We had finally set out for Arpa the following morning, resuming the journey that had been interrupted by so much tragedy and violence. The morning had been unusually pleasant—the kind of perfect travel weather that seemed almost designed to lift spirits and encourage optimism. The temperature was cool but not cold, comfortable without requiring heavy layers, and the sky stretched overhead in a flawless expanse of blue unmarred by clouds.
From the opened carriage window, cool air flowed steadily inside, creating a gentle cross-breeze that was refreshing without being uncomfortable. My hair—the strands that had escaped from the new and elaborate style of braiding that Rora had performed earlier that morning—swayed gently in the moving air, dancing and floating in patterns that I found oddly mesmerizing when I caught glimpses of them in my peripheral vision.
Rora was proving herself to be remarkably skilled in the art of braiding hair. She seemed to possess an entire repertoire of different styles and techniques that she had been systematically experimenting with on my hair over the past several days since entering my service. Each morning brought some new variation—sometimes simple and elegant, other times complex and ornate, but always executed with impressive technical proficiency.
After experiencing this daily ritual several times now, I had grown quite accustomed to it. The initial discomfort I had felt at having my hair pulled and arranged in unfamiliar ways had completely faded. Now the tightness of the braids felt just right—secure enough to hold throughout the day but not so tight as to cause headaches or discomfort. And I had even started braiding my hair myself at night before sleeping, adopting the southern practice that Rora had explained would help promote healthy growth and prevent tangling.
To my surprise, I had discovered that braided hair was actually considerably less messy than simply letting it flow loose as I had always done in the North. The braiding kept everything contained and organized, prevented the annoying tangles and knots that used to plague me after a night of sleep or a day of activity. And the finished styles were genuinely beautiful and elegant in ways I hadn't fully appreciated before experiencing them firsthand.
So I had given Rora essentially free rein to do whatever she liked with my hair, to experiment and try different approaches. And she seemed genuinely happy about having this creative freedom, approaching each morning's styling session with visible enthusiasm and pride in her work.
But that realization led to a question that had been nagging at me increasingly over recent days: was I gradually shedding my northern identity, abandoning the cultural markers that had defined me for my entire life up until now? I wasn't wearing fur coats anymore—they remained packed away in trunks, unused and probably destined to stay that way given the southern climate. And now my hair was being arranged in elaborate southern styles rather than the simple, practical northern approaches I had grown up with.
Was I losing myself? Transforming into someone different, someone who would eventually bear no resemblance to the person I had been when I left Draga?
No, I decided after a moment of reflection. I was probably just overthinking this, reading too much significance into practical adaptations to new circumstances. Wearing appropriate clothing for the climate and allowing my maid to style my hair in ways she found beautiful didn't mean I was betraying my heritage or abandoning my identity. It just meant I was being sensible and open to new experiences.
Arvid had been sitting beside me throughout this internal contemplation, but his attention was completely focused elsewhere. His eyes were fixed on the large map spread across his lap, studying it with intense concentration. I could see the title printed across the top: *The Great Sand Desert*. He sighed several times as he examined the terrain features and markings, his expression growing progressively more troubled with each exhalation.
"What's wrong?" I finally asked, leaning closer to him so I could see what had captured his attention so completely. "You're looking at that map like it personally offended you."
He finally broke away from what had seemed like an eternal staring contest with the parchment and turned to look at me instead.
"We're going to eradicate the Dergu stronghold in the Great Sand Desert on our way to Arpa," he announced without preamble, his tone matter-of-fact, as though he were discussing routine travel plans rather than a major military operation.
The statement didn't surprise me at all. In fact, I had been thinking about this exact possibility for quite a while now, ever since I had understood that our route to Arpa would take us directly through or adjacent to Dergu-controlled territory. The opportunity was simply too obvious to ignore. It would be far more efficient and strategically sound to deal with this threat now, while we already had a substantial military force assembled and were literally passing through the relevant area, rather than making the journey to Arpa first and then organizing a separate expedition to come back and hunt the Dergu later.
We already had twenty thousand soldiers traveling with us—more than enough to mount a serious assault on whatever fortifications the Dergu had established. The logistics made perfect sense.
"You don't seem surprised by this plan," Arvid observed, studying my face with curiosity. "I was expecting at least some reaction—concern, perhaps, or questions about the risks involved."
"Well," I started, allowing myself to lean fully against him, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his presence. "I kind of saw that coming. It's the logical choice, really. Why waste time and resources on a separate campaign when we can accomplish the objective during our current journey? Seems obvious."
He shifted slightly to accommodate my weight, then leaned back against me as well, creating a comfortable mutual embrace. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of my head, his lips warm against my hair.
"Yeah, you're absolutely right," he agreed quietly. "It is the logical choice. Though I'll admit I'm grateful you're not objecting or expressing concerns about the danger. Some of my advisors have been decidedly less enthusiastic about the plan."
We remained in that comfortable embrace for another long moment, simply enjoying each other's presence and the peaceful rhythm of the carriage's movement. But then I remembered something—a question that had been nagging at me since my conversation with Rahu and my observation of his relationship with Gautham. Something I needed to understand about the society I was joining, the cultural context I would be navigating.
I sat up, perhaps slightly more abruptly than I had intended. The sudden movement startled Arvid, who looked at me with obvious confusion, clearly wondering what had prompted such an urgent shift.
"How does the Selon Empire view same-gender couples?" I asked directly. "What are the social attitudes, and are there any legal restrictions?"
Arvid's eyebrows rose slightly at the unexpected question, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding.
"I'm not entirely certain of all the nuances," he admitted honestly. "It's not something I've studied extensively or had much cause to think about in detail. But from what I do understand, there are no explicit laws prohibiting same-gender marriages or relationships. Nothing on the books that makes it technically illegal."
He paused, his expression becoming more troubled.
"However, that doesn't mean society actually accepts such relationships," he continued. "In practice, there's considerable social stigma attached to them. There have been numerous documented cases of families completely disowning their children when they discovered their same-gender attractions or relationships. Cutting them off financially, declaring them dead to the family, refusing any future contact."
His voice took on a harder edge.
"And some of the extremely traditional families—particularly those in the central regions who pride themselves on maintaining ancient customs—have been known to commit what they call 'honor killings.' Murdering their own children or relatives for bringing supposed shame on the family name through same-gender relationships."
He looked disgusted by this revelation.
"My father officially banned such honor killings years ago, made them prosecutable as murder with severe penalties," Arvid added. "But enforcement is difficult, especially in remote areas or when powerful families are involved. The practice hasn't been completely eliminated, just driven more underground."
He seemed to be thinking through the complexities as he spoke.
"The situation is considerably more relaxed in the coastal shore regions," he noted. "Since most of the population there has mixed heritage—significant amounts of Western blood blended with traditional Southern lineages—they tend to be much less concerned about such matters. Same-gender couples in those areas generally don't face the same level of discrimination or danger. They can live relatively openly without fear of violence or complete social ostracism."
He turned to look at me with obvious curiosity.
"But why are you asking about this particular topic?" he asked. "Do you know someone whose situation this concerns?"
"Just curious," I replied with what I hoped was a casual, playful smile that suggested I was asking purely for academic interest rather than specific practical reasons.
In truth, I was thinking about Gautham and Rahu. Gautham came from Turga, which I knew was a southern shore region within the Selon Empire's territory. Which meant they probably wouldn't face outright discrimination or physical danger if their relationship became known. But clearly they still felt the need to keep it secret, to hide their affection and only show it when they thought no one was watching. That suggested the stigma existed even in the more tolerant regions, if not as violently.
"What is the attitude toward same-gender couples in Draga?" Arvid asked, his eyes shining with genuine curiosity about my homeland's customs and beliefs.
"Hmm," I began, organizing my thoughts. "Well, we worship Armie, the goddess of eternal love, and our religious teachings emphasize that love comes in many different shapes and forms. The core belief is that we fundamentally cannot control who we love—that love chooses us rather than us choosing it. Love is considered to reign supreme over all other considerations, transcending social conventions or practical concerns."
I paused, considering how to explain the cultural context.
"So there has never been any real discrimination against same-gender couples in Draga," I continued. "There weren't particularly many such couples, admittedly, but that was primarily because our overall population is quite small rather than because of any social pressure against them. The ones who did exist were accepted without controversy."
"And I think the folklore from the Dragon Age played a significant role in establishing that acceptance," I added thoughtfully.
"Dragon lore?" Arvid asked, leaning forward with obvious interest. "How would that relate to acceptance of same-gender couples?"
"You see," I explained, warming to the subject, "according to all the traditional stories and histories, a dragon's sole purpose in life—their entire reason for existence—is to find their destined mate and produce hatchlings to continue the draconic lineage. But not every dragon is fortunate enough to find their mate. In fact, most aren't. The odds are incredibly poor."
I could see I had Arvid's complete attention now.
"And most of the time, when a dragon does manage to find their mate, that person turns out to be from a completely different species," I continued. "Usually humans, since humans are numerous and spread widely across the world. Sometimes elves, though that became less common as the elven populations declined. There's only one single instance recorded in all the lore where a dragon's mate was another dragon."
"Really?" Arvid interrupted, clearly fascinated. "What happened in that case?"
"According to the stories, those two dragons—both incredibly powerful even by draconic standards—mated and together gave birth to what the lore describes as an abomination of a dragon," I said. "Something unprecedented, something that shouldn't have been possible. That offspring was Rulha—the first and only dragon to ever achieve true godhood, to transcend mortal existence and become a deity. So perhaps 'abomination' wasn't quite accurate, given what he became."
I shook my head, getting back to the main point.
"Anyway, the central issue is that finding your mate as a dragon is extraordinarily difficult—like searching for one specific needle in a continent-sized haystack. Very few dragons were ever lucky enough to succeed. And even when they did find their destined mate, there were often... complications."
"What kind of complications?" Arvid asked.
"Well, dragons apparently cannot mate with anyone other than their true, destined partner," I explained. "It's not a choice or a preference—it's a fundamental aspect of their biology or magic or whatever governs such things. They're physically or magically incapable of forming that kind of intimate bond with anyone except the one person the universe has designated as theirs. Which means if they never find that person, they remain alone for their entire very long lives."
"That sounds both romantic and incredibly tragic," Arvid observed.
"It is both," I agreed. "And sometimes, when a dragon finally did locate their mate after centuries of searching, that mate turned out to be the same gender as the dragon. Which obviously meant they couldn't produce hatchlings together—the biological incompatibility made that impossible."
I smiled slightly, remembering the stories.
"But the dragons didn't care about that at all," I said warmly. "Sure, they couldn't fulfill what was supposed to be their primary purpose, couldn't continue their bloodline or produce the next generation. But they were simply happy to have found their mate at all. After so many years of loneliness, of searching and hoping, actually finding that one person who completed them was precious beyond any other consideration."
"So they lived with their mates despite the lack of offspring?" Arvid asked.
"Exactly," I confirmed. "They lived together, loved each other with absolute devotion, built lives together. There are several documented dragon couples like that in the folklore—same-gender pairings who were renowned for their devotion to each other, who became legends in their own right."
I took a breath before continuing.
"So you see, stories about same-gender dragon couples were quite common in Draga's cultural traditions," I explained. "People heard about such relationships from the time they were young children, absorbed them as part of the normal landscape of possibilities. It wasn't treated as shocking or strange or shameful—it was just another way that love could manifest, another variation of the eternal search for one's destined partner. So when actual same-gender couples existed in Draga society, it didn't come as any kind of surprise or generate controversy. It was simply accepted as natural."
"I see," Arvid said thoughtfully. "That's genuinely fascinating. A completely different perspective from what dominates southern culture. And the dragon lore itself is intriguing—I had no idea about most of that."
He paused, then added with a slight smile: "The concept of mating for life is particularly interesting. Dragons bonding permanently with one specific individual, unable to form intimate connections with anyone else..."
Then his expression shifted, becoming more serious and intent.
"Is that the same for you?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching my face. "Does that same limitation apply? Are you bound to one specific mate for life?"
I felt heat rushing immediately to my cheeks, a blush spreading across my face with embarrassing speed. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I had accidentally exposed myself, revealed more than I had intended. This was decidedly not good. Now he was going to figure out that he was... that he was... my mate. The one person the universe or fate or whatever governed such things had designated as mine.
My mind raced frantically, trying to formulate an answer. I opened my mouth, then closed it again without speaking. Opened it once more, still unable to produce words. I remembered with growing panic that I couldn't simply lie to him—he had that ability to detect falsehoods, would know immediately if I tried to deceive him about this.
But what could I possibly say that was both truthful and didn't completely expose the depth of the bond I felt toward him? How could I explain without making myself utterly vulnerable, without revealing that losing him would literally destroy me in ways that went far beyond normal grief?
Just as I was spiraling into full panic about how to respond, General Rohan's voice called out from outside the carriage, unknowingly coming to my rescue.
"Your Majesty!" he announced clearly. "We have arrived at the last town before the Great Sand Desert. This will be our final opportunity to resupply before entering the desert proper."
Arvid's attention immediately shifted away from me and toward the window, his focus redirecting to practical matters of logistics and military planning. I took a deep, relieving breath, silently thanking whatever powers had prompted Rohan's perfectly timed interruption.
I looked out the window myself, grateful for the distraction and the change of subject. We had crossed out of Kima Kingdom's borders quite some time ago—hours, at least. Since then, all the territory we had been traveling through belonged entirely to the Selon Empire's central lands. The landscape had been gradually changing, becoming more arid, with vegetation growing sparser and the soil taking on a more sandy quality.
The town we were now approaching had a wooden board positioned at its entrance, announcing its name in clear Arthian script. *Gesri*, it read. The settlement looked modest but functional, the kind of frontier town that existed primarily to service travelers and traders heading into or emerging from the challenging desert terrain ahead.
This would be our last taste of civilization before entering the Great Sand Desert. Our last chance to prepare, to ensure we had adequate supplies, to steel ourselves for whatever challenges awaited in that harsh environment.
And perhaps, I thought with a mixture of relief and regret, my last chance to avoid answering Arvid's question about mates and permanent bonds.
At least for now.