, loss of balance; there may also be some weakness in his arms - the muscle across his shoulders and down his back was very badly torn. His fighting ability would be impaired."
      Vejiita closed his eyes, fighting down a shudder. Radittsu, unable to fight? That superbly trained powerful warrior, a cripple? Would he want to live?
      Glancing through the silicate into the sterile room, watching Zha'haabron tenderly holding his bondmate, Vejiita thought the warrior probably would. He had something more precious, more important, to live for now.
      "Do whatever it takes…"

Merica was sprawled on his stomach on the bed in their - hot - suite, spending time with his bondmate before returning to the conflict. Ti'aasaan winced and laid a hand very gently on the warrior's shoulder: the broad, angry red ki-inflicted stripe that ran diagonally across his back from left hip to right shoulder looked… raw.
      "Does it still pain you?"
      "A little. Not much."
      The little zn'hre exchanged a glance with Jagung.
      **Is that true?**
      Jagung nodded, one hand fondly stroking his partner's mane.
      *All Saiyans are tough. He happens to be one of the toughest.*
      Ti'aasaan inclined his head, unconvinced.
      "Can I do anything to help?"
      Merica sighed and rolled onto his side.
      "Yeah. You can let me fuck you."
      The zn'hre blinked.
      "And that will help?"
      The warrior's eyes glinted dangerously.
      "It'll take my mind off the pain…"
      And reaffirm bonds, Ti'aasaan thought to himself. Merica was due to leave in a couple of days, to travel to Omani with the rest of the special squad. Not that they expected to be called into action, but Vejiita wanted them near at hand in case they were needed. Merica was to take command while Radittsu was indisposed, and the warrior was a little uneasy about it. On the one hand it was an honour, on the other he knew he wasn't really officer material. He was far too quick-tempered, for one thing. And the zn'hre was aware that he was forcing down a sense of loss; he hated being parted from his bondmate, although there was a certain consolation in knowing that Jagung would be with the family and hence as safe as any being could be... Ti'aasaan smiled and flipped over onto his back, thighs spread and hands teasing his own erection.
      "Then I will be very happy to oblige."
      And Merica knelt between his thighs and eased into him as Jagung lowered his face to the zn'hre's groin, taking the cool rigid flesh into his mouth as Ti'aasaan gasped and froze, eyes wide and startled, then groaned as the ex-teaser suckled hard, grazing the soft skin with his teeth as one hand slid down and under to fondle Merica's balls. As Ti'aasaan whimpered and came, filling Jagung's mouth with sparkling sweetness and his softening barbs rippling the length of Merica's shaft, the warrior gripped the slender hips and began to pound…

Hijau watched as Tane bathed his bondmate's hip with warming ki, gently *massaging* the joint from the inside, while Dari stroked Mahrayne's swollen belly, settling the boisterous child.
He frowned to himself. He'd visited the medical facility whilst Radittsu was unconscious, grimacing at the state his aijin was in even as he admired the alien medical technology that was working flat out, under the transparent apparatus covering his body, to heal him. The big male was going to be in pain, probably a lot of pain, when Vinas finally let him out of the infirmary. Would the twins' ki-healing abilities be able to help him? There was no harm in checking.
But first he'd need to speak with the Ssii'iin. He was due back on duty anyway: it was Zha'haabron's turn to rest. Grabbing one of the king's heavier fur bodysuits from the shelf, Hijau headed back to Headquarters.

The High King was at his console in the control room when Hijau arrived. Zha'haabron looked exhausted - but then, he'd had practically no sleep for the last eight days. When he wasn't overseeing his own troops he was back in the suite - or, most recently, at the medical lab. Hijau had had a couple of mattresses and sleeping furs brought into the room, and he and the king took it in turns to nap when they could. It wasn't enough for either of them, but for the moment it made it possible for them to function. And to add to Zha'haabron's discomfort, today the suns had risen on the first frost of the Cold Season… Hijau decided he'd talk to the king about his bondmate later, when the zn'hre was rested.
      "Any news, Ssii'iin?"
      Zha'haabron rubbed a hand across tired eyes.
      "The Omanir colony world of Gegepi has just surrendered. It was the last stronghold before the homeworld itself."
      Hijau blinked, then smirked.
      "We've won?"
      The zn'hre's shadowed eyes closed as he shook his head.
      "Not until we have Omani. And Home..."
      Hijau sighed silently and nodded. It was too early to celebrate. Omani was heavily defended: the Omanir had pulled back their troops to defend the homeworld. Overcoming their defences wouldn't be easy - which was why Vejiita (and Zha'haabron) wanted the special squad in the area. The Captain glanced at the zn'hre, frowning. He was shivering: Hijau remembered the bodysuit.
      "Ssii'iin? Why don't you get into this? And have you eaten yet?"
      Zha'haabron shook his head wearily, then dragged himself upright, hastily changing into the heavier suit as Hijau put in an order with the messhall. A very few minutes later a slight young female entered the control room, two large platters in her hands. Hijau inclined his head: the young warrior smirked, dark golden-brown eyes twinkling. She had dimples.
      "Hope this will be enough, sir, your Majesty. If not, let me know and I'll bring more."
      "Thank you, Guardsman…?"
      "Sasa, sir." She tossed her head slightly, flicking a heavy, pale-golden fringe out of her eyes.
      Hijau frowned. Sasa? He didn't recall any such warrior under his command…
      "I'm - kind of new, sir. I trained on Merpadi, only just got accepted to train with the Guard."
      "All applications are passed to me for approval."
      Sasa nodded hastily, apologetically.
      "And mine would have been too, sir, except that the Saiya-jin-no-Ou kind of intervened… Uh, I'm a member of the special squad, sir."
      Hijau nodded. He vaguely recognised the name, but had never actually met the female: Vejiita had really kept the existence of the squad very, very quiet. Once Budoushu had been destroyed, of course, there was no need, and it was pointless anyway, to keep the special squad and nitorine's properties a secret - in fact, as far as Vejiita was concerned, the more people who knew about the crystals the better. The Saiya-jin were already renowned warriors: once the news got out it was unlikely they'd face any opposition in the future.
      "My congratulations, Guardsman. You performed well on Budoushu."
      She smirked, then sobered.
      "Thank you, sir… How is Raditts'-sama?"
      Zha'haabron winced, and Sasa bit her lip.
      "I'm sorry, your Majesty, I didn't mean…"
      Hijau interrupted, turning her towards the door.
      "If it's not inconvenient, Sasa, we would like something hot to drink."
      "Certainly sir!"
      As she hastened gratefully out of the room, Hijau touched the zn'hre's shoulder.
      "Ssii'iin? You all right?"
      Zha'haabron sighed and absently took a large piece of barely-singed meat from the platter. The captain frowned.
      "Do you want to get some sleep? I can keep an eye on things if you want to rest - after you've eaten."
      The king considered the suggestion for a moment, then nodded.
      "Nothing is likely to happen for a while. The Council has decided to… lay siege, I believe Vejiita called it… to Omani initially, rather than simply attack the homeworld. We do not wish to risk any harm coming to the hash'shavven. Forcing the Soutanate into submission will be a less wasteful way of ending the conflict."
      Hijau stretched, rubbing at the back of his neck.
      "Then I would like you to go back to the suite, my Ssii'iin. Spend some time with the family, catch up on some sleep, get warm. You'll be able to function much more efficiently after a break."
      Zha'haabron nodded, accepting the truth of the comment.
      "And you will do the same?"
      "Yes. Later. Please tell Zha'haarak I'll see him tonight?"
      "Of course." Zha'haabron reached for another piece of meat, then glanced over his shoulder as Sasa returned with two large beakers of hot mulled fruit juice in her hands. Handing them over she dimpled at Hijau.
      "Anything else, sir?"
      He shook his head, then paused. It wasn't only Zha'haabron who would benefit from a break from duty.
      "Yes. Ask Kyuri to come in, please."

His second-in-command was debriefing a weary squad of Guard newly returned from Kusari, and Zha'haabron had almost dozed off by the time she arrived. Kyuri saluted them both, glancing concernedly at the king, then perched herself on the corner of the desk, arms crossed. Hijau smiled tiredly.
      "You've been updated on the state of the conflict?"
      She nodded.
      "When did you come on duty?"
      "Five hours ago, sir."
      He regarded her consideringly.
      "I would like to spend tonight with the family."
      She grinned.
      "Happy to take over, sir."
      "Thank you. Go get some sleep: I'll see you back here in seven hours." He glanced at Zha'haabron. "Is there anyone onworld right now who could take over for you for the night?"
      The king thought for a moment, then nodded.
      "Ghr'lindenen is sufficiently experienced."
      "Call him. Have him report here in seven hours time." He eyed Kyuri. "I assume you have no objection to working with a shr'en'an?"
      "Of course not, sir."
      "Good. You and he will relieve us."
      She smirked.
      "I'm very glad to hear it, sir, your Majesty. You both look like shit - if you'll excuse my familiarity, Sire."
      Zha'haabron raised an eyebrow but let the comment pass. He pulled himself wearily upright.
      "You will, nevertheless, contact me if anything requires my attention."
      "Of course, your Majesty."
      "Then I will take my leave. And thank you, Hi'ijaa."
      "Welcome, Ssii'iin…"

There was a bitterly cold mountain wind blowing as Zha'haabron left Headquarters: he shivered and pulled the bodysuit's hood over his head. Of course, it was the first cold season after FullMoon, and quite likely to be as harsh as the one prior to the season. Not a pleasant thought…
      He made his way to the medical facility as quickly as he could, to find Jeice watching over Radittsu. The hash'shavven smiled as the king sat carefully on the side of the bed.
      "How has he been?"
      "Resting quietly while I've been here, Ssii'iin."
      Vinas, who'd been checking monitors, glanced towards the zn'hre.
      "I'd estimate another nine days, your Majesty, before he can be discharged."
      Zha'haabron nodded absently. Vinas had explained in some detail what harm had been done and what they should expect: the king had decided to wait to let his bondmate know the results until he was stronger.
      Hopefully he'd never need to know. The big male was healing well…
      "Would you like some time alone?"
      Zha'haabron smiled at Jeice.
      "Thank you."
      "Shall I wait for you? Accompany you back?"
      The king blinked.
      "Would you not rather go straight back and warm up?"
      "I'm not cold, Ssii'iin."
      "In that case - yes." He glanced down at his bondmate's still, pale body. Only the vibrant strength of Radittsu's *being* - and the blinking lights of the monitors surrounding him - gave any indication that he was still alive. Vinas had decided that, to spare him as much pain as possible (since the actual tissue regeneration was proving intensely painful), he should be kept unconscious for most of the time. Zha'haabron didn't like it - but he liked the agony his beloved suffered when conscious far less.
      As Jeice left the quiet room the king gently stroked his bondmate's mane, *speaking* to him even though he was unable to answer.

An hour later, back at the suite and hustled into a pool filled with steaming hot water, Zha'haabron relaxed against Zha'haarak as the prince wrapped slender arms around his Ssii'iin, smiling at the children splashing quietly around them. They all missed Radittsu so much, and were being so brave about it. Mahrayne had joined them, helping to keep 'haavok and 'honee out of mischief, and Jeice was there, but Ti'aasaan was still down in the warriors' suite. He and Jagung would be rejoining the family tomorrow though: Merica was due to leave with the squad for Omani…
      Mahrayne looked unhappy. Kelapa hadn't returned, and the Hassinan was obviously missing her desperately. She hadn't let it interfere with her duties, though, which had quietly impressed Zha'haarak. He gently touched her shoulder.
      "Would you be willing to tell us all a story tonight?"
      She smiled and nodded, and he stroked her hair back from her face, careful not to wake the dozing Zha'haabron.
      "Zk'vissin, is there anything I can do to help?"
      "Thank you, sinam, but no."
      Buahan and 'tiisaan had cuddled into her side, the little dancer snuggling as close as he could get. She gazed down at him, and he smiled sheepishly.
      "I'm cold, 'rayne."
      "Oh dear…" She frowned at the prince. "We should perhaps get out and get them settled, yes?"
      Zha'haarak nodded, gently rousing the king, and minutes later, dried, snug in sleeping suits and warmly snuggled under the furs, the children gazed at Mahrayne, sleepily but expectantly, as she decided on a story…
      By the time Hijau came back the suite was quiet. Mahrayne had returned to her own room, accompanied by an almost somnambulistic 'tiisaan and carrying the sleeping Buahan, who had hold of a hank of Hassinan hair and would not let go. Jeice was cuddled into Zha'haabron tightly, holding the king and trying to ease his sleep: since Radittsu had been hurt he'd been troubled by nightmares, which weren't helping him get the rest he so badly needed. But Zha'haarak was awake, waiting for his beloved, and as Hijau stripped in the heat of the common room he rose and gestured to the bathing chamber.
      **The water is warm, zkai'da… and I have missed you**
      Hijau pulled him close, brushing kisses over the cool smooth face, then peeled the bodysuit from the slender body and hastily carried him through to the pool. Relaxing in hot water, moments later, the captain nuzzled his bondmate's neck.
      *I've missed you too, zkai'da.*
      The zn'hre sighed and swivelled to sit on Hijau's lap, pressing their erections together as the Saiyan groaned quietly - then lying back and pushing away, floating to the middle of the pool, one hand outstretched.
      **Come…**
      Entranced, Hijau swam to join his beloved, sliding into the cool body and sinking underwater with the zn'hre, gazing into loving golden eyes and watching strands of emerald hair flowing around the beautiful face, the slender frame…
      Zha'haarak wrapped long legs around his Saiyan's lean waist as Hijau settled, cross-legged, on the bottom of the pool and began to shift, grinning as his zn'hre's slim supple body writhed slowly against his own. As he came, Zha'haarak flung his head back, then collapsed forwards in slow motion against Hijau, his hair like cool flowing water against the captain's heated skin as the Saiyan plunged into him, cold emerald silk undulating and caressing his beloved with each thrust. It was intensely erotic, and Hijau came quickly, holding Zha'haarak tightly to him as they slowly rose to the surface…
      *Gods, beloved! Where… how…*
      Zha'haarak blushed.
      **I've always wondered what it would feel like…**
      Hijau kissed him.
      *Did you like it?*
      **Oh yes…**
      *Would you like to do it again?*
      **Oh, YES…**
      Grinning, Hijau pulled them both underwater again…

The war of attrition against the Omanir began, the Saiyan-R'ren'nkh'ian offworld forces and those of their allies blockading Omani, preventing vital supplies reaching the depleted planet and fighting off Omanir allies. The destroyer carrying the special squad and their scoutships hung between Omani and its planetary neighbour: the squad spent a considerable amount of time outside the ship, refining their skills by using various asteroids for target practice. It helped prevent boredom - all of them were chafing against the inactivity, especially Merica. Though so far he was managing to control his temper, somewhat to his surprise. Having Zha'haabron to talk to once a day - and spending a few minutes onscreen with his bondmate right afterwards - was helping considerably, the High King's serene, calming temperament infectious even over such a distance…

*You will not!*
      Zha'haabron lowered the feebly struggling body to the ground, sighed and cupped Radittsu's face in his hands.
      **Zk'vissin, you cannot make it under your own power - you are still far too weak. Please, let me carry you…**
      *No.* The big Saiyan scowled.
      **But…**
      *No buts, Ssii'iin. I will not be carried.* He smirked wryly. *To quote yourself, it erodes my authority.*
      The king sighed irritably.
      **That was an entirely different situation. Everyone knows you were hurt…**
      *And now need to know I'm recovered.*
      **You aren't…**
      *Fine - recovering then. Don't argue.* He took a deep breath, wincing as the thin, newly-formed skin over his back twinged. So annoying; it's the little things that give you the most grief…
      Zha'haabron crossed his arms, a determined expression on his face.
      **Very well - you refuse to be carried. But you can't fly, and walking still hurts. How do you plan to get back to the palace?**
      Radittsu inclined his head, smiling at his bondmate.
      *I will walk - if you will assist me… *
      Zha'haabron glanced towards the window: seven days to Deep Winter and the snow was already thick on the ground, heavy flakes falling from a dense grey sky. It would be a long, cold, difficult walk. But Rhoi'i'dat'hzziu was stubborn. The king sighed.
      **Very well. On condition you wear something warm**
      The Saiyan scowled - but nodded. Zha'haabron helped him into a heavy full bodysuit before he could change his mind…

Everyone was waiting when they arrived, Radittsu moving slowly and carefully, limping heavily and leaning very nearly his full weight on his bondmate. Jeice hastened to his other side and placed the Saiyan's hand on his shoulder: the hash'shavven could feel how much effort the journey had taken, how much it had cost him. Between them, he and Zha'haabron helped the big male lower himself to the sleeping platform, surrounding him with supporting pillows as Zh'leet silently handed him an enormous beaker of glop.
      Radittsu gazed at the children silently watching, and grinned.
      "Heh. Don't I even get a hello?"
      'haabron was the first to reach him, tears streaming down his face as he tried to snuggle against the Saiyan while not hurting him.
      "Dadda... We missed you so much…"
      Nuzzling the hostling's hair, Radittsu whispered,
      "I missed you too, zk'vissin…" *All of you…*
      Kobis knelt behind his aijin, one hand laid tentatively on the Saiyan's arm.
      "Rad-san - are you all right? You look…"
      "Terrible!" sniffled 'raadiin, his lips trembling, close to tears as 'fallon nestled against him.
      "You're too thin." That was Zh'leet. "Far too thin. But we can do something about that…"
      Leteetza knelt at his side, expression worried, 'jiita and 'dittsu cradled against her. She stroked his arm gently with her tail.
      *You do, you know. Look terrible, I mean. Are you really going to be all right?*
      Vinas hadn't been able to give them a definitive answer. The G'geckan procedures had done as much as they could: the rest was simply a matter of time. And Radittsu not trying to do too much too soon. Looking around him, at the family nestled close, staring at him anxiously, he made up his mind then and there that of course he would be. He smirked.
      "I'll be back to normal before you know it."
      Jeice fought back a smile as the mood in the suite changed from fear and worry to relief and jubilation. The hash'shavven grinned.
      "What did the redoubtable Vinas-sama have to say about bathing?"
      He'd said it would be fine - would probably help - but… Radittsu frowned. The scars were inflamed and ugly, and could frighten the brats… Ti'ani took his hand.
      "Dadda, you could never frighten us. We know it's not going to look pretty. We don't care. It's you we love, not what you look like."
      Ti'aasaan hugged his sireling from behind, so proud of the child. Radittsu raised an eyebrow, sweeping the assembly with his eyes.
      "You all feel that way?"
      There was an indignant babble of voices, and the Saiyan chuckled.
      "In that case… I would love to bathe." He glanced guiltily at Zha'haabron: the king was still shivering from the coldness of the walk. *And I'm sorry, zk'aida. I really wasn't thinking. Next time I'll listen to you…*
      Zha'haabron stroked his face with a cold hand, smiling fondly.
      **Do not let it trouble you, zk'vissin. Let us bathe - I will soon warm up…**

At the time, no one could work out why Nappa ordered the attack. As far as anyone knew, the blockade was holding, the starving Omanir were close to surrendering, the Alliance could have taken the planet bloodlessly. Instead, at Deep Winter, he led a force of strikeships down to Omani and laid waste to wide swathes of the barren world, beating what was left of the population into submission. The Soutanate formally surrendered, and not just Omani: the Soutan gave Ghrakigh over to the Alliance as well.
      It was later discovered that the Omani Soutan had been under threat of a military takeover by the new Soutan of Ghrakigh, whom he hated bitterly, and had struck a deal with Nappa: the Alliance could have Omani, and Ghrakigh, on three conditions. Firstly, that the Soutan be allowed to remain onworld as an overseer for the Empire. Secondly, that the Empire assist them in restoring Omani to some semblance of health, so that they could once again support themselves. And thirdly, that the Soutan of Ghrakigh be returned home in chains, to be executed according to the ancient penalty for treason, slow flaying then exposure to the elements. But the Soutan couldn't just hand over the planet - Nappa would have to attack, make it look like the Soutanate had no choice but to submit.
      Nappa had agreed. Not least because some of the more blood-thirsty of his troops were itching for action…
      The Saiyan historians given the task of detailing the Omanir Conflict had been bewildered by the intricate manoeuvrings of the two rulers, although they had a sneaking admiration for the Omani Soutan's actions. Surrendering his own realm in order to bring down a rival? Especially when that rival was his own son. Now that was cold-blooded!
      It effectively ended the war, at least as far as Omani was concerned. But, the Soutan warned, his son wouldn't yield so easily.
      Were there any subos on Ghrakigh, Nappa had wanted to know.
      Startled, the Soutan had frowned and shaken his head. It was not their custom to let slaves return to their homeworlds - it might give them ideas about escape…
      Nappa had smirked - and ordered the Soutan to assemble all the Omanir's slaves in the capital in four days time…

"Must you go?"
      Radittsu nodded.
      "Yes."
      "But you're not fully recovered yet…"
      "I'm strong enough for this. Who else would you trust to guard him?"
      Deep Winter was a day past, and the weather was ferocious, howling blizzards and the temperature remained well below freezing. The family were staying in the suite as much as possible - except for Zha'haabron and Hijau, who were required at Guard Headquarters. Even though the playroom (now more of an obstacle course than somewhere to play: Hijau, Radittsu and Zha'haabron between them had come up with a variety of training devices that could be used by all the brats) and classroom were well-heated, the cold seemed to seep insidiously into R'ren'nkh'ian bodies, leaving all of them chilled. But this made them all happy; it meant they could spend more time with their dadda…
      Then Vejiita had requested Jeice's attendance on the first diplomatic mission to Omanir. It wasn't the sort of request that could be refused, and in any case Jeice had already agreed to be his people's ambassador. Radittsu insisted on going with him.
      The children were in tears.
      "But… but there's still so much I haven't learned!" wailed 'tiisaan, hugging the hash'shavven tightly. Jeice cradled him closely, aware - despite the selfishness of his words - that the little dancer treasured him for much more than his dancing skills.
      "Little one, I promise I will visit. And perhaps, later, you can come and visit my home too."
      'tiisaan nodded miserably, brushing at his tears with the back of one hand as Ti'ani and Le'leen wrapped arms and tails around the hash'shavven's waist.
      *We're going to miss you.*
      Jeice sighed. He'd come to hate farewells…
      *I will miss you too.* He tried to smile at the circle of woebegone, tearful faces. "Come now. I won't be leaving for four days: let's take advantage of the time, ne?"
      In fact, Mahrayne cancelled the lessons for the four days: it almost went without saying that the children wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway. Jeice spent a lot of the time dancing, often with 'tiisaan, very aware that Jagung was watching him closely. He'd been tempted to invite the warrior to join him - but something in Jagung's feelings gave him pause. He had some idea of the warrior's history, of course, but was a little puzzled by the guilt that Jagung seemed to be feeling for his past.
      The children spent a lot of time cuddled up to Radittsu, who, although still much thinner than they were used to, was fast recovering - speeded along with Tane's assistance. He'd even managed to tease her gently: he stayed mostly naked, as even soft material pressing against the massive scars was irritating, and Tane's mix of embarrassment and lust as her small hands rested on his hip, pouring ki into the damaged joint, was amusing. Best of all, he and Zha'haabron were making love again, which was a relief for them both: Hijau abstained for now, wanting to wait until his aijin was fully himself, a little worried that he'd hurt the big male. Radittsu had even accompanied Leteetza to a couple of short, easy sparring sessions, where both had been dismayed to find that Vinas had been right about the long-term effects of the wounds. In the air, and when using ki, Radittsu was as effective as ever (or rather, he would be once he was back up to strength), but on the ground…
      He'd slumped down, head in his hands. Leteetza had knelt beside him, her arms as far around his shoulders as she could reach.
      *I'm sorry.*
      *It's not your fault.*
      *I'm still sorry.*
      He sighed and kissed her.
      *It's just a temporary thing, I'm sure. Once I'm back in action everything will get back to normal.*
      The female hugged him tightly.
      *Gods, I hope so!*
      He rubbed his face tiredly.
      *It has to, little warrior. I'm no use like this.*
      *Fucking stupid thing to say. I don't agree, and neither will Zha'haabron, nor the rest of the family.*
      He stared for a moment, then smirked.
      *Heh. You're right. There's more to life than fighting.*
      She grinned.
      *Yeah. And in the meantime, try walking everywhere. That helps Zha'haarak with his hip.* She chuckled. *And when you get back from Omani, arrange some sparring sessions with your brother! That worked last time!*
      He laughed and pulled himself unsteadily upright, most of his weight on his left leg to ease the stabbing ache in his right hip and thigh, and limped slowly back to the palace with Leteetza at his side.

Blizzard notwithstanding, the whole family, Vejiita, Zorun and the entire Council turned out to wave farewell to the delegation. Their farewells said the night before, and not wanting the zn'hre to suffer the cold any longer than necessary, Radittsu and Jeice didn't linger, and the shuttle took off with the minimum of ceremony. As everyone made moves to disperse, Vejiita beckoned to Leteetza.
      "I wish to speak with you this evening, regarding Vejiita Shinnou. Bring him with you."
      She bowed her head.
      "Very well, Sire. Should I bring the older brats too?"
      The Saiya-jin-no-Ou smiled, the regal harshness of his face softening for a moment.
      "Yes. Plan to eat in the royal wing, and possibly stay the night."
      "Right." She hesitated for a moment. "And 'dittsu?"
      Vejiita's smile faded.
      "Bring him if you must…"

Although in fact it hadn't proved necessary…
      "Leteetza?"
      She raised her head from trying to force a squirming, sulking 'jiita into a warm bodysuit in preparation for an evening with his father and smiled at Zha'haabron.
      "Ssii'iin?"
       He inclined his head, his expression strangely diffident.
      "May I… care for 'dittsu tonight?"
      She blinked - then sighed silently. His scent… He was feeling lonely, almost lost. Missing his bondmate already. She looked down at the miniature Radittsu gazing between her and the king with big, hopeful eyes. 'dittsu loved his papa's mate…
      She laughed and lifted the brat into a hug, his tail already stretched out towards the zn'hre.
      "Of course you may, Ssii'iin! As often as you like." she added dryly as the little horror giggled at her.
      'dittsu snuggled into Zha'haabron's arms with a contented sigh - and immediately fell asleep. Leteetza stared, then shook her head in mock despair.
      "I wish he was as good for me…"

In the early hours of the morning Ti'aasaan was woken by the sound of quiet crying. Wriggling out of Jagung's arms he sat upright and *felt* for the source of the unhappiness.
      'zhasaan. The hostling must have had another nightmare…
      Moving as carefully as he could so as not to wake anyone else, he pulled the little dreamer to him, nuzzling his hair.
      **What's wrong, zk'vissin?**
      The hostling was trembling, gulping back sobs, trying to be quiet: he grabbed his host with surprising strength, cuddling as hard as he could, almost incoherent with anxiety.
      **Was a bad dream, maazi… Jeice was hurting… he got upset… and… and… there was so much blood!**
      Ti'aasaan stroked his hair, rocking back and forth soothingly.
      **It's all right, little one. Dadda's with him, and the Guard, and Manzano: they won't let any harm come to him**
      **Promise?**
      **I promise**
      Privately he determined to make sure Radittsu got word. It may be nothing - but then again, 'zhasaan's dreams had been prophetic before…